A Tragedy in Four Acts
Act I: Jina Means Life
On September 16, 2022, the 22-year-old Mahsa "Jina", died in police custody. Her death was caused by a direct blow to the head. Mahsa had been arrested by the Morality Police while visiting Tehran with her family for not wearing the "proper" hijab. She was transferred to the notorious Headquarters of the Morality Police, where she underwent registration for her alleged offense and was compelled to attend a compulsory two-hour lecture on Islamic principles concerning hijab and its advantages. Despite the government's efforts to cover up the circumstances of her death, a leaked photograph from the ICU showed Mahsa’s fragile body connected to medical devices with the trace of blood streaming down from her ear, suggesting that the Morality Police may have tortured her during her custody.
“On the day of Mahsa’s funeral, many people from nearby cities gathered in her hometown, Saqqaz, a Kurdish town in West Iran. A handwritten note on her grave, scribbled in bright red ink, declared: “Dear Jina, you are not dead! Your name will become our watchword.””
During her funeral, women took their hijab off and shouted, "Jin! Jian! Azadi!"[2]. Indeed, her name became a watchword within Iran and continues to resonate worldwide since then.
Figure 1: Handwritten note on Jina’s burial ground: “Dear Jina, you are not dead! Your name will become our watchword”, Image created by the author.
Mahsa's tragic story is the culmination of years of growing repression against women in public spaces in Iran. Despite the government's ruthless efforts to suppress dissenters, one of the biggest protests since the establishment of the Islamic regime in 1979 was triggered by this incident. This time, the unrest has transcended social classes and spread across age groups, including children and students in schools.
The aftermath of Mahsa's death shines a light on the ongoing struggle for women's rights in Iran, revealing the depth and breadth of the oppression that many Iranians still face for the simple act of claiming the right to (be in) the city. The incident is a poignant reminder of the numerous lesser-known micro-aggressions that continue to transpire every day, underscoring the urgency of confronting women's oppression and gender-based violence in Iran.
Figure 2: Uprising in Tehran, Keshavarz Boulevard September 2022, Photo by Darafsh, Source: Wikimedia Commons
Act II: Sepideh Means Bright
On July 16, 2022, Sepideh Rashno, 28-year-old editor and journalist, was on her daily commute in the women's section of a public bus in Tehran when she was confronted by another female passenger asking her to cover her hair. The argument escalated quickly, with both sides starting to film each other to record the confrontation. While the woman kept threatening Sepideh with sending her video to "Sepah", a common shorthand for Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), the other passengers on the bus came to Sepideh's rescue, forcing the aggressor out. Nevertheless, the aggressor kept her word: Sepideh was arrested the next day by plainclothes officers and sequestered in an unknown location. Soon thereafter, the hashtag "#Where_is_Sepideh_Rashno"[3] started to trend on Twitter.
On July 30, 2022, the Broadcasting Organization of the Islamic Republic of Iran aired a video of Sepideh's forced confessions. She was sitting in front of the camera with visible signs of torture on her face, looking lost and terrified. With her lifeless eyes fixed on the ground, she recited everything dictated to her. Everything about her appearance confirmed the rumors that, a few days earlier, she had been taken to the hospital for internal bleeding.
Through harnessing the broadcast media, the state projects a micro-aggression onto a broader geography at the national level, magnifying its visibility and menacing impact. The use of public confession is a common tactic for intimidating and deterring opposition and for showcasing the humiliating consequences of dissent for all to see. By exhibiting its power and control over the population through forced confessions of “wrongdoings”, the state not only discourages further dissent but also utilizes them as a means for shaping public opinion and justifying its actions to its supporters. In addition, the state encourages a culture of vigilantism by which its supporters intervene women’s presence and behavior in public spaces. The rise of vigilantism can, in turn, embolden acts of violence by members of society towards women, using even more brutal forms of on-the-spot punishment.
Act III: Marzieh Means Desirable
A case in point is that of Marzieh Ebrahimi (25), who on October 15, 2014, was driving in Isfahan when two men on a motorcycle approached her, threw acid on her face, and fled the scene. In this particular incident, an ephemeral event became permanently marked on a woman’s body to “warn” the public of the consequences of disobeying the Islamic dress code. Sadly, Marzieh is not the only victim of such an attack. According to the local media, would-be enforcers on motorbikes perpetrated acid attacks on at least other eight women driving in the street with their windows pulled down.
The suspects were never identified nor arrested but these attacks led to widespread panic and disquiet in Isfahan, with women fearing to set foot outside. Many have blamed the hardliners in the government for encouraging the attacks by campaigning for a stricter enforcement of the Islamic hijab. Rumors had been circulating a few weeks before the first acid attack, that an ominous text message was being sent to people warning "those wearing their hijab inappropriately will have acid thrown at their faces.”
To date, the Iranian police have only confirmed four attacks, one of which resulted in death. Notably, however, these incidents coincided with the Islamic Council's approval of legislation giving the green light to self-proclaimed vigilantes to exercise moral control over the public. The authorities rejected any association between the attacks and the radical religious groups, blaming personal animosities instead. Yet the question remains as to why the authorities cannot trace the origin of the threatening text messages or identify the attackers despite their nearly complete control over the telecommunications infrastructure and their strict surveillance practices in throughout the country.
Act IV: Too Many Names to Count
From the forced unveiling of women under Reza Shah in 1936 to the enforcement of hijab following the Islamic Revolution of 1979, women in Iran have been subjected to various forms of objectification and political instrumentalization. These oppressive circumstances have created a dynamic of conflict between the state, which wields control over the provision or withholding of rights, and women, who are often treated as objects of the state's ideology. Much of this battle for women's rights in Iran takes place in public spaces of cities, where women have been fighting for the right to be visible and present.
“During Iran’s two centuries-long history of modernization, the state has repeatedly used and abused the female body to realize and consolidate its oppressive ideological base. At the same time, the female body has been a battleground for resistance against these ideologies.”
Since the Islamic revolution, mandatory hijab has been the primary instrument for controlling the minds and bodies of women, regardless of locality, class, education, profession, or ethnicity. Mandatory hijab serves as both a physical and symbolic tool to enforce patriarchal control and limit women's presence in public spaces, thereby denying them equal access to social opportunities. It serves as a constant reminder of their place, or rather, lack thereof, in society, reinforcing the idea that women's bodies are not their own, but rather, property of the state and its ideology. To do so, theocratic political regimes often employ systematic violence through a variety of agents, including the Morality Police, self-proclaimed Islamic vigilantes, and even family members. The unpredictability of violence against women worsens the harm caused by formal or informal interventions, as it increases fear and anxiety, making it harder for women to take proactive steps to avoid it. This undermines their sense of control over their bodies and their autonomy.
Figure 3: Morality Police petrol in Tehran, Photo by Satyar Emami, Source: Wikimedia Commons
Following the presidential election on August 3, 2021, when hardliners emerged as the winners, women experienced a significant decline in their already suffocating daily experiences in public spaces, facing increased verbal harassment and physical violence from brazen vigilantes under the permissive gaze of the Morality Police. Before the election, women activists had repeatedly warned about the possibility of heightened state oppression and social control, and their predictions were proven right. As one of his first actions in the office, President Ebrahim Raisi intensified the social pressure on women who disobey hijab rules by ordering all government entities to strictly adhere to the "Chastity and Hijab Law". The stricter implementation of the hijab law with a range of sanctions and deprivation from social services has had a profound impact on women's ability to navigate and utilize public spaces, affecting both their personal and financial well-being.
The controversial enforcement of hijab-wearing requirements in cars is an example of the formalization of the previously normalized and tolerated practice of vigilantism. This new policing mechanism allows not just police officers but also ordinary citizens to report motorists who violate the hijab rules by submitting their plate number online. The car’s owner is then summoned via text message to the HQ of Morality Police for questioning, paying fines and, in some cases, having their car impounded for two weeks.
Men too can be questioned and fined for allowing women with “improper hijab” to drive or travel in their cars. When a car is shared with other members of the household, this collective punishment affects everyone in that household. Additionally, men seeking to avoid such collective punishment find themselves incentivized to participate in the subjugation of women to an excessive level by prohibiting their female relatives from using the family car and limiting their mobility. Through this process, men essentially become part of the state’s ever-expanding tentacles in enforcing the rules of public life while facilitating the permeation of the state’s surveillance machine into the private realm.
Figure 4: First squad of Morality Police in Tehran, Photo by Satyar Emami, Source: Wikimedia Commons
The recent spate of aggressive assaults carried out by unknown yet possibly protected perpetrator, which employed chemical means to target female students throughout the country, constitutes another instance of employing violent measures to quell the women's movement and coerce their retreat. Nevertheless, the government's attempts to enforce the "Chastity and Hijab Law" and regulate women's social presence have had the opposite effect, as evidenced by the increased determination and visibility of women protesters on the streets. The brave women are defying the hijab rule by burning their scarves, dancing and shouting for freedom while asserting their agency in the public space of their city, and actively resisting authority even at the risk of serious injuries or death.
“Mahsa’s Movement asserts the humanity and agency of women by celebrating their performative everyday acts of disobedience –as a powerful counterweight to the everyday acts of microaggression.”
Iranian women are demanding a recognition that defies their treatment as mere objects to be covered or uncovered based on the whim of the state. The main slogan of this movement, "Woman, Life, Freedom", directly targets and challenges the patriarchal hegemony and emphasizes the importance of women's autonomy and equal rights. No one knows whether the series of events and mass protests will lead to immediate political achievements for Iranians and, specifically, for women. However, there is no doubt that Iranian women are stepping into an important chapter in their long struggle for emancipation, a chapter which calls for bodily autonomy and equal rights, a chapter universally known by "Jin! Jian! Azadi!
Notes
[1] Mahsa’s nickname at home was Jina which is a Kurdish name meaning life.
[2] Jin! Jian! Azadi! Which translates to Woman! Life! Freedom! First shouted by women movements of Kurdistan.
[3] #سپیده_رشنو_كجاست
