Iran’s security forces have killed at least 448 people since protests began more than two months ago, according to a human rights group.
Iran Human Rights (IHR) said those killed include including 60 children under the age of 18 and 29 women. The UN high commissioner for human rights recently warned that “a fully fledged human rights crisis” was taking place.
Three people across Iran speak about how the protests have evolved and how they have changed daily life in their city.
‘In parts of Tehran, people chant nearly every night’
My area of Tehran was active the first two weeks, but then a lot more police and basij [paramilitary volunteer militia] forces started guarding the main streets and especially the main square.
So active protests turned into other forms, mainly honking cars and creating traffic. That has subsided too. On occasions that are widely agreed on, people turn out again.
In my area there’s a lot less chanting at night, nearly nonexistent. But that’s rather an exception. Other parts of town that I’ve visited , people chant nearly every night. The most common one is ‘death to the dictator’.
Sometimes there are clashes at night. There are all kinds of plainclothes basij [among the protesters] – it breaks trust in the crowd.
I do not go out that much because I’m active online and cleaning my devices of any troublesome content is too much of a hassle every time. In my area, there’s the risk of being recognised in protests by a basiji from your own neighbourhood. The dynamic is complicated.
There’s a lot of graffiti, they’re regularly painted over and done again. I have done a few myself. They used to be the names of the victims, mainly Mahsa Amini and Nika Shakarami. Sometimes it’s slogans like “down with the dictator”. Very often “zan zendegi azadi” [women, life, freedom].
People try to ignore the hijab law when they can where they can. As far as I’ve seen it’s on the rise and as many as four out of 10 women on main streets don’t have their heads covered.
Many friends have said that it is extremely stressful, but they try to keep doing it. The forces are ignoring it mainly because they can’t afford to go after everyone. Some more courageous ones even pass the forces without a hijab [in the central square].
Mohsen*, 38, works in marketing in Tehran
‘I see women unveiled daily now’
From the beginning there haven’t been as many protests here, compared with other cities.
Things are not that different on the surface compared with before everything started, but there are differences nonetheless. There are way more guards in every square than I have ever seen before. They are equipped mostly with batons and tasers, but sometimes they have guns. But there is also a sense of defiance among people.
Now it is mostly civil disobedience, like unveiling hijab, strikes, gatherings in university and chanting “death to the dictator”. We had some violent days [during protests in mid-November]. A lot of people have been arrested, including two of my closest friends.
People write anti-government slogans everywhere in public. City officials try to clean them up as fast as possible, but they still reappear. [On Tuesday] night, after the match and the defeat of Iran’s team by the USA, people actually cheered in the streets and in their homes.
I see women [unveiled] daily now on the bus, on the metro, even in the university. It is mostly young women and girls. Before, there were almost none, at least not here. My region is very conservative. Most people don’t react, but [there is] sometimes a bit of staring from older people .
Last week my friend and I walked in front of the police with no veil. It was terrifying, but we did it. After we walked away from them, a girl and her friend ask me for a fist bump and then gave me candy. A couple of old men next to the guards laughed and said “Mashallah” [What God has willed]. I try to do it as often as I can. Sometimes I get too scared, sometimes I feel more brave.
Families don’t support this action. They are either scared for their lives or are religious and strict. My family is in the first category. My father advises me daily to not get involved, but I do it anyway. It feels natural – how have we lived all these years without doing this? Without feeling this freedom that [so many] women have?
Right now, [protests in Tabriz] are declining, but this has happened before – a decline, then an uproar. Maybe this time it will be finished, but I really doubt that.
Farah*, 24, teacher in Tabriz, north-west Iran
‘Some are applying for studies abroad to escape the country’
On 17 November, security forces came into the university library and tried to drag out a student [who had been involved in protests]. Afterwards, students gathered in the library to protest, saying they don’t want intruders in the uni or guards attacking students. They chanted “university library is our home, don’t let enemies in our home”. The university threatened to suspend students, and some were actually suspended.
There are government plans to sentence students who protest to a 10 year ban from leaving the country. Applying to university abroad is not just an academic thing – it’s a way for students to escape when some are not being allowed to leave the country.
The protests are up and [down] in Shiraz. In mid-November, the protests were really strong here. My father saw [security forces] break car windows using batons and threaten people; people were honking their horns in protest.
Since then, protests here have abated a little. Truck drivers are joining the strike in many provinces in Iran to say they won’t work until the people are listened to, as a way of protest.
[Overall, protests] are still strong in Shiraz, but they happen in different ways. For example, people are boycotting businesses or shops that have been proved to support the regime. Some days, it’s all happening out there on the streets. They’re trying to keep the protest going, while trying to stay safe themselves.
Shirin*, 22, living in Shiraz, south-central Iran
*Names have been changed