This letter from political prisoner Maryam Yahyavi is posted in full on Instagram in Farsi by prisoner Golrokh Iraee, and excerpted by BurnTheCage and CPIMLM. It is translated to English by IEC volunteers.

Evin Women's Ward, Tuesday, July 24, 1403 (August 13, 2024), around eight o'clock in the evening. Most of the women in the ward, with various political and ideological leanings, have gathered in the yard. Their faces show anger, astonishment, and worry. Some are talking to each other, while others stare off into space.  

The sound of a lighter is heard as cigarettes are lit and extinguished. Pakshan (Azizi) is at the far end of the yard, talking to a few people. It doesn't take long before she joins us. The women gather around her. She looks at them with a smile and says firmly and resolutely: "My family, who had nothing to do with this, received a one-year sentence. They have endured immense psychological and security pressure during this time. Now, my worries for them have lessened a bit, but they were unjustly convicted."

Some sit on the ground around Pakshan. Each person says something encouraging to show their solidarity and protest. Fellow inmates share stories of what they've seen and experienced. They talk about the 1980s and the summer of 1988, and about Shirin Alamholi, the Kurdish political prisoner whose resilience was exemplary. Shirin, who was executed along with four other political prisoners on May 9, 2010, endured severe torture.

They speak of Zeynab Jalalian, who was under a death sentence for two years, which was then commuted to life imprisonment. She is now in her seventeenth year of imprisonment in exile, under the harshest conditions and without even furlough for medical treatment.  

These narratives point to one thing: The Islamic Republic, for the past 46 years, has eliminated dissidents and opponents in the same way. Always using solitary confinement, torture, and extracting confessions under severe interrogations, accusing and fabricating cases, humiliation, insult, threats, pressure on families, show trials, long sentences, exile, and executions. Its essence and behavior have not changed.  

The intensity of pressures varies depending on the political and social issues inside and outside the country. These pressures have been much harsher on Kurdish, Baluch, and Arab activists.  

Pakshan Azizi, from Mahabad [Kurdistan], is a social worker and women's rights activist who has worked for years to end discrimination against women and has tirelessly helped in refugee camps of those escaping ISIS in northern and eastern Syria (Rojava).

In August 2023, she was arrested along with three members of her family. She spent months in solitary confinement under interrogation and torture, during which she went on a hunger strike to protest the detention of her family and her own situation. The consequences of that strike are evident over time. Pakshan defended her political and ideological beliefs during interrogations and court appearances, refusing to make a forced confession, ultimately resulting in her being sentenced to death.

A month before her sentencing, on the night of the presidential election, the death sentence for Sharifeh Mohammadi was issued in Lakan Prison, Rasht. Two other fellow inmates, Varisha Moradi and Nasim Simyari, are also at risk of receiving the death penalty.

All these sentences and the conditions imposed send a clear message: it is retaliation against women, Kurdistan, and dissidents. These are the same women who courageously rose and stood firm in the Zhina [Mahsa Jina Amini] movement, despite humiliation, insult, threats, discrimination, and psychological, physical, and sexual harassment. They persisted in their path alongside men whose rights were also violated, continuing to fight for equality and their rights.

I cannot forget, amidst the execution of this land’s children during the Zhina movement, one of the regime officials declared loudly: “The God of the 1980s is still alive.”

Whether the God of the 1980s is alive or dead, the masses are aware and more enraged than before. They not only refuse to remain silent but live the struggle with a new way of life.

People who have never tasted justice and freedom see their tables growing smaller and smaller, yet they have become more aware and have bravely stepped into the arena to achieve their ultimate goal.

… The voice of one of the comrades disrupts my thoughts. The prison guard insists on closing the yard, claiming to be under orders and saying he must answer to his superiors.

One of the friends replies, “Tell your superiors that the women’s ward has no intention of leaving the yard.” The others affirm. The guard knows not to insist on such a night. He leaves, and we begin to sing an anthem.

“The stars fight, the night retreats, and the bright morning arrives…” followed shortly by “In his chest, my dearest, lies a forest of stars…”

I think of how, years ago, these songs were composed with such passion and hope. Songs that became the spirit of the struggle against oppression and injustice and, after all these years, continue to light our hearts on such nights.

We ask Pakshan to sing a Kurdish anthem, and together with Varisha, she sings: “Resistance is life, resistance is life…”

It’s around one in the morning. Some are lying around the yard. Silence has enveloped everything. I see Pakshan gazing at the sky. It has been a year since she last saw the night sky without a barrier. In these six months that I have lived with her, I admire her steadfastness in her ideological and political principles.

Pakshan is a woman who understands the suffering of women, cares about the oppressed people of the Middle East, and her efforts and struggle are for improving their conditions. Pakshan is a social worker, and it makes no difference to her whether she helps someone from the center, a Kurdish, Turk, Lor, Arab, Baluch, Gilak friend, or the oppressed people of Syria and Gaza.

Even in prison, Pakshan does whatever she can for anyone, regardless of their political and ideological orientation. The government fears such individuals.

Stay safe, my dear friend.
We will stand together until the abolition of the death penalty.

Maryam Yahyaoui
September 1403 (August 2024)
Evin Prison