My parents were supporters of the MEK who were arrested in 1982. Because my mother was pregnant with me, I was born in Evin Prison, where I grew up for 4 years. My uncle, a 19-year-old activist, was shot dead in the street in 1981, and I was named after him to keep his name alive.
I was in prison with my mother, but I was never able to see my father. My grandmother once recounted to me one visit to my father in prison, whom I had not seen until then. I wore my best clothes and remember a door at the end of the meeting corridor where I saw a man standing. My grandmother said he was my father. I ran to him, eager to see him, but as I was about to reach him, a guard shut the door. I hit the door and fell to the ground. This was my first and last meeting with my father, who was executed on August 2, 1988.
He is not only a hero for me, but a role model that in choosing this path one must be ready to sacrifice the best things.
I am not alone in experiencing these atrocities, but one of thousands. We are a generation that has seen this regime’s bloodshed and crimes. We will neither forgive nor forget, and this blood will never have been shed in vain, but is a guarantee to continue until the overthrow of the regime and liberation of our suffering people from the yoke of the mullahs has been won.
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