THE LAND OF THE UNFREE

One of my constant fears is being imprisoned by the Islamic Republic. It started when I was nine years old, when the theocratic regime took over the country. Born in the United States to Iranian parents, I attended American schools and spoke English as my first language. My Farsi, the language of Iran, was spotty at best. What worried me was not so much free speech as bad speech. Saying the wrong thing or using the wrong words that could lead to questioning were constantly on my mind.

When I was arrested by the morality police for the first time, I lost my speech. They arrested me for wearing pink lip gloss. They scolded me for my lip gloss, made me take off my sunglasses so they could point out my eyeliner, and handed me a tissue and ordered me to take it off . They forced me to wipe my lips and eyes in front of a crowd watching me, while I was humiliated and silent. These Revolutionary Guards were all women. Not having a voice meant I had no resistance, which in retrospect probably saved me from something worse, like the fate of Mahsa Amini.

A month before leaving Iran, I was arrested again by the Revolutionary Guards. This time, they followed me to our house and forced their way in, searching for me and my “not Islamic enough” attire. My parents were terrified that I would be taken away. As the guard walked up the stairs, my parents asked me to wash my face and come back in my school uniform while they tried to push the guard away. I did so and was reprimanded by the guard in front of my parents. Once again, I had no speeches. And again, that may have kept me from being imprisoned. But my parents did not allow me to leave the house unsupervised for the rest of my stay in Iran. I consented, effectively giving up freedom, but I was too afraid not to give it up.

My parents never recovered from this home visit. My father talked about it until his death 32 years later. I know this is also how Salehi and Hajipour’s parents feel after their sons were taken from them. Not to mention the families of countless other imprisoned musicians, artists, filmmakers, athletes and journalists who have spoken out.

Many of these resistance fighters were born after the Islamic revolution of 1979 and have never known the slightest freedom of expression. They grew up in stifling fear of extreme punishment for expressing their opinions. I sometimes feel like this is the case here in the United States when you don’t accept the status quo of your social circle, especially in these politically charged times. But you’re not going to go to jail for this, be tortured, sexually assaulted, not given due process and most likely be executed for this.

Last year, the Islamic government executed an incredible 834 prisoners on charges similar to those of Salehi and Hajipour. With an already high record in 2024, it seems that the government is looking to beat its own record. However, Hajipour released a beautiful new song in January, “Ashghal,” which translates to “Trash,” on his social media and streaming platforms. The trash he’s referring to is himself, the fact that he had no one to post bail, the fact that he’s not allowed to sing, the fact that if everyone Besides, he will always stay in Iran because no matter where he goes, his heart will be there, as a son of Iran.

Salehi also continues to return to music. His first arrest took place in September 2021. The accusation concerned the truth in his rappers about corruption, poverty, executions and violence in Iran. He was released on bail and went straight back to the mic, picking up where he left off.

“(Hip-hop) is a genre that (the Islamic regime) is afraid of,” Iranian electronic musician Parsa told me in 2020 when I spoke to him for my story “Technology is Music to Their Ears” for the Los Angeles Times. “Rapping is about arguing and sharing your convictions. Either it’s about parties or it’s about social issues.”

Salehi was released from prison on November 18, 2023. This was not so much an amnesty as a strategic move by the government to quell public discontent. Shortly after his release, Salehi posted a video on his YouTube channel, talking about his time in prison, thanking everyone who supported him while he was inside and apologizing for any distress his detention could have caused. He was violently arrested again less than two weeks after the publication of this video, beaten with a rifle butt and placed in police custody, and accused of “… publicly making false statements on social networks without supporting documents , and for spreading lies and disturbing public opinion.” .” In other words, completely absurd accusations.

Arrest, torture and exile are extreme prices to pay for words. This is in stark contrast to getting slapped with a Parent Music Resource Center sticker – guaranteed to increase your sales, btw, so that’s what you want – or getting trolled on most ineffective of all Western punishments, “getting canceled”. ” – which only works if someone agrees to the cancellation.

Iranian musicians have nothing to gain and absolutely everything to lose, including their lives. They receive no royalties from US-based platforms where they have millions of streams and views due to sanctions against that country. Salehi’s passport has been confiscated and he cannot leave Iran, even if his death sentence is overturned. Neither does Hajipour. As of March 1, 2024, Hajipour was sentenced to three years and eight months in prison.

But they continue to resist through their music.

“The passion you have for your homeland is part of you and you fight for it, no matter what, this feeling keeps you going,” says Arash Rahbary, main songwriter, guitarist and vocalist of the metal band Iranian TarantisT. Based in Los Angeles since 2009, Rahbary grew up in post-revolutionary Iran. He illegally accessed Western music and performed secret shows in the basement of his family home, risking arrest if discovered. TarantisT has released many songs protesting the Islamic government.

“To express ourselves,” says Rahbary, explaining why they took this risk. “To talk about a situation that was not normal. To speak out against all the pressure and brainwashing that the government was doing.”

“The key is everyone’s ability to take risks,” Joan Baez told me when I once asked her about her activism. “It’s the hardest thing. Without this risk, we will not achieve real social change.”

To see our list of the 100 Greatest Rock Stars of All Time, click here.