Die großartige iranische Zeichnerin und Filmemacherin Marjane Satrapi lebt nun schon seit mehr als 10 Jahren im Exil. In der New York Times hat sie aufgeschrieben, was die Demonstrationen der Opposition in ihr auslösten. (Unten ein Trailer für ihren Film „Persepolis“ – über das Aufwachsen mit der Revolution – und gegen die Revolution – muss man gesehen haben!)
The question much of the media asked before the election was: “Are Iranians ready for democracy?”
“YES!” came the answer, loud and oh, so clear.
With a voter turnout of 85 percent, they started to dream that change was possible.
They started to believe “Yes they can,” too.
It’s likely needless to remind you that this was not the first time Iranians showed how much they love freedom. Look only at the 20th century: They launched the Constitutional Revolution of 1906 (the first in Asia); nationalized the oil industry in 1951 (the first Middle Eastern country to do so); mounted the revolution of 1979; and engineered the student revolt of 1999. Which brings us to now, and that deafening cry for democracy.
Almost 20 years ago, when I started studying art in Tehran, the very idea of “politics” was so frightening that we didn’t even dare think about it. To talk about it? Beyond belief!
To demonstrate in the streets against the president? Surreal!
Criticize the supreme leader? Apocalyptic!
Shouting “Down with Khamenei”? Death!
Death, torture and prison are part of daily life for the youth of Iran. They are not like us, my friends and I at their age; they are not scared. They are not what we were.
They hold hands and scream: “Don’t be afraid! Don’t be afraid! We are together!”
They understand that no one will give them their rights; they must go get them.
They understand that unlike the generation before them — my generation, for whom the dream was to leave Iran — the real dream is not to leave Iran but to fight for it, to free it, to love it and to reconstruct it.
They hold hands and scream: “We will fight! We will die! But we won’t be humiliated!”
They went out knowing that going to each demonstration meant signing their death warrants.
Today I read somewhere that “the velvet revolution” of Iran became the “velvet coup,” with a little note of irony, but let me tell you something: This generation, with its hopes, dreams, anger and revolt, has forever changed the course of history. Nothing is going to be the same.
From now on, nobody will judge Iranians by their so-called elected president.
From now on, Iranians are fearless. They have regained their self-confidence.
Despite all the dangers they said NO!
And I’m convinced this is just the beginning.
From now on, I will always say: Once you leave your homeland, you can live anywhere. But I refuse to only die in Iran. I will one day live in Iran…or else my life will have had no meaning.