by Kenneth Reveiz
NEW YORK - June 28, 2009I found out about the rally through an old high school acquaintance’s Facebook status:
“PEACE RALLY FOR IRAN NEW YORK Candle Light Vigil for NEDA and all those who have been so BRAVE in IRAN. Please come and support them. Wednesday, Jun 24 - 7:00pm New York Metro Union Square NYC www.freeiranbracelet.org”
The website sells, as the Live Strong campaign did, bracelets. It plans on “donating the proceeds to Reporters without Borders, who have continuously put their lives at risk in various countries throughout the world, so that the truth can be shown to all the citizen’s [sic] in the world.”
After work—still dressed in suit and tie—I took the subway to Union Square and watched as, at around 7:10PM, under a slowly graying sky, scores of Iranians and non-Iranians stretched columns of green across the plaza. Green, of course, is the color of Islam.
“This is solidarity for Iranian people,” one woman explained in a British-schooled accent to her daughters, who were dressed like twins but weren’t twins. The shorter girl held an unlit candle, a perfect white circle.
At the edges of the expanding display of color, a bearded man held a large sign. It read “DEATH TO DICTATORS,” around which words he had pasted black-and-white computer-printed pictures of Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, and President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, among others I did and didn’t recognize.
I was surprised to find opposition leader Mir-Hossein Mousavi on the poster. In fact, the bearded man was speaking to a tough-looking, white-haired police officer, complaining that he had been “pushed away” from the general demonstration. The others—one woman was near tears: “This is hurting! This is not our message!”—had been incensed by his “message of violence.” Claiming he had every right to be there as they did, it was determined that he should stand a little off to the side.
He spoke to a young woman with a tape recorder, explained that all those pictured on his poster were “basically the same,” explained that Mousavi was a hard-line dictator, no different from Ahmadinejad. I had heard one student call Ahmadinejad a “monster,” an “inhumane form of human being,” as “not deserving any kind of respect,” and “not part of Iran anymore.” I wondered if this man felt the same way about Ahmadinejad as she did, and still thought the comparison to Mousavi valid, I should have asked. In any case he spoke into the recorder with conviction, gently affirming his opinion, answering questions with the self-assurance of a serene and special truth.
An older, visibly distressed woman tried to interrupt the interview. “So aggressive—why is he so aggressive?” she asked after he and the reporter ignored her. Her husband cautioned her to not “entertain him.” I realized that, with black pen, he had scribbled into the eyes of his dictators.
There had been other rallies, in front of the United Nations building, at Union Square. This is what one tall, bespectacled redhead told me as she stretched a paper bag filled with pins to the crowd of at least a hundred.
One pin read, “NEDA Your voice will never die,” referring to a girl who was shot dead, allegedly by a Basij soldier. Videos and pictures of the brutal killing of the Iranian—now a martyr—circulate all over the Internet. “Neda” is Farsi for “voice.” A computer graphic of a dove, whose ruptured heart had plummeted centimeters below its body, accompanied the words.
The other pin read “WHERE IS MY VOTE?”
Sure enough, at the center of Union Square, which slowly grew darker, was, surrounded by a perimeter of young, white roses, a perimeter of white candles slowly being lit, which itself held down a banner, green and large: “WHERE IS MY VOTE?” with a splatter of blood; above the words were pictures of a brutalized Neda and more words: “Rest in Peace;” “Free Iran.”
As I walked back to the subway a man drew, with a compass, inky circles into a notebook.
