In the heart of ancient Kerman, Iran, Venus Hosseini-Nejad, a 28-year-old artist, spreads love, hope, and unity through her creative expression. But her world has been turned upside down, and her family fears for her life.
For over a month, Venus has been detained by the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps' Intelligence Detention Centre. Her family, especially her distant cousin Negar Manshady, residing in Perth, are deeply concerned about her well-being. Venus, who has bipolar disorder and has been on medication for over a decade, is at risk of not receiving proper medical care in prison.
The situation took a turn for the worse when Iran's state-run broadcaster, Islamic Republic of Iran Broadcasting, aired what human rights groups describe as "forced confessions." Venus and other young detainees, including Peyvand Naeimi and Shayan Shakibayi, were coerced into confessing to organizing mass protests that rocked Iran in late December and early January.
But here's where it gets controversial: Venus's family insists that she had nothing to do with these protests. They believe she, along with Peyvand, is being falsely accused and used as a scapegoat. As members of the Baha'i religious minority, a group that has faced decades of persecution in Iran, they are often the first to be targeted with false allegations and hate campaigns.
Venus's cousin, Tara Wiedemann, based in the US, emphasizes that her cousin is not the person being portrayed in these confessions. "It's disheartening and heartbreaking for the family," she says. "We feel helpless, but we're doing what we can by sharing her story and asking the world to speak up for her."
And this is the part most people miss: the Baha'i community, the largest non-Muslim religious minority in Iran, has faced ongoing persecution since the 1979 revolution. Shia Islam is the state religion, and while the constitution recognizes several minority faiths, the Baha'i faith is not accepted. United Nations experts describe the Baha'i community as "among the most severely persecuted religious minorities in Iran."
Venus's family fears that she could be transferred to a prison at any moment, facing the possibility of execution. They have made multiple requests to visit her, but Iran's authorities have denied these requests.
The case of Peyvand Naeimi is equally concerning. He, too, has been denied a lawyer and faces serious charges, including collaboration and espionage. His family insists that he is innocent and that the accusations are baseless.
Iran Human Rights reports that authorities have been transferring many cases to Revolutionary Courts, recharacterizing alleged killings as national security offences. This means that defendants like Peyvand and Venus lose the right to choose their own lawyers, putting them at an even greater disadvantage.
The families of these young detainees are calling on the international community, including the Australian government, to intervene and ensure justice for all the people of Iran. They want these youths to be released and for their voices to be heard.
"We are deeply worried about what could happen to them," says Emilia Nazari, another distant cousin of Peyvand living in Melbourne. "The charges they face are extremely serious, and we fear for their lives."
This story is a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play and the importance of speaking up for those whose voices are silenced. It's a call to action, urging us to question, to listen, and to fight for justice and freedom.
