Four years ago, this photo reached me from inside the hospital in Tehran by someone who worked there and risked everything so the world would see what they did to Mahsa Jina Amini. That person told me plainly: she was killed.
Today, on the fourth anniversary of her killing at the hands of the morality police for not wearing proper hijab, her father, a man who has endured threats, surveillance, and a grief no parent should ever carry, has written a letter to his daughter:
My dear Jina,
Four years have passed, yet your grief has not faded, nor has it rested, even for a moment. To us, you are still that angel whose smile and gentle gaze softened the cruelty of the world around us.
In these days we think of you more than ever. In a time that grows darker each day, where hope fades a little more with every sunrise, our hearts still hold fast to the dreams of the young, dreamers like you. If you were here today, what would you be doing? Would we still see that fire for life in your eyes? Would you still speak of tomorrow, still weave your dreams for the days to come?
My dearest Jina, before anything else, before the world knew your name, you were simply our daughter. The daughter whose arrival gave our life a new color, and whose loss left a wound in our hearts that no words can reach. But fate wrote your story differently, and your name traveled far beyond our small home.
Over these four years, we have asked ourselves again and again: we had one daughter, and they took her from us. And yet the love of the people brought thousands of other children into our family. Amid all this pain, what we will never forget is the compassion and kindness that blossomed among the people of this land.
My precious Jina, four years now we have carried your absence with us, every day, every hour. Sometimes a single photograph, a memory, a glance, even the sound of your name is enough to bring everything back as if it happened this morning. For others, four years have passed. But for a father and mother who lost their child, time means something else entirely. Some griefs do not shrink with the passing of days; you simply learn to carry them.
And still, through all these years, we have kept one eye fixed on the earth that holds you, and one eye on the day the truth will finally come to light. We believe the secrets you and all your loved ones sleep beneath this soil will not stay buried forever.
My Jina, my precious daughter, your name and your memory are with us until our last breath.
Woman, Life, Freedom