Iran International
The Islamic Republic’s harsh response to recent protests has spilled beyond politics into sport, where athletes now face a stark choice: compete in silence or risk reprisal.
As families hold 40th-day memorials and students continue demonstrations on university campuses, the country’s widening crisis has left athletes weighing personal conscience against state pressure.
In the early days of unrest, athletes across disciplines signaled support through Instagram posts. Before the January crackdown, former national football team captain Mohammad Khakpour responded online to the Supreme Leader’s characterization of protesters as “rioters.”
“One cannot expect perpetual silence from the people who are being crushed under the burden of high prices, unemployment, and insecurity and then have their voices silenced by labeling them as rioters.”
He added: “The people who come to the streets defenselessly have neither weapons nor a platform; they only have voices. Silencing their voices with force, bullets, batons, or fear neither solves the problem nor makes the wound smaller."
Some have gone further. Goalkeeper Rashid Mazaheri, long known for outspoken criticism, published a defiant Instagram post on Wednesday addressing the Supreme Leader directly: “Khamenei, beware that your rule on this divine land has ended.”
In the same message, he wrote that being a champion means standing against injustice, not winning medals: “We won’t bow our heads to you!”
The post was removed within hours. His wife wrote on Instagram that she feared for his life and would hold the government responsible for his safety. Supporters interpreted the message as confirmation he had been detained, though authorities have not commented and his whereabouts remain unclear.
The pressure has also reshaped national team rosters. Two women’s national team footballers preparing for the Women’s Asia Cup in Australia this month—Zahra Alizadeh and Kousar Kamali—publicly withdrew from the squad.
Kamali wrote: “When the heart is wounded and the soul is exhausted, football is no longer a refuge. I can’t pretend everything is normal.”
“This decision is not born of anger, but of awareness; it is not out of disrespect, but out of respect for my conscience. I say goodbye not to football, but to the national team — in the hope that one day it will again be possible to play for the people with a peaceful heart.”
Symbolic gestures have also drawn scrutiny. In recent weeks, some footballers have refrained from celebrating goals altogether or marked them with muted gestures reflecting protest or solidarity rather than triumph.
In several competitions, players have reportedly been barred from wearing black armbands or other signs of mourning.
According to Sami Sport FC, match supervisors have been instructed to suspend games if players use black clothing, ribbons or armbands. Facing possible disqualification and citing mounting security pressure, the club announced it would withdraw from the remainder of the season.
Two weeks earlier, Sami Sport players entered the pitch in black kits and armbands. After scoring, they covered their faces in a gesture of mourning rather than celebrating.
The episodes echo earlier moments when Iranian athletes declined to sing the national anthem—reminders that even arenas meant for national unity have become sites of political contest.
The stakes are likely to rise further this year. Iran has qualified for the World Cup, and all three of its group-stage matches are scheduled to be played in the United States. The tournament will place the team under intense international scrutiny, including from a large Iranian diaspora that has become increasingly vocal.
During the 2022 World Cup, many fans harshly criticized the national team and even called for a boycott, accusing players of indifference to the “Women, Life, Freedom” protests and to the state’s violent crackdown.
This time, the political climate is even more charged. Iranian society has grown more radicalized, repression much harsher and mistrust deeper than three years ago.
The government is likely to exert tight control over players to prevent any gestures of dissent on the sport’s biggest stage. But with global attention fixed on the team, even silence—or the absence of it—may carry political meaning.
“I am horrified by reports that at least eight people, including two children, have been sentenced to death in connection with the protests,” Volker Turk told the UN Human Rights Council in Geneva. Another 30 people appeared to face the same risk, he added.
Amnesty International said last week that at least 30 people connected to the protests face possible execution. Eight of them – Saleh Mohammadi, 18, Mohammad Amin Biglari, 19, Ali Fahim, Abolfazl Salehi Siavashani, Amirhossein Hatami, Shahin Vahedparast Kolor, Shahab Zohdi and Yaser Rajaifar – were sentenced to death in February within weeks of their arrests.
At least 22 others, including two 17-year-olds, are awaiting trial or remain in legal proceedings, the rights group said. Amnesty reported that defendants had been subjected to “torture-tainted confessions” and other serious due process violations, including denial of access to lawyers during investigations and rejection of independent counsel chosen by families.
The organization called for an immediate halt to executions and the quashing of protest-related death sentences.
Human rights reports say tens of thousands of people have been detained in recent weeks, with some independent sources estimating the true number of summonses and arrests at close to 100,000 or even higher.
A significant portion of those detained are teenagers, young adults and citizens under the age of 30 – a generation that often has no prior experience of security interrogations or expedited court proceedings.
“I am extremely alarmed about the potential for regional military escalation and its impact on civilians, and I hope the voice of reason prevails,” Turk said in the same address.
“We, the filmmakers of Iran, condemn the suppression of people’s protests under any pretext. Protest is the natural and civil right of every human being. No power has the right to consider itself above the people,” the signatories wrote.
In a statement on January 25, the editorial board of Iran International said more than 36,500 people were killed during the targeted suppression of the Iranian protesters on the orders of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei.
Referring to the killing of demonstrators, they added: “Shooting at people who have taken to the streets with empty hands is a crime against the right to life and has no justification.”
The statement, titled “We stand with the people of Iran,” comes after weeks of unrest and follows similar declarations by other civil and professional groups.
Earlier, more than 60 writers and activists in the field of children’s and young adult literature from several countries issued a separate statement condemning the killings on January 8 and 9.
On February 16, the Coordinating Council of Iranian Teachers’ Trade Associations announced a day of public mourning and school closures on February 18 in response to the deaths of more than 230 children and teenagers during the January protests. The move amounted to a strike by teachers and a call on families to keep students at home.
In their statement, the filmmakers pointed to nearly five decades of governance despite what they described as vast natural and human resources, arguing that justice, welfare and security have not been achieved. They cited organized corruption, plunder of public wealth and what they called a “fear-inducing ideology” as drivers of widespread poverty and despair.
Among the signatories are Pegah Ahangarani, Mahnaz Afshar, Rakhshan Bani-Etemad, Jafar Panahi, Katayoun Riahi, Saman Salour, Kianoush Ayari and Asghar Farhadi.
The filmmakers concluded that they would document “these days and these wounds” and defend freedom of expression while standing alongside the Iranian people.
Mazaheri on Wednesday posted an image on Instagram of Khamenei labeled “Satan,” with the caption: “Your command over this sacred land has ended.”
The post was later deleted, and her wife Maryam Abdollahi said the goalkeeper’s current whereabouts are unknown.
The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC)-affiliated Fars News said on Wednesday that a summons had been issued for Mazaheri over an alleged 4-billion-toman - $80,000 - fraud, and that the footballer was "exploiting the country's situation and fabricating lies to avoid paying his debts."
Mazaheri's wife rejected the Fars report, calling them a “carefully engineered lie meant to cover up the truth.”
“Any reports suggesting his arrest over financial matters are fabricated lies meant to hide the truth," she posted on Instagram.
“Rashid knew about these traps and has stood courageously, remaining in his homeland. His bravery cannot be hidden behind these dirty scenarios," she said.
Mazaheri was a goalkeeper for Tehran giants Esteghlal and was even named in Iran's preliminary squad for the 2018 World Cup in Russia.
Across platforms, the pattern repeats: a final slogan, a warning, a declaration — and then silence.
Profiles remain searchable, timelines intact, bios unchanged. Friends return to the comment sections to grieve. Strangers leave messages of defiance.
What began as personal accounts have, in death, become public memorials.
Sam Rezaee: a final slogan
Sam Rezaee was 21 years old when he posted, “Long Live the Shah (King).”
Born in Shiraz, he joined X in 2024 and quickly became active in pro-monarchy circles, mixing political commentary with humor and memes. Friends say he followed online trends closely and cared deeply about how he presented himself, both digitally and in person.
On January 8, near Saadi Cinema in Shiraz, Sam was struck by pellets in the neck and chest. A source close to the family confirmed that a viral video circulating online shows the moment he was shot.
“He was still alive here,” the source said. “They took him to the hospital, where he later died.”
“It is very important for us to let the world know this is how Sam was killed and what they did to him,” the source added.
Sam had graduated from Iran’s elite gifted-students school system and worked in his family’s jewelry shop. He planned to study medicine in Italy.
Authorities delayed handing over his body for a week, the source said. Officials tried to pressure the family to declare that he was affiliated with the Basij militia. The family refused and were required to sign a pledge to remain silent.
He was buried under security supervision. Even the 40th-day memorial was sparsely attended.
His timeline remains visible, halted at that final message.
Raha Bohloulipour: a final declaration
Raha Bohloulipour was 23 when she posted her last message.
A first-year Italian literature student at the University of Tehran, she ran a Telegram channel with nearly 24,000 subscribers and had more than 4,500 followers on X.
Her final Telegram post read: “I’ve connected for a moment and I just want to write: Woman, Life, Freedom – forever.” After that, she never returned.
Bohloulipour was killed by live ammunition during protests on January 9 and buried in her hometown of Firouzabad in Fars province, according to colleagues and local sources.
In the days before her death, she wrote openly about exhaustion and fear.
“I’m disgusted – disgusted, disgusted – and so exhausted with the Islamic Republic. From the moment I stepped into the faculty today until I left, I was in tears... I’m unbearably tired and disgusted with the Islamic Republic.”
In another post she wrote: “…when I leave the dorm, deep down I’m not sure whether I’ll come back at night or not. Living under the shadow of the Islamic Republic.”
Students at the University of Tehran commemorated her during a protest gathering and chanted: “For every one person killed, a thousand stand behind them.”
Her channel remains frozen on that final declaration.
Vahid Mohammadlou: a bio left unchanged
Vahid Mohammadlou, 39, described himself on X as: “Former military man → soldier of Reza Shah II Pahlavi → soldier of the land of Iran || ‘Long live Iran, long live the King.’”
Posting under @IraniansWarrior, he had more than 3,700 followers.
On January 8 in Sadeghiyeh (Aryashahr), Tehran, he was shot in the eye and died from his injuries, according to family accounts and obituary posts. He left behind two children, aged 9 and 4.
In a widely circulated video, his four-year-old daughter hugs his photograph and asks those around her to leave. “Leave the room, I would like only my dad to be next to me,” she says in the heart-wrenching video.
His bio remains as he wrote it.
Mosayeb Nezami: a call to the streets
Mosayeb Nezami, 32, was a farmer from Borujerd in Lorestan province. He joined X in 2019 and had more than 1,500 followers.
His final post read: “Anger has to move into the streets – only tweeting lets us vent.”
On January 8 in Kourosh Square, Borujerd, he was shot from behind with live ammunition. The bullets struck his shoulder and heart. He died from his injuries.
Nezami had lost his father at age 10 and became the sole breadwinner for his family, supporting two sisters and a younger brother, according to colleagues.
His account still carries that final line.
Alireza Mousavi Noor: a warning in advance
Alireza Mousavi Noor, 29, known on X as Derakoolaye Ghamgin – Sad Dracula – had more than 10,000 followers.
On January 7, he wrote: “If I don’t come online again, don’t forget me. Know that I didn’t die for nothing. Say my name at the celebration of freedom.”
He was shot and killed the next day during protests in Baharestan, Isfahan.
The message now reads as premonition.
Masoud Zatparvar: from influencer to protester
Masoud (Mehdi) Zatparvar was an international bodybuilding coach and two-time World Classic Bodybuilding Overall Champion. His Instagram account had 242,000 followers, and he ran a website providing training and nutrition programs.
In his final post in January 2026, he wrote: “We only want our rights. A voice that has been stifled in me for forty years must be shouted. You caused what we are going through today. You took our youth, hope, dreams, and even the bare minimum from us. Today I am here – so that tomorrow I don’t look in the mirror and say I had no backbone, no honor. I stood, whatever the cost, I will pay it. I, Masoud Zatparvar, am in the street today. I have neither fear nor worry! I want my rights.”
He was killed on January 8, in Rasht after being struck by live ammunition, according to local accounts and social media posts.
His Instagram page has not been updated since.
Hamed Hamidian: A plea to Trump
Hamed Hamidian, 38, an X user with more than 7,300 followers who joined the platform in 2009, addressed US President Donald Trump in his final post before the January killings.
“Mr. president @realDonaldTrump, since you said you’re watching the situation in Iran, at least 20 people got killed! We can’t beat the devil empty handed, I’m begging you to cut to the chase and finish the Mullahs' regime.”
He was later reported killed during the protests on January 8 in Tehran.
Social media becomes a battleground
Researchers say this transformation — from personal timeline to digital shrine — has become a defining feature of protest movements in Iran.
“In the waves of anti-regime protests sweeping Iran, social media has played a paradoxical yet indispensable role as both a lifeline and a battleground for information and identity,” said Sahar Tahvili, an artificial intelligence and information technology researcher.
“In this environment, control over social media is no longer peripheral to politics — it is the political struggle itself,” she told Iran International.
Even during internet disruptions, users have documented protests through satellite connections, VPNs and diaspora networks, while authorities deployed competing narratives and digital manipulation, she added.
Each account now stands as a frozen timestamp — unfinished testimonies suspended in time. The posts remain, the timestamps fixed, but the authors do not.
