‘I Can’t Be Your Mommy Anymore’: Baha’i Woman’s Letter Before 7-Year Prison Sentence

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Source: iranwire.com

Three days ago Anisa Fanaeian, an Iranian Baha’i woman in Semnan, was arrested by Islamic Republic security forces and taken to prison. Fanaeian had been sentenced in March 2024 to seven years in prison, on charges “forming groups to act against national security,” “educational activities and propagating against Sharia Islam,” and “propaganda against the regime,” which are the usual propaganda terms the Iranian government uses to try to distract from the facts.

What was Anisa’s true crime? Being a Baha’i – Iran’s largest non-Muslim religious minority, and a persecuted group – who cares for others.

Now in a letter to her two children, Anisa describes the hardships she, her family and all Iranian Baha’is face as a result of state-sanctioned persecution. “I can’t be your mommy anymore,” she says to her teenage daughter and son. “It will be hard, but life is hard … this will still be an important chance for you to grow, be strong, and learn.”

The letter was shared with IranWire by Jeff Kaufman, the director and producer of the documentary “Nasrin,” about the human rights lawyer Nasrin Sotoudeh, who spent time in prison with Anisa’s mother Sahba Rezvani.

Before her initial arrest, trial and sentencing last year, Anisa and a friend had visited Afghan refugees, including children, who lived and worked in “modern slavery” conditions producing bricks in underground workshops. For her efforts, Iranian security forces accused her of trying to brainwash or convert the Afghans – to turn them into Baha’is. The accusation is absurd, Anisa says, since the Afghan families she and others did not even know about her religious beliefs.

More remarkable than Anisa’s volunteering, or even her resilience, is her faith in Iran’s future. “Iran is a very beautiful country,” she says in her letter. “Iranians have a lot of abilities, the nature is wonderful, and we share a great history. I am sure we will have a bright future, if we can respect each other.”

But between now and that future stand Anisa’s seven years in prison – unless somehow they become less.

Anisa Fanaeian’s letter in full:

My Dear Setare and Shakib,

I am very proud to be your mother, and I’ve enjoyed every minute of being with you. Now that I am about to leave you and go to prison, I want us to absorb every last moment we have together. These days we talk with each other a lot, laugh with each other, and share so much. I need to hold onto this and keep you in my mind and in my heart when I am alone in jail.

Seven years is a terribly long time. Seven years when you are not in my life, and when I am not in yours. You will be adults when I am finally free. Shakib – you will be twenty-two! Setare – you will be twenty-six! Soon, I can’t be your mommy anymore.

It will hard, but life is hard. I think this will still be an important chance for you to grow, be strong, and learn. Remember to be kind and help other people. Injustice may be all around us, but we have a dream of the world without hate, without revenge.

You’ve already been through many difficult times. Your father (Siyamak, my dear husband) and I were both in prison when you were little. Shakib, you were three years old and so, so sweet. Setare, you were seven and you talked just like a lady. Your grandmother Sahba had come out of prison six months earlier. It was a troubled time, but despite our pain all of us still had a happiness in our heart.

You may ask why we – and so many others – have been punished like this? It is because we are Baha’i, and we believe that God created all people equal regardless of their race or sex or background. For this, the Iranian government seeks to deny our right to exist.

Let me share with you what led to my arrest.

For a couple of months, a friend and I visited Afghan children, refugees, in a village not all that far from our home. They live and work in very bad conditions, almost modern slavery, as do their family members, children and adults. They have to go into these very, very hot structures built partly underground where they make bricks. It’s an unhealthy and unsafe situation. Most of them don’t have enough food or clothes or shoes. It can be dangerous for a child to walk a long way in the desert, so my friend and I picked them up at their homes in our car and drove them to school. We would also bring them books and help them with their studies.

And then all of a sudden, government intelligence officers came to our houses and arrested me and my friend.

Because I cared for these children in need – and clearly because I am a Baha’i – I was convicted by the Semnan Revolutionary Court of “forming groups to act against national security” “educational activities and propagating against Sharia Islam,” and “propaganda against the regime.”

When we were arrested, government officials would say, “You went there not to help the children, but to convert them and their families to become Baha’is.” But we never talked about religion. They even don’t know we are Baha’is!

The interrogators would also ask, “Why do you have Muslim friends? Why do they come to your house? Why do you go to theirs?” I would say, “I live in a Muslim country, so I have Muslim friends. What is wrong with that?”

One of my Muslim friends said to them, “I believe in Mohammad, I believe in Islam, and I know good people who are Baha’i. Why you are not confident about my faith? Why are you worried?”

The jailers think that prison will make me change my religion. Of course not. It makes my faith stronger. I have a very precious thing in my heart, so why would I give that up? I hope that you, Setare and Shakib, will feel the same regardless of the challenges you face.

Iran is a very beautiful country. Iranians have a lot of abilities, the nature is wonderful, and we share a great history. I am sure we will have a bright future, if we can respect each other.

I learned from your grandmother how to be brave, how to be patient, how to be steadfast, and how to think about the needs of others.

Sometimes my tears come, but I know that’s not good. I don’t want to show them to anyone except your father. I want to laugh and smile and give energy to you, my family, and my friends. I do have a sureness about what I’m doing, but of course I’m sad because I will miss you all so much.

You are and will be in my mind and in my heart all the time. You should know that I love you and I am so proud of you! Never forget! Promise me that when I come home, you will still be my daughter and my son.

All my love from your mother,
Anisa
Anisa Fanaeian
Semnan, Iran

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