“Resist” and the weight of timing

I wrote the lyrics for “Resist” in 2022, in the wake of Jina Mahsa Amini’s death in custody and the shock that rippled far beyond Iran. Back then, the words came from a place that was equal parts anger and helplessness. Watching people demand basic dignity, and watching a regime answer with brutality, leaves a mark. It certainly left one on me.

Now the song is being released at a time where protests in Iran have resurfaced and the atmosphere feels painfully familiar again. I want to be transparent about the timing: that overlap is coincidental. I did not plan it, and I am not trying to ride a wave of tragedy. But I also do not want to hide behind coincidence.

Solidarity, without turning suffering into content

I want to express my support for everyone in Iran (and beyond) who is fighting for a life without fear. For the right to move freely, speak freely, and exist without intimidation. For a future where dignity is not something that has to be begged for, or paid for with blood.

At the same time, I need to draw a clear line. I do not want to profit from a country’s pain, from the dead, or from the grief of families. This is not a promotional angle. It is not a “perfect moment” to post. It is not a marketing hook.

It is simply the reality that art sometimes collides with the present, even when it was written in the past.

Why the animated short film is set in Iran

The animated short film (which was created more than a year ago) is set in Iran because the events of 2022 were part of the spark that made me write. I did not want the visuals to be abstract or generic. I wanted them to feel grounded, because the violence, the courage, and the losses were real.

But the lyrics were never meant to be limited to one country.

Iran is not the only place where women have to live under patriarchal control. Sometimes oppression is enforced openly through law, through morality policing, through the threat of imprisonment. Sometimes it is quieter, hidden in “tradition,” in social pressure, in harassment that is treated like background noise, in systems that constantly teach women to shrink themselves. Sometimes it is so normalized that people stop naming it, because naming it would mean admitting how much of daily life is built on it.

So yes, the film is anchored in Iran. The song itself is about something broader.

What “Resist” is really about

At its core, “Resist” is about the mechanism of oppression, not the flag above it.
It is about how fear is used as a method. How violence does not only target bodies, but also imagination. How regimes and systems try to make people feel isolated, watched, replaceable. How they turn solidarity into a risk, and truth into something you are expected to negotiate.

And it is about the moment where you refuse to internalize that fear. Not everyone can protest openly. Not everyone can speak safely. Not everyone can put their face to a statement and keep their life intact. That is true everywhere, and in Iran it is often brutally true. Resistance is not one single act. Sometimes it is a public roar. Sometimes it is private stubbornness. Sometimes it is survival.

This is why the song is not a set of instructions, and it is not me pretending I can speak for anyone. It is me taking a stance against a world in which women’s rights are treated like a conditional privilege, and in which control is defended as “order.”

How I hope the film is received

If you watch the animated short film, I hope you do it with the right mindset.
Not as entertainment that borrows pain for intensity. Not as a dramatic backdrop. But as a reminder that comfort and terror can be separated by nothing but geography and luck, and that the people living through repression are not symbols. They are human beings.

I also hope it makes one thing harder to do: looking away.