A recent letter shared by Issa Ebrahimzadeh, a Kurdish political prisoner who is currently on a brief medical leave from Naqadeh Central Prison where he is serving a five year sentence, sheds light on the cruelty and repression he and his family have endured for their peaceful rights activism in Iran. The letter, dated to April 2025, was shared by the Centre for Human Rights in Iran (CHRI) on 5 May.
Ebrahimzadeh is one of hundreds of political activists imprisoned in Iran for demanding workers’ and women’s rights and has been sentenced to five years for “membership in opposition groups” and “propaganda against the regime”. A recent report released by the CHRI to mark International Workers’ Day on 1 May states that over 2081 workers have died in Iran in the space of a year due to unsafe working conditions, and that at least 19 labour activists remain imprisoned, including Sharifeh Mohammadi, who is in grave danger of being hanged after being sentenced to death.
In the letter, Ebrahimzadeh, mourning the recent death of his infant son, condemns the Islamic Republic for what he describes as inhumane policies that prevented him from seeing his child one final time before his death. His brother, Behnam- also imprisoned for his human rights activism – was subjected to the same treatment a few years earlier, when his son Nima became ill and died while he was in prison.
Ebrahimzadeh emphasised that these cases amount to “state crimes” and extend beyond personal grief. “This is not just my story or Behnam’s story, but the story of thousands of families who have lost their loved ones over the years under the shadow of execution, imprisonment, poverty, and censorship,” he said.
The plight of Ebrahimzadeh and his family once again highlights the harsh repression faced by labour activists fighting against the oppression and exploitation of workers in Iran, particularly Iran’s minority Kurdish community.
Read the full letter below:
I, Issa Ebrahimzadeh, am a grieving father. A father who never even held the small, lifeless body of his child, Ariz, in his arms. A baby who hadn’t even finished learning to say ‘baba’ became a victim of the Islamic Republic’s inhumane policies. While I was in prison, my child died silently – helplessly, for no reason and without us even being allowed to say a final goodbye. This is not just a personal grief; this is a state crime.
And this is not the first wound. Years ago, the Islamic Republic imprisoned my brother, Behnam, for defending the rights of workers and children. During those same years, his son, Nima, fell ill and died—without being allowed even a moment with his father. Now the same pain, the same wound, has come for me. And we are still mourning under the same heavy boot.
Today, I remain imprisoned in Naghadeh Prison, with wounds on my body and soul. I suffer from shingles, gastrointestinal disease, physical pain, and lack of treatment. After much pressure and a hunger strike, I was transferred to a hospital for only two days, then returned without receiving care.
The temporary leave they granted me wasn’t out of humanity—it was out of fear of my contagious illness and the cost of treatment. And now even this leave is not being counted as part of my sentence. I am neither in prison nor free. Neither under treatment nor safe. I am simply abandoned—alone, ill, poor, and forgotten.
On the eve of International Workers’ Day, these pains and deaths must not only be remembered but transformed into a flag of resistance and solidarity. We workers in Iran face not only economic exploitation, but also political repression, imprisonment, torture, and death. This day is not one of celebration—it is a day of protest, a day of justice-seeking, a day to declare war on a regime that steals bread from our tables, children from our arms, and life from our bodies.
The Islamic Republic is not just killing us; it chains our fathers, drowns our mothers in grief, and leaves our children in unmarked graves without care. This regime seeks to silence us through physical, psychological, and economic torture. But it does not know: we will not be silent.
This is not just my story and Behnam’s. This is the story of thousands of families who, for years, under the shadow of execution, prison, poverty, and censorship, have lost their loved ones. We have the right to scream, to expose, and to demand the world not turn a blind eye to these atrocities. The blood of Ariz, Nima, and the fallen workers of Rajaei Shahr is on the hands of this child-killing, worker-crushing, anti-human regime.
I, as a father, a worker, a farmer, a political prisoner, and a human being, raise this cry to the world: We are alive, but in captivity. We are alive, but in mourning. And we will not be silent.
Until the day when no father mourns for demanding bread and freedom.
Long live International Workers’ Day!
Long live solidarity and class resistance!
Long live freedom!
Issa Ebrahimzadeh
April 2025
