formerly known as
Womens Liberation Front


Welcome to, formerly known as.Womens Liberation Front.  A website that hopes to draw and keeps your attention for  both the global 21th. century 3rd. feminist revolution as well and a selection of special feminist artists and writers.

This online magazine will be published evey month or if needed more often and started February 2019. Thank you for your time and interest.

Gino d'Artali
indept investigative journalist,
radical feminist and activist








                                                                                                            CRYFREEDOM 2019/2020

The face of Iran's protests. Her life, her dreams and her death.

In memory of Jina 'Mahsa' Amini, the cornerstone of the 'Zan. Zendagi. Azadi revolution.
16 February 2023 | By Gino d'Artali

And also
Read all about the assasination of the 22 year young Jhina Mahsa Amini or Zhina Mahsa Amini (Kurdistan-Iran) and the start of the Zan, Zendagi, Azadi (Women, life, freedom) revolution in Iran  2022
and the latest news about the 'Women Live Freedom' Revolution per month in 2023: 
September 30 - 16 -- September 17 - 1 -- August 31 - 18 -- August 15 - 1-- July 31 - 16 --July 15 -1--June 30 - 15--June 15-1--May 31 -16-- May 15-1--April--March--Feb--Jan
For all topics below that may hopefully interest you click on the image:
all updates September 21, 2023


Updated September 27, 2023


Updated September 6, 2023


Updated September 19, 2023   



Updated September 21, 2023


 Updated September 6, 2023 


TORTURED (to death)    



Recent update June 27, 2023
(including an April 2023 report)
9 - 4 May 2023

3 May - 28 April 2023
26 -21 April 2023
- 17 April 2023
16 - 8 April 2023
 6 - 4 April 2023

28 - 13 March 2023
16 - 13 March 2023
10 - 6 March 2023

Part 13 - September 21 - 8, 2023
The cruelty of the mercenaries goes on...
and others shoes ... and more cruel stories
Part 12 - July 17, 2023
'No remorse' Protester Vahed: <I may have lost one eye, but the bereaved mothers should have the final say about the attacker and his fellow aggressors.> 

BLINDED Part 11 - June 29 - 13, 2023 
BLINDED Part 10 - may-march-2023 
BLINDED Part 9 -mei-april-2023-various-crimes.htm
BLINDED (Part 8  25-17 April 2023 and 23 February 2023)

BLINDED Part 7 - 12 April 2023
BLINDED (Part 6 - 5 April 2023
BLINDED (Part 5 - 7 February 2023-
 'Eye of the dragon'

BLINDED (Part 4 - 28 - 20 March 2023)
BLINDED (Part 3 - 17 - 13 March and 17 February  2023)
BLINDED (Part 2 - 10 - 3 March and 17 January 2023)
BLINDED (Part 1 - 27 -18 February 2023)

<Persian social media is full of young people who say they were shot in the eye by security forces>

UPDATES September 21 - 8, 2023
'The cruelty of the mercenaries goes on'

Iranwire - September 21, 2023 - By AIDA GHAJAR
<<Special Report: The Islamic Republic's Use of Blinding as a Weapon of War Against Protesters
It has been almost six months since Iran's nationwide protests began, triggered by the death of Mahsa Amini, who died while in the custody of the country's morality policy. IranWire has in that time identified more than 50 protesters who have suffered serious injuries to their eyes - and in many cases, blinded - because of the violent tactics used by Iranian security forces in their attempts to suppress popular demonstrations in favor of womenís rights and against the Iranian government. Our investigations will carry on after this report is published, of course, and IranWire will continue to gather evidence and to document this crime. The effort to find the victims, or to put it more accurately, the survivors of this violent and widespread crackdown on the 2022 and 2023 protests, started months ago. Beyond those survivors who have shared the stories of their injuries on social media, there is a larger group, in more remote parts of Iran, who remain unknown either because of threats to their safety or for personal or family reasons. Many others among the injured are unwilling to disclose their identities because they are afraid of retaliation by the security forces. Several are from underprivileged groups in Iran and live under various forms of political and social deprivation and discrimination - they cannot afford modern means of communication. IranWire nevertheless works to reach Iranians who do not have smartphones although this does take more time.
Several victims provided their medical records to IranWire and the doctors and lawyers consulting with us. The records must, of course, be kept confidential. One of the goals of Iranian security services, when they indiscriminately and deliberately shoot at the eyes of protesters, must be to teach a lesson to others; to intimidate and terrorize, so that they might not take to the street or demand liberty and human rights. But dozens of protesters who were shot because they were at the forefront of demonstrations have not hesitated: they have come forward to tell the public their stories and to show photographs of the injuries to their eyes and other parts of their bodies. At the time of writing, at least 500 protesters have been killed and at least 580 have lost one or both eyes. According to doctors and psychologists, losing an eye is one of the most traumatic experiences a person can have, like learning that one has cancer. Knowing this can help us feel a stronger sense of empathy with this group of fighters in the <Woman, Life, Freedom> uprising. They experience this trauma again and again, each morning, when they open their eyes or whenever they look in a mirror.The following is our first report on this horrifying tragedy that, either alone or with subsequent reports, can be presented as evidence at international criminal tribunals. But even as we work to document these facts, so that they will not be forgotten, we are also thinking about how to prevent such outrages from happening again in the future. Who are the real culprits in this tragedy? And what role do the manufacturers of the weapons used to blind protesters play in the overall effort to suppress protests? In preparing this report, we consulted with Katherine Heinet, Omid Shams, a group of doctors including Dr. Rouzbeh Esfandiari, Dr. David Khorram and others who shall remain anonymous, the international lawyer Dr. Payam Akhavan and a group of Iranian, British and French lawyers, and also several Iranian and French sociologists. We give each of them our special thanks and we remain committed to working together. The report will updated every Sunday with new case studies and stories of survivors. You can download the report by clicking on this link - Report (PDF):

Iranwire - September 14, 2023 - by AIDA GHAJAR
<<Blinding as a Weapon: Erfan, Three Bullets Flashing, Complete Darkness
As IranWire has reported, hundreds of Iranians have sustained severe eye injuries after being hit by pellets, tear gas cannisters, paintball bullets or other projectiles used by security forces amid a bloody crackdown on mainly peaceful demonstrations. Doctors say that, as of now, at least 580 protesters have lost one or both eyes in Tehran and in Kurdistan alone. But the actual numbers across the country are much higher.
The report concluded that such actions by the security forces could constitute a <crime against humanity,> as defined by Article 7 of the Rome Statute. In this series of reports, IranWire presents the victims' stories told in their own words. Some have posted their stories, along with their names and pictures, on social media. Others, whose real names shall not be disclosed to protect their safety, have told their stories to IranWire. IranWire can make their identities and medical situations available to international legal authorities.
In my search for victims who lost their eyes, I traveled to the German city of Mainz, where I was introduced to Erfan Ramizipour, who was a 19-year-old student when the nationwide protests erupted last year. On November 16, he was participating in a protest when he was targeted with a laser. Three shots echoed through the air, and Erfan collapsed to the ground.
Erfan was only a few months older than my own son, and there he was with an eyepatch, about to recount the moment he lost one of his eyes. We went to the library of the Maltzer non-profit foundation in Mainz to meet with Erfan. The day before, I interviewed Milad Safari, and we recorded several other interviews too. I had made several attempts to reach out to Erfan while he was in Iran, but he was preparing to leave the country.
Now, I was eager to convey to him that I never stopped listening to his story, and I was ready to hear it in full. Upon his arrival at the Maltzer non-profit foundation, I introduced myself, and we shared a moment of laughter. However, it wasn't until he disclosed the year of his birth that I truly saw him for who he was. It felt as if my own son was standing in front of me and I was transported back to Iran, where countless eyes have been blinded by the actions of the Islamic Republic. As our video team was preparing to film the interview, we delved into the subject of people who suffered eye injuries. We recounted stories of friendships forged under dire circumstances. We named those who had been threatened, imprisoned or forcibly expelled. As we strolled around the courtyard of the foundation, I found myself wondering, <If your son came to you with a bloodied face and in excruciating pain, how would you feel?>
Laser, Gunfire and the Shroud of Darkness
We sat hunched over the laptop, whose screen was displaying a compilation of videos. It encompassed everything, from footage chronicling the inception of the protests to motorcycle-mounted agents patrolling the streets, identifying targets, and discharging ominous green lasers at windows or protesters. In one video, a green laser ominously settled upon a building's window. At that moment, our thoughts converged on Benita, a six-year-old girl who was playing on an apartment balcony when her eyes were struck by pellets. We couldn't help but ponder what had befallen Benita's mother over the past year. Another video, captured on November 16, featured Erfan himself, standing alongside a car engulfed in flames.
He pointed to his image on the screen and said, <This is me.> The laser beam briefly danced through the smoke before it homed in on Erfan.
Three consecutive gunshots rang out, plunging everything into darkness. The video abruptly ended.
The succeeding images chronicled a journey of suffering and anguish.
Erfan's agonized moans echoed through the audio as a testament to the excruciating pain emanating from his eyes. Someone could be seen extracting a pellet from his hand. Erfan's head, neck and upper chest had been struck. Another pellet that pierced his forearm was set to be removed the day after our meeting.
In the Wake of Mahsa's Tragic Death
Mahsa Amini was a 22-year-old woman much like any other, someone who could have been me, my sister or your sister at the same age. This might explain why so many young people took to the streets despite the risk of being killed, blinded or incarcerated. One of those young men who could have easily been my own son was seated in front of me. Erfan recounted the moment when he heard about the devastating news of Mahsa's death. He was in the Persian Gulf city of Bandar Abbas. <After receiving the news of Mahsa Amini's death, we banded together with our neighbors and fellow students. We divided responsibilities among ourselves as we planned activities such as distributing leaflets and crafting slogans during the day and organized street protests,> he said. In the wake of Amini's death, student organizations kept protesting for months. Local committees were established and scattered gatherings continued in various neighborhoods. However, the Islamic Republic was determined to suppress dissent, resorting to killing, arresting and blinding protesters in the streets and intensifying repression within the confines of prisons through torture and hefty punishments, including executions.
When Erfan found himself shot, he told himself, <Erfan, you're done.>
There were two possibilities: either succumb to death or fall into the clutches of the security agents. His strength resided in his friends. He sensed that he was not alone, that none of them were alone; they stood together, supporting one another.
Treated at Home
Picture this: Your child has been struck by a shotgun blast, riddled with pellets in the face, eyes, neck and shoulders. You witness his excruciating pain, knowing that immediate treatment at home is your only recourse. Erfan's eyes were bleeding, and concerned bystanders urgently summoned a nurse. This nurse discreetly entered through the back door of the house and found Erfan with 10-12 pellets lodged in his head. Lacking the necessary medical equipment and without using anesthesia, she extracted the pellets from his head.The following day, Erfan was finally admitted to the hospital. In the most nightmarish moment of his life, he saw <20-30 beds, each occupied by individuals with injuries to one or both of their eyes.>
To prevent further complications and potential loss of his eye, Erfan was transferred to Shiraz, though hopes of regaining his vision remained bleak.
His optic nerve was not irreparably damaged, leaving him with a faint perception of light. <When someone loses the most vital part of their body, a pervasive sense of disappointment and sorrow engulfs their being. But I have stated unequivocally that I shouldn't lament my fate. My eyes were meant to be this way,> Erfan said, adding, <I took to the streets for a cause I'm deeply proud of.>
<After the Operations I Stepped Into the Street>
As the surgeries came to an end, Erfan ventured out onto the street and interacted with the people around him. How could these strangers possibly know that this young man was one of these protesters who had passionately chanted slogans and organized rallies? Those protesters were the ones who, for Iranians residing far from their homeland, have been a source of inspiration. Erfan returned to Bandar Abbas with his blindfold and visited a friend who had also been shot. However, as he appeared on the street, individuals in plainclothes approached him, forced him to the ground and tried to restrain him by binding his hands behind his back. The intervention of courageous people present at the scene allowed Erfan to flee and take refuge under a hedge. His eyes were in agony. He eventually made his way back to Shiraz, fully aware that he risked being identified, which ultimately convinced him to leave the country. Irfan solemnly swore to remain committed to the memory of those who lost their lives or their eyes in the protests and to the tortured detainees. <As long as the Islamic Republic exists, not only my life but the lives of all Iranians are in danger,> he said. We concluded our encounter and the lights were turned off. We walked together for part of the way, discussing various topics but deliberately avoiding any mention of his eyes. Eventually, we shook hands and Erfan disappeared from my view. Yet, I couldn't forget his mother, a woman I had neither seen nor spoken to but whose story remained etched in my mind.>>

France 24 - September 14, 2023 - by Bahar Makooi
<<Repression in Iran: 'Whoever targeted my eye knew exactly who I was'
'The officer recognised my face in Tehran's Valiasr Square. I had noticed him over the past three days of demonstrations. On October 1, our eyes met and everything went black. He had shot me [with a rubber bullet] from three metres away. The man who shot me in the eye knew who I was. A few days after they killed Mahsa Amini, I saw demonstrators on Instagram going after the law enforcement officers that were mistreating them. They were resisting. That same evening I joined them in the square in Tehran. My friends and I gathered in groups of seven or eight, sometimes on motorbikes, to demonstrate together. But I was alone on October 1 when I was shot in the face. I spent two days in Farabi Hospital in Tehran. Part of my eye had exploded when I was hit and I had to undergo an emergency operation. I was still confined to bed when a nurse warned me the next day that two officers were talking about me in the lobby. They had come to arrest me. I hid in one of the consultation rooms, close to a corridor, and as soon as I could I left through the courtyard. A hospital security guard saw me, but he turned around. I don't know if he was too old to run after me or if he let me get away, in which case I thank him for it.
'Others have gone to the scaffold for less'
I stayed hidden for 12 days, then I flew out of Iran to Turkey with my eye still bandaged. I was so scared that I was going to be stopped at the airport, because I couldn't pass unnoticed with the bandage. I was relieved when the plane took off. I was right to be afraid, because I recently received a summons by email from the justice ministry saying that I had to appear before a judge. I don't know exactly what reasons were given, but I know that my file is pretty thick because I've protested a lot, and I've been speaking my mind for a long time. They could have sentenced me to death. Others have gone to the scaffold for less. I soon began to speak out about what had happened to me. I shared a video of my face on Instagram. I received a lot of messages from other demonstrators who had suffered the same thing. At that time, very few people dared to talk about it publicly. Pictures of young people who had been hit in the eyes by projectiles like I was later started to make the rounds on social media. And there are still others who have come forward recently.
'I'm doing it for the next generation'
I knew that the authorities had me in their sights. I had already received threatening text messages from the ministry of intelligence warning me not to commit the same offences again, especially because I had shared a GIF making fun of [Iran's Supreme Leader] Ali Khamenei in private chats. I have never censored myself, either on Instagram or on Facebook. I don't believe in their religion; I want to be free to choose. For me, sharing and communicating with other people is vital so that people know what horrors the Islamic Republic is subjecting us to. I have been demonstrating since 2009 (when protests erupted after the disputed re-election of president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad) and I protested again in 2017 (against the economic hardships and the regime) and in 2019 (against both rising prices and the hardline regime). I'm not even doing it for myself. For me it's too late, I'm 31 years old. I'm doing it for the next generation, so that they can live freely and enjoy this country's potential, so that no more young people have to leave Iran. I was working as a consultant in exports and strategy management for a number of companies in Tehran. I made a pretty good living. I spent weekends with friends by the Caspian Sea or winters on Kish Island (in the Persian Gulf). I loved Iran - I was one of the few members of my family who was still living there. It's a wonderful country that the government has turned into a polluted prison.
'My left eye will never see again'
Today I live at a refugee centre in Germany; I'm just a migrant. I arrived here at the end of July. I sent visa requests to a few different European countries and Germany was the first to get back to me. I had to get out of Turkey as quickly as possible because I didn't feel safe there. Iran's intelligence services have a long reach. Nobody was supposed to know where I was living, but I received photographs of my building warning me that I had been tracked down. I left my whole life behind in Iran. I left with a single T-shirt. I'm going to have to start again from scratch and get used to my new face. But here, I can get care. I consulted a specialist, but unfortunately he told me that my left eye will never see again. When I was shot, my zygomatic bone (cheekbone) was also broken. I'm going to have tests done to see if I need an operation. Despite everything, I'm not one to complain. I left the country easily enough and here I can start to have a normal life without fearing for my safety. After I left, some of my close friends were arrested. A few of them were physically tortured. And they were interrogated about my case. One of them just arrived in Germany as well. He didn't get a visa, so he came by land, undocumented. On the way, he was stuck without food or water for five days in a forest in Poland. I can't wait to see him again. We have a lot to talk about.
This article has been translated from the original in French.>>

Iranwire - September 8, 2023 - by AIDA GHAJAR
<<Blinding as a Weapon: Laser Light, Gunshots and a Lost Eye
As IranWire has reported, hundreds of Iranians have sustained severe eye injuries after being hit by pellets, tear gas cannisters, paintball bullets or other projectiles used by security forces amid a bloody crackdown on mainly peaceful demonstrations. Doctors say that, as of now, at least 580 protesters have lost one or both eyes in Tehran and in Kurdistan alone. But the actual numbers across the country are much higher. The report concluded that such actions by the security forces could constitute a <crime against humanity,> as defined by Article 7 of the Rome Statute.
In this series of reports, IranWire presents the victims' stories told in their own words. Some have posted their stories, along with their names and pictures, on social media. Others, whose real names shall not be disclosed to protect their safety, have told their stories to IranWire. IranWire can make their identities and medical situations available to international legal authorities.

Among them is Milad Safari, a father of two, who lost his sight after being wounded during the upheaval. Safari chose to leave Iran for the city of Mainz in Germany - where he hoped to find a brighter future. We have just arrived in Mainz and are preparing to film our interview with Safari. In the courtyard of the Maltzer non-profit foundation, overseen by Behrooz Asadi, a political and civil activist, we meet him. While we are adjusting lights and setting up the shot, he enters and collapses on to a sofa, engrossed in his phone. He is mourning a close friend whom he lost just hours earlier. But he also smiles, though it is perhaps a bitter smile, when his family calls. I approach Safari as he cradles his head in his hands and sit beside him. A shared smile bridges the gap between us, and I peer into his eyes, uncertain of how much he can perceive with the wounded one.
<Why not shield your eyes to prevent further harm?> I ask.
Safari says, <Since the beginning, my children disliked seeing me wear blindfolds. I don't use them. Instead, I wear a pair of sunglasses whenever there's too much light and wind.> A father of two, Safari has been following their well-being day and night through the virtual window of his phone.
Yet, during his time in Iran, Safari admits to being more of a father in image than in reality. He says he managed to spend a mere day and a half with his children each week. His routine involved commuting between Kermanshah and Tehran, a distance of more than 500 km, arriving in Kermanshah on Wednesday nights and departing for Tehran on Friday evenings. Similar to numerous Iranian Kurds, Safari's employment prospects in his hometown were limited. He and his family were therefore left with only one and a half days together each week. The remainder of his time was spent as a laborer in an unfamiliar city. It was close to this city, Tehran, that he found himself amid the protests. A laser targeted his face during the protest and the result was the loss of one of his eyes. It was September 22 - the sixth night of the protests. On his nights in Tehran, Safari went to his sister's home in Mehrshahr, Karaj, near the capital, to spend the night. But that night was different. He joined the protests accompanied by a friend. The Chahar-Bandeh area of Tehran, characterized by its four lanes, central boulevard, and a tree, was thronged with people. Safari, not one to remain passive, urged people near him not to relent. Tear gas was fired by the police at the demonstrators. Disguised motorcyclists emerged from the rear to suppress the crowd. Safari moved toward the sidewalk, seeking shelter, when a green laser pointed at his face. He had been singled out. He shielded his eyes from the laser as the sound of pellet shots rang out. The echoes of pellets striking the closed shutters of the shop behind Milad still linger in his memory. Two pellets pierced his eye. One was later removed - leaving five still embedded in his body. A pellet remains lodged in his fingertip and Safari extends his hand to the camera, inviting me, <Feel it.> My fingers touch the metal fragments within the flesh of his finger. I go back behind the camera. <I take pride in it. I took to the streets for my convictions, and regardless of the consequences, it no longer matters,> Safari says. In the nights before the one that robbed him of his sight, Safari had written a will. Speaking on Instagram with a friend, he had said, <I'll be on the streets tomorrow. If I don't return, please take care of my family.>
But he had never imagined that the riot squad's intention was to blind him.
Safari underwent three surgeries on his eye. He removes his glasses, revealing the stitches. And as he tells his story, there's a simmering undercurrent of frustration and impatience, particularly when he mentions his mother. Safari held back the truth about his injured eye from his family until after the second surgery. Conflicting reports had reached his father and the two arranged to meet at a park near their home. When he saw his sonís bandaged head and eyes, the father's legs gave way, and he collapsed on to a park bench. Father and son embraced, tears mingling in their shared sorrow, their grief intertwining as they held each other.
And he had yet to break the news to his mother. Safari remembers this episode with a mixture of anger and emotion. <My mother is an incredibly caring person,> he says. When she saw her son, her strength faltered, and she fainted and crumpled to the ground. Safari also dwells on his children - remembering that he once purchased a toy gun for one of them. While playing, the young boy, wielding his plastic gun, approached his father and said, <Daddy, cover your eye so I can shoot.> Safari says, <It's striking that even a four-year-old understands the significance of protecting one's eyes from harm, while those who caused this damage failed to grasp it.> When he left Iran, Safari had to cross borders and travel across countries illegally, until he reached Germany. Speaking with his children became a source of strength and propelled him on. <The Iranian people have reached an impasse,> Safari tells me. <Place yourself in Mahsa's family's shoes. You'd have taken to the streets. What if this had happened to my own sister?>
He says, <Hatred defines the Islamic Republic for me.>
Safari's life as a Kurdish Iranian, a migrant laborer within his own country, earns too little to afford a decent life for his wife and children or even a modest home where they can live together. And seeing his children beyond just photographs will elude him for years. The interview ends with Safari reflecting on the rights women enjoy in Germany. Why does the Islamic Republic subject women in Iran to such violence? We switch the camera off and part ways. Safari rises and heads to the courtyard. We discuss the future. He needs to learn German and find a job so that he can bring his family - to embrace his children as a father. The Islamic Republic injures not only those in its prisons, or on the streets of Iran, but even people far away in small towns around the world.>>

copyright Womens' Liberation Front 2019/ 2023