Matin Nasri

Matin Nasri (January 24, 2003 – November 9, 2022)

I was born on January 24, 2003in Sanandaj, where I spent my entire life. I was only nineteen years old. My family meant everything to me. I loved my parents deeply, and nothing brought me greater joy than spending time with my young nieces and nephews. I also had a younger sister, Maedeh, and we shared a bond filled with love and affection. I often missed my grandfather, who had always been my companion on so many memorable journeys.
In July 2022, shortly after graduating from high school, I was called up for compulsory military service. With a heavy heart, I left my hometown and traveled to Mashhad to report to my assigned military base. Leaving my family and everyone I loved behind was one of the hardest things I had ever done, but I had no choice. Only a few weeks into my service, the nationwide protests erupted following the death of Mahsa Amini. The movement that had begun in Kurdistan quickly spread across the country, reaching Mashhad. Every day I followed the demonstrations, the chants, and the reports of violent crackdowns. The killing of seventeen-year-old Abolfazl Adinehzadeh in Mashhad deeply affected me.
During those days, I regularly shared my thoughts and feelings about the protests on my Instagram page. Like countless other young people, I dreamed of a day when my country would know freedom, justice, and peace. Before my own fate was sealed, I wrote these words on my social media page:
"God, the patience You gave me is no match for the pain You gave me."
In November 2022, when the protests had entered their sixth week, the commander of our military base announced that we would be deployed to suppress the demonstrators. In that moment, I made a decision that would change the course of my life forever. I told myself:
"I would rather die than raise a weapon against my own people."
I refused to obey the order. That same night, I left the military base and returned to Kurdistan. I knew I would be hunted, so I did not go home. Instead, I hid in another location. But eventually, I was found and arrested on November 9, 2022.
According to my family, I was subjected to severe torture after my arrest and died as a result of it. My body was later taken to a hospital, where my father was reportedly pressured to state that I had died of a heart attack before my body would be released. My family was also offered the opportunity to have me officially recognized as a government "martyr," but they firmly refused.
On the morning of November 9, 2022, my body was buried under heavy security in Section 12 of Behesht-e Mohammadi Cemetery in Sanandaj, without any public funeral or memorial ceremony.
A few days later, people gathered at my grave for the seventh-day memorial. During the ceremony, the circumstances surrounding my death became widely known, and mourners chanted slogans demanding justice and condemning those they believed were responsible. Despite intense pressure from the security forces, my family continued to seek accountability. A large crowd also attended my fortieth-day memorial. Later, my father was arrested for pursuing justice and was sentenced by a court before eventually being released on bail.
I was just one of thousands of young people in my country. I believed that human dignity is worth more than obeying an order that violates one's conscience. I chose to remain true to my beliefs, even if the price was my own life.
If my story is remembered, I hope it will not be seen merely as the story of a nineteen-year-old whose life ended too soon. I hope it will stand as a reminder that there are moments when a person may lose everything rather than betray their conscience—and that some choices, though made in a single moment, echo throughout history.