Photo of an Iranian family of three with an X-ray image of the mother's arm

Sima Moradbeigi with her husband and daughter at their home in Iraqi Kurdistan; Moradbeigi’s X-ray (inset) shows her arm injury from pellets
shot at her during a protest. Emily Garthwaite/The New York Times

Choosing Exile

Fed up with Iran’s authoritarian government, some Iranian mothers are fleeing their country for the sake of their daughters’ futures. Here’s one of their stories.

December 11, 2023

By Cora Engelbrecht

One rainy evening last spring, a young Iranian mother with a mangled arm, her husband, and their 3-year-old daughter met a smuggler near Iran’s border with Iraq. He delivered a stern ultimatum: Keep the child quiet or leave her behind.

The mother, Sima Moradbeigi (see-ma mor-ahd-bahg-ee), 26, ran to a pharmacy for a bottle of cough syrup to drug her daughter, Juan, into a stupor.

Under the cover of night, the family followed the smuggler along mountain paths, sometimes crawling through muddy scrubland to avoid Iranian border guards with flashlights. Hours later, Moradbeigi and her husband say, they arrived safely at a mosque outside the city of Sulaimaniya in Iraq’s northern Kurdistan region.

The cough syrup had worked. Juan barely stirred throughout their harrowing journey.

Moradbeigi is part of a group of Iranian mothers who’ve concluded they need to flee Iran to spare their daughters from a lifetime under the authoritarian regime. A number of these women spoke with The New York Times about their escapes to Iraq and other nearby countries. This is Moradbeigi’s story.

The mother, Sima Moradbeigi (see-ma mor-ahd-bahg-ee), 26, ran to a pharmacy. She bought a bottle of cough syrup to drug her daughter, Juan, into a stupor.

Under the cover of night, the family followed the smuggler along mountain paths. Sometimes they had to crawl through muddy scrubland to avoid Iranian border guards. Hours later, they arrived safely at a mosque outside the city of Sulaimaniya in Iraq’s northern Kurdistan region.

The cough syrup had worked. Juan barely stirred throughout their harrowing journey.

Moradbeigi is part of a group of Iranian mothers who’ve concluded they need to flee Iran. They want to spare their daughters from a lifetime under the authoritarian regime. A number of these women spoke with The New York Times about their escapes to Iraq and other nearby countries. This is Moradbeigi’s story.

Rigid Social Rules

Frustration has been brewing in Iran for decades. It’s been 44 years since the 1979 Islamic revolution, in which radical Shiite Muslims overthrew Iran’s monarchy and imposed strict Islamic rule on what had been a Western-leaning country.

Iran does hold elections, but real power is wielded not by the elected parliament or the president, but by the country’s religious leaders, who try to enforce rigid social rules. Mingling between men and women is officially restricted, women must veil themselves in public, and most Western films and music are banned.

Frustration has been brewing in Iran for decades. It’s been 44 years since the 1979 Islamic revolution. During the revolution, radical Shiite Muslims overthrew Iran’s monarchy. They imposed strict Islamic rule on what had been a Western-leaning country.

Iran does hold elections. But the real power is wielded not by the elected parliament or the president. Iran is controlled by the country’s religious leaders, who try to enforce rigid social rules. Mingling between men and women is officially restricted. Women must veil themselves in public. Most Western films and music are banned.

ZUMA Press, Inc./Alamy Stock Photo

Mahsa Amini

The Islamic Republic has never been hospitable to women who rebelled against its strict religious codes for dress and behavior. But the death last year of a 22-year-old woman, Mahsa Amini, while in custody of the religious police and the protest movement that followed have made life for Iranian women even harder.

Women played a central role in the months of antigovernment rallies after Amini’s death, demanding the end of authoritarian clerical rule. The government stamped out most of the protests, leaving hundreds dead, according to rights groups. In September, as the anniversary of Amini’s death approached, the government arrested a number of activists, students, and journalists.

The Islamic Republic has never been hospitable to women who rebelled against its strict religious codes for dress and behavior. Last year, a 22-year-old woman, Mahsa Amini, died while in custody of the religious police. Her death caused a protest movement that made life for Iranian women even harder.

Women played a central role in the months of antigovernment rallies after Amini’s death. They have been demanding the end of authoritarian clerical rule. The government stamped out most of the protests, leaving hundreds dead, according to rights groups. In September, as the anniversary of Amini’s death approached, the government arrested a number of activists, students, and journalists.

Spurred Into Action

Until Amini’s death, Moradbeigi had found happiness with her husband, Sina Jalali, a fabric shop owner, and their daughter. Amini, who was arrested by the religious police for wearing her head scarf improperly, had lived not far from Moradbeigi’s hometown of Bukan in Iran’s northwestern Kurdish region. Like Amini, Moradbeigi is part of Iran’s Kurdish minority, which faces discrimination and repression.

Until Amini’s death, Moradbeigi had found happiness with her husband, Sina Jalali, a fabric shop owner, and their daughter. Amini was arrested by the religious police for wearing her head scarf improperly. She had lived not far from Moradbeigi’s hometown of Bukan in Iran’s northwestern Kurdish region. Like Amini, Moradbeigi is part of Iran’s Kurdish minority, which faces discrimination and repression.

Sadegh Nikgostar ATPImages/Getty Images

Iran’s Supreme Leader Ali Hosseini Khamenei

Days after the protests began in September 2022, Moradbeigi says she walked outside gripping a head scarf, which she planned to burn on the streets as other women were doing. Before that moment, she hadn’t considered herself political.

But when Moradbeigi joined the protest that day in Bukan, she came under a hail of gunfire from a security officer, who shot her with dozens of metal pellets. X-rays of her injuries (see photo, above) show that the pellets had pulverized her right elbow bone.

“Every minute, I was seeing death before my eyes,” Moradbeigi says. “But my heart was with my daughter. I could not die and leave her under this corrupt regime.”

Doctors warned that her arm might need to be amputated unless she got an elbow replacement quickly. But the surgery was too complicated to undergo in Iran. And Moradbeigi feared her injury made her an easy mark for the police. She resolved to leave the country.

Days after the protests began in September 2022, Moradbeigi says she walked outside gripping a head scarf. She planned to burn it on the streets as other women were doing. Before that moment, she hadn’t considered herself political.

But when Moradbeigi joined the protest that day in Bukan, she came under a hail of gunfire from a security officer. She was shot with dozens of metal pellets. X-rays of her injuries (see photo, above) show that the pellets had pulverized her right elbow bone.

“Every minute, I was seeing death before my eyes,” Moradbeigi says. “But my heart was with my daughter. I could not die and leave her under this corrupt regime.”

Doctors warned that her arm might need to be amputated unless she got an elbow replacement quickly. But the surgery was too complicated to undergo in Iran. Moradbeigi feared her injury made her an easy mark for the police. She resolved to leave the country.

‘I would lose this arm rather than abandon my daughter to my government’s nightmare.’

Moradbeigi and her husband spent seven months in hiding as they struggled to find a smuggler to take them out of Iran. But over and over, they were told that taking a young child would be too dangerous because her cries could give them away.

In April, they finally got a call: For about $230, a smuggler agreed to arrange their escape. Within days, they sold everything they owned and left home with painkillers and $600 in cash.

The family is now living in Iraqi Kurdistan in a home supplied by an armed Iranian Kurdish opposition group based in that region. The group has helped Moradbeigi and about 70 other Iranian women like her escape since the protests began, according to members.

Moradbeigi and her husband spent seven months in hiding. They struggled to find a smuggler to take them out of Iran. Over and over, they were told that taking a young child would be too dangerous. They were afraid her cries could give them away.

In April, they finally got a call. For about $230, a smuggler agreed to arrange their escape. Within days, they sold everything they owned. They left home with painkillers and $600 in cash.

The family is now living in Iraqi Kurdistan. They live in a home supplied by an armed Iranian Kurdish opposition group based in that region. The group has helped Moradbeigi and about 70 other Iranian women like her escape since the protests began, according to members.

For Moradbeigi, her exile has turned into an excruciating race against time. The longer she delays treatment for her arm, the greater the risk she will lose it. She and her husband have spent the past months scrambling to reach a country where she can receive the surgery she needs, which is not available in Iraq.

Still, she insists it was all worth it.

“I would lose this arm,” she says, “rather than abandon my daughter to my government’s nightmare.”

For Moradbeigi, her exile has turned into a race against time. She needs treatment for her arm. The longer she waits, the greater the risk she will lose it. She and her husband have spent the past months scrambling to reach a country where she can receive the surgery she needs, which is not available in Iraq.

Still, she insists it was all worth it.

“I would lose this arm,” she says, “rather than abandon my daughter to my government’s nightmare.”