Nilo Tabrizy

Two voices and reporting lives, over determined by borders, and the challenges of covering their country.

I wrote this essay with Matin, my friend in Iran. They are a local journalist who often helps me with my reporting. By focusing on the November 2019 protests and the US killing Maj. Gen. Qassim Soleimani, we wrote about what it’s been like for each of us to cover Iran. Each of us experienced different challenges of censorship, information verification and personal security. This essay was published online in n+1 magazine. Below is a short excerpt.

***

I WAS DESPERATELY trying to get a hold of Matin. Some of their friends had been detained or arrested during the protests in Iran. I worried the government had come for them, too.  

 After days of unanswered messages, Matin finally responded to me through an encrypted messaging app. Their messages came in quickly, one after another.  

 It’s as if we’re dead. 

The internet crackdown and horror are terrible. 

We don’t matter to the world. We don’t matter to anyone. 

I feel like I can’t breathe. 

I’ve never experienced this kind of censorship. 

Write these down if you care about us. 

Then please delete these chats. 

I met Matin in 2018 when they were in the United States. They’re a young reporter who has written for some of the most prominent newspapers in Iran. Normally I would describe them to you—the color of their hair, their outfit, where we met, what they were doing in America—but I have to keep all these details to myself to protect them, even their gender. When I approached Matin about writing a piece together, we had to come up with a highly secure way to communicate. And I have to keep that secret too. 

When I finally got a hold of them it was a week into the deadliest protests in the Islamic Republic’s forty-year history. The country was on day six of a near-total internet blackout, which would remain in force for ten days. I couldn’t just pick up the phone and call them, on account of the very rational fear of bugged landlines. Even during the best of times, Iranians aren’t comfortable saying anything on a regular phone call. The only safe way to talk about sensitive political topics is on encrypted apps, and even then most proceed with caution.  

Since I’ve known Matin, they’ve been an incredible reporting partner. They’re always my first call when I’m looking into stories about Iran. To them, nothing is more important than getting the story of Iran right. We’re the same age, in the same profession, from the same misunderstood country—they’re my twin flame. That’s how I see them: my mirror, my double, another version of me. They’re living a life I might have lived—maybe the version I should have.