After a January crackdown in Iran killed thousands of demonstrators, Iranian Americans in the United States are arriving at Nowruz, the Persian new year, with traditions that carry both mourning and resolve. For some, the holiday is being observed with candles, memorial walls and quieter gatherings instead of the large parties usually associated with the spring equinox.
In Los Angeles, Shima Razavi Gacek said she did not want to host her usual annual house party with a roaring bonfire ahead of Nowruz. Instead, she organized a vigil Tuesday night at a local park where the photos of slain protesters were displayed, and where dozens of Iranian Americans lit candles and took turns hopping over tea lights as part of Chaharshanbe Suri, a fire-jumping tradition. Razavi Gacek, who has lived in the United States since she was 5, said, “It is such a beautiful and joyous time of year,” and added, “This year, it’s not, but we need our community more than ever.”
Nowruz is celebrated from Afghanistan to Turkey and is rooted in Zoroastrian tradition, but it also brings together Iranians of diverse religious faiths. In the United States, Iranian Americans are marking the holiday in cities including Los Angeles and Nashville, where the largest Kurdish community in the country is based. The celebration this year comes less than a month after U.S. and Israeli forces attacked Iran, killing Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, with conflict spreading across the region.
Many communities canceled planned Nowruz parties and events following the crackdown. In New York, a group of elderly Iranian American women called off its celebration that the group hosts at a suburban shopping mall 25 miles (40 kilometers) outside Manhattan. Marjan Khalili, president of the Long Island Ladies Association, said, “People are not in the mood to celebrate the New Year,” and added, “That’s what Nowruz is — we welcome the New Year, and now we really don’t have much to welcome, you know?”
In Southern California, the Orange County Iranian American Chamber of Commerce scratched plans for its annual party and instead teamed up with a mental health clinic to provide support for people dealing with stress of the war and difficulty communicating with family in Iran. Shani Moslehi, the chamber’s chief executive, said, “Everyone I hear from is not doing well,” and described how, for people she spoke with, “The dancing and singing lasted a day, and people realized just killing that one guy is not going to solve the problem.”
Some groups said they felt compelled to continue Nowruz traditions, but adjusted them to fit the moment. At New York University, the student-run Persian Cultural Society held a vigil with speeches and poems in place of its annual celebration and asked attendees to dress in black rather than the festive colors normally favored during the holiday. In Los Angeles, organizers called off an outdoor festival that typically draws thousands and held a concert titled “Light Always Prevails,” featuring an Iranian female vocalist barred from singing after the 1979 Islamic Revolution and an Iranian-American performing in Persian for the first time, said Shahab Paranj, artistic director of the Iranshahr Orchestra.
Other organizers framed the holiday as a form of cultural defiance. Hedi Yousefi, who organized the Pomexpo Norooz Bazaar in Manhattan and displayed a memorial wall listing the names of some 3,000 people killed in January, said, “They want us to be quiet. They want us to shut up and don’t talk and celebrate,” and added, “But we have to talk about our culture, we have to keep our tradition alive.”
In the Nashville area, where the Kurdish community includes people with roots across Iran, Iraq, Syria and Turkey, organizers said they planned an event to show solidarity across the war-torn region. Tabeer Taabur, president of the Tennessee Kurdish Community Council, said, “It’s not going to be a grief celebration or a sad celebration,” reflecting an intent to emphasize support rather than only mourning.
At the park gathering in Los Angeles, dozens of people shared dinner at picnic tables covered with white tablecloths, and the event displayed sprouts, fruit and flowers, marking the season’s renewal. Participants also took turns hopping over small fires burning in tins as part of the Chaharshanbe Suri tradition. Mojan Gabbay, 50, lit a candle at the table honoring Iranian demonstrators and then hopped over an aluminum pan filled with burning tree bark, smiling as she spoke about why she chose to continue the ritual for her two children. “I wanted my kids to know where their roots are from and everything that’s going on has really touched our hearts,” Gabbay said, holding back tears. “These are your people and when you hear their pain and when you see their suffering, you feel it.”