This morning, as the United States launched strikes against targets inside my homeland of Iran, I wept to know my people were no longer standing alone.
Yet my phone filled with messages of concern: “I’m so sorry.” “I’m praying for your family.” “My thoughts are with you in this difficult time.”
I love that my friends understand this is personal, since my family story is tied to Iran. Yet I don’t think many people appreciate what this moment means for Iranians like me around the world.
In the hours since, I’ve seen prominent commentators and news outlets condemn the strikes as reckless or unlawful. I also understand that instinct. As a lawyer — and as someone who usually sees nuance in nearly every political question — I am rarely comfortable declaring anything morally simple.
But this moment feels unusually clear.
This is a historic moment for freedom, democracy, and human rights.
My mother was incarcerated by the Islamic Republic of Iran. Her crime was raising money to support democracy. I have slept in shared women’s prison quarters beside her. I have seen firsthand how that regime suppresses dissent, silences women, imprisons journalists, and crushes basic liberties. I do not romanticize it.
In recent months, enormous numbers of Iranians have risked everything in coordinated protests. Some estimates — including one attributed to European intelligence shared with a media outlet — put nationwide participation in the millions.
Many were beaten. Many were jailed. Many were killed.
I was heartbroken at the thought that the world might once again issue statements of concern while courageous young people were systematically crushed. I was haunted by the fear that their sacrifice would be in vain.
The history between the United States and Iran is complicated. In 1953, the U.S. intervened in Iran’s political affairs in ways that left deep and lasting resentment. The 1979 revolution, the hostage crisis, decades of sanctions, proxy conflicts, and nuclear brinkmanship layered grievance upon grievance.
But this is not 1953.
This is not a foreign power toppling a democratic reformer for economic advantage. This is a regime that has entrenched itself through repression at home and destabilization abroad.
Iran today is widely recognized as a leading state sponsor of terrorism across the globe, funding and arming proxy groups across the Middle East. Its support has fueled regional wars and civilian suffering far beyond its borders.
The regime has supplied weapons used in global conflicts and strengthened strategic ties with China and Russia — governments that openly challenge democratic norms and international stability.
Deterring aggression matters. And constraining a regime that exports violence is important. So is preventing the further entrenchment of an authoritarian bloc aligned with our most significant adversaries.
Iran is home to roughly 90 million people. These people should not be confused with their brutal rulers. They are students, engineers, artists, parents — many educated, globally connected, and yearning for self-determination. The Iranian diaspora spans the world, watching this moment with fear and hope intertwined.
I recognize the temptation to oppose anything associated with a polarizing president. Reflexive resistance has become a norm in American politics.
Yet weakening a regime that has brutalized its own people, funded international terrorism, destabilized an entire region, and aligned itself with hostile powers is a just cause.
Equally so, I feel gratitude that power, when it exists, can be used to defend the weak and weaponless. The young people who filled Iran’s streets did not carry arms. They carried hope.
The students who chanted for freedom did not have militias behind them. They had courage. There are moments in history when those who possess strength and arms stand behind those who do not. I am grateful for a military capable of deterring aggression and protecting the vulnerable when diplomacy has failed.
That does not make war simple. Civilian life must be protected with the utmost care. And military action carries grave risks. Diplomacy must remain open wherever possible. But there are moments when restraint becomes complicity — when failing to confront totalitarianism strengthens it.
An authoritarian regime that jails mothers, suppresses civic freedoms and religion, while indoctrinating children with chants of “Death to America,” cannot be treated as a neutral actor.
The protesters who filled Iran’s streets were not asking for chaos. They were begging for the international community to stand up for human rights.
And now, perhaps for the first time in a long time, they are not standing entirely alone.
I am grateful for the thoughts and prayers offered for me and my family, but many of us have found refuge in America.
I would especially welcome prayers for our military — the men and women who carry the burden of these decisions — and for the Iranian people who have endured decades of repression and still dare to hope. For the protesters who risked everything — and the heartbreaking many who lost everything — and those harmed by violence that has stretched far beyond Iran’s borders.
May we also pray for the possibility that this dangerous and consequential moment might mark the beginning of something I have hoped but didn’t dare would happen in my lifetime — the emergence of a democratic government that safeguards liberty and dignity of every citizen in Iran.