Nowruz, the Iranian New Year with pre‑Islamic origins, is normally celebrated with large, colorful gatherings across Iran and among its diaspora. This year those gatherings were tempered by grief and anxiety as Iranians overseas struggled to mark a festive occasion while fearing for relatives and mourning those lost.
Jasmine Nourisamie, president of the Persian Cultural Society at New York University, described a community that feels connected to people who have been killed, imprisoned, tortured, raped or have disappeared. After a government crackdown and mass killings of protesters in January, activists encouraged subdued observances and several organizations canceled public events.
Nourisamie and her group took a middle road: instead of a traditional party, they organized a vigil where people could gather, speak and mourn together. The usual bright pastels and festive attire were replaced by black clothing and a somber atmosphere.
For others, celebration itself became an act of resistance. Arya Ghavamian, the founder of Disco Tehran, said dance floors can serve a political purpose. Having experienced censorship in Iran, he argued that refusing to be silenced is meaningful — dancing and playing banned or pre‑revolutionary music can keep cultural memory alive. Disco Tehran spotlights music from before and after the 1979 revolution and highlights artists such as Googoosh as part of that shared heritage. For Ghavamian, observing Nowruz is a way of preserving continuity and a sense of home.
Many traditional customs continued in private. In a Brooklyn apartment, Nozlee Samadzadeh set up a haft sin, the Nowruz display of symbolic items, arranging purple hyacinths, fruit, a well‑worn book and a mirror on a white, silver‑embroidered cloth. Even intimate rituals were altered by circumstances: the customary call to family at the exact moment the year changes was often impossible because calls into Iran frequently did not connect.
A near‑total internet blackout in Iran has made communication unreliable, leaving those abroad unable to confirm relatives safety immediately. Samadzadeh said she has been receiving information through long chains of relatives, a literal game of telephone, because direct calls and messaging are often blocked.
As a result, communities abroad responded in varied ways. Some found comfort in quiet remembrance and collective mourning; others reclaimed communal joy as a form of defiance. Families called when they could, groups gathered to grieve and remember, and friends filled dance floors that for many served as spaces of cultural survival and resistance.