Nowruz, the Iranian New Year with pre‑Islamic roots, is normally a time of large family gatherings, colorful clothes and public celebrations across Iran and the diaspora. This year the mood was different: many Iranians abroad struggled with how to observe a joyous holiday while mourning relatives, friends and fellow citizens harmed during months of unrest.
Organizers faced hard choices. Jasmine Nourisamie, president of the Persian Cultural Society at New York University, said diaspora Iranians are widely connected to victims of killings, imprisonment, torture, rape and disappearance, and that the community was in a period of sustained mourning. After the regime’s mass killing of protesters in January, calls circulated online for Nowruz events to be scaled back; many organizations canceled planned programming. Nourisamie’s group decided to hold a gathering but replaced a typical celebration with a vigil, creating space to speak, grieve and support one another. Where past Nowruz festivities feature bright pastels, attendees that night largely wore black.
Responses varied across communities. Some sought quiet reflection and stillness; others embraced collective joy as an act of defiance. Arya Ghavamian, founder of the Disco Tehran dance parties that celebrate Iranian music, said the dance floor can serve as a space of resistance rather than mere entertainment. Having experienced censorship and enforced silence in Iran, he argues that continuing to sing and dance is a refusal to be pushed into silence.
For many, Nowruz also represents continuity and home. Ghavamian described the holiday as a living memory carried across generations: even amid hardship, the rituals and songs provide a link to ancestry and belonging.
In Brooklyn, Nozlee Samadzadeh put together a traditional haft sin table, arranging hyacinths, fruit, a well‑worn book and a mirror on embroidered white cloth. Still, she acknowledged that some usual practices were impossible this year: it is customary to phone family at the moment the new year begins, but a near‑total internet blackout in Iran made many calls impossible. With connections unreliable, she depended on long chains of relatives to pass along news about her grandmother.
The blackout left many people uncertain whether loved ones were safe; at any moment someone might not know if a cousin had been detained or if a relative’s home had been hit. Despite failed calls and the ongoing fear, families kept trying, communities gathered to mourn, and friends found different ways to mark Nowruz — some in silence, some on the dance floor. The holiday became, for many in the diaspora, a mixture of remembrance, solidarity and, for some, continued resistance.