On International Women’s Day, we pause to celebrate the indomitable spirit of women—their courage, their grace, and their boundless capacity to inspire. Yet, amid this celebration, we must also remember those whose voices were silenced too soon, whose lives were stolen by the cruel hand of terrorism. These are the daughters, mothers, and brides whose stories echo with resilience even in the face of unimaginable tragedy. Batool Safdari, Eshrat Eskandari, Mahnaz Sahranavard, and Yegane Ghasemi, as victims of terrorism, all lost their loved ones or were assassinated themselves in acts of terror. March 8, 2025, let us honor these martyrs not only for the lives they lived but for the light they continue to shine upon us, reminding the world that even in darkness, the spirit of a woman remains unbroken. In the pages that follow, we will share the stories of these remarkable women, preserving their memory and the lessons they leave behind.
Batool Safdari
It was June 12, 1982. Batool Safdari and Abbasgholi Aliabadi had traveled to Tehran to seek treatment for their 13-month-old daughter, Najmeh. They were staying as guests at the home of Mr. Esmaeil Safdari, Batool’s brother. The Mojahedin-e Khalq (MEK) terrorist group, aiming to assassinate Esmaeil Safdari—a worker at the Pars Khodro factory and the head of the factory’s Islamic Workers’ Association—stormed his house. Upon entering, they opened fire on everyone present. After ensuring the death of those in the home and realizing that 13-month-old Najmeh had been wounded, they set Esmaeil Safdari’s house ablaze. In this horrific act, Najmeh too was martyred. The case report of martyr Najmeh Aliabadi states: “She was martyred due to gunshot wounds and severe burns.”
Eshrat Eskandari
A Mother of Four
Eshrat Eskandari was born in 1957 in a village near Firuzkuh. During the Islamic Revolution of Iran, she participated passionately alongside other Muslim women, brimming with enthusiasm. A kind and devoted mother, she nurtured her four young children—Mahdi (4 years old), Mansoureh (4 years old), Masoumeh (6 years old), and Mohammad Javad (7 years old)—serving as a priceless teacher to them. On August 26, 1982, a few of her husband’s relatives were visiting their home. Early that morning, two elements from the MEK terrorist group rang the doorbell. Eshrat’s young daughter went to open the door and faced the intruders. They violently shoved her aside and stormed inside. Eshrat, her husband, and their guests were gathered around the breakfast table when the terrorists burst into the room. Without the slightest regard for who was present, they sprayed the room with bullets from an Uzi submachine gun, then rampaged through the house, firing indiscriminately. In this brutal crime, Eshrat Eskandari was martyred before her children’s eyes. Ali Akbar Khodadadi (18 years old) and Fatemeh Eshrieh (17 years old), a newlywed couple, were also martyred. Eshrat’s 4-year-old daughter was wounded by gunfire.
Mahnaz Sahranavard
A Martyred Bride
Only seven days had passed since her engagement ceremony. It was October 29, 1981, when Mahnaz, along with her parents, aunt, cousin, and sister-in-law, went shopping for her trousseau at the Na’lbandan market in Gorgan. After purchasing a few items, her parents returned home, while the others continued browsing the market.
Her sister-in-law recounts what happened next: “Mahnaz’s aunt, her cousin, and I were walking through the Na’lbandan market. As we reached one of the shops, a motorcycle suddenly screeched to a halt near us. Two men, dressed in matching clothes with their faces covered, stepped off. They threatened us, demanding we chant slogans against the government, but we refused. They shot Mahnaz’s aunt, Batool Noei Bahesh, in the heart, and she was martyred on the spot. Two bullets struck Mahnaz—one in her leg, the other in her abdomen. She lost a lot of blood. I screamed for help until a group of people arrived with an ambulance and took Mahnaz and her aunt to the hospital. But both had already been martyred.”
Mahnaz, a 19-year-old preparing for her new life as a bride, was thus taken by the MEK.
The Ghasemi Family
Two Martyrs and One Survivor
In the terrorist attack at the Kerman Martyrs’ Cemetery on January 3, 2023, this family lost both a mother and a daughter, while another daughter, Yeganeh, lost her leg. Aynaz, the youngest daughter, constantly hovers around her older sister. Though younger, she feels a sense of responsibility toward her sibling—a trait of a daughter who has lost her mother.
Mojtaba Ghasemi, father of martyr Ayda Ghasemi and husband of martyr Akram Kamali, shares his account: “That day, I was in the area. When the first explosion happened near General Soleimani’s tomb, the kids got scared. They called me, saying something had happened and they were heading home. They boarded a bus and reached the entrance of the Saheb al-Zaman Mosque. As they stepped off and stood near the Soltani family, that heartless terrorist detonated himself beside them. My wife and youngest daughter were martyred, and my other daughter became a survivor with her leg amputated. My children are grappling with immense pain. Yeganeh, who lost her leg, now has a blood infection. No matter how many antibiotics they give her, it doesn’t work. They say the shrapnel was contaminated, and that’s what’s caused the infection over time. We’re doing everything we can to help her stand and walk again.”
Yeganeh Ghasemi recalls the day: “My sister Ayda insisted we visit General Soleimani’s tomb. I agreed, and we went with our grandfather. Our grandmother was at a service tent, baking bread for pilgrims. We visited her tent, wished her a happy Mother’s Day, then went with Ayda, my cousin, and my uncle’s son to the tomb. My mom called, asking where I was. I said we were inside the mosque. She told me to come take Grandma’s place since Dad had arrived. I hadn’t seen Dad in days. We saw him, then he left. Mom said, ‘Let’s go to the tomb.’ We got on a bus when a loud blast shook us. We got off and saw people screaming and running. I begged Mom to leave, but she said, ‘Wait, let me see if anyone from our family was hurt in the explosion. Don’t be afraid; the guards are here, nothing will happen.’ Then I saw someone approach us. He was terrifying—thin legs, but his jacket was bulging. I was so scared. I told Mom, ‘Let’s go, quick!’ Suddenly, he blew himself up. I was thrown to the ground, then slammed back down. I couldn’t open my eyes. My cousin shouted, ‘Yeganeh, get up!’ Hearing his voice gave me hope. I pushed myself up with my hands and sat. My leg hurt terribly. I saw Ayda lying across my lap—her leg was gone, her intestines spilling out. I was terrified. I looked at Mom—her black scarf had fallen over her face, blood streaming from it. My cousin had passed out. I screamed for help. Medics tied off my leg, saying I was losing too much blood. Someone lifted me into an ambulance. The hospital was chaos. They took me to surgery, and then I blacked out.”