While I do not speak for the Australian-Iranian diaspora as a whole, I am gravely concerned for what this attack will cost in innocent lives.
One evening in Tehran in 1980, my grandfather got an anonymous tip that the Islamic Republic of Iran wanted him dead. That night, he, my grandmother, and my 15-year-old mother fled their native Iran on a last-minute flight to Heathrow with the help of a forged passport. With two tightly packed suitcases, they made it out.
Eventually, my grandfather’s ingenuity allowed them to immigrate to Australia after three years spent in asylum-seeking purgatory in London. Together, my family built a fresh life in Sydney. We survived.
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