The prisoners themselves keep it alive. Every Tuesday, from inside the prisons, they issue a statement — 141 statements so far. We in Washington are the echo of that voice outside the prison walls. Fatigue is real, and no one should pretend otherwise. But the regime counts on fatigue; it counts on the world looking away. The moment protest stops, executions become routine news — one line, then forgotten. Our task is the opposite: to make sure no execution passes in silence, and that the prisoners know they are not alone.

No protest, by itself, stops a regime that has decided to kill. That is not the measure. The measure is whether the killing succeeds in its real purpose — which is to spread fear and to teach society that resistance is pointless. Every time we gather, every time the names of the executed are spoken aloud, every time the prisoners' statement is read in another city, we deny the regime that victory. The protests also keep the issue alive internationally: governments, media, and human rights organizations cannot claim they did not know. And for the families of prisoners, knowing that people stand with them — that is not nothing. That is everything.

Make it visible. An execution is the regime's attempt to erase a person; our answer is to make that person unforgettable. Share the names. Join a gathering if there is one near you. If there isn't, create one — even a small one. Write, speak, translate the prisoners' statements. The World Day is a reminder that opposition to the death penalty is a global cause, and Iran's prisoners are part of it. No action is too small when the alternative is silence.

I say: look at the prisons. The most hopeful people in Iran today may be the prisoners on hunger strike — people with nothing left to lose, who still choose resistance over surrender, and who still write to the outside world every single week. Hope is not a feeling that arrives before action; it is built through action. Every Tuesday for 141 weeks, ordinary people have proven that continuity itself is a form of power. The regime wants you to believe you are alone. You are not.

Yes — and it matters more than you think. This campaign was never only about streets. Share the prisoners' statements — translate them into Kurdish, Turkish, Baluchi, Arabic, Lori, and other local languages — and we abroad will try to do the same for English, German, French, Italian, and others. Talk to the people around you — in your classroom, your workplace, your family. Refuse to let an execution pass without a word. The regime arrests people for a tweet because it fears words as much as crowds. Every person who breaks the silence in their own circle is part of this campaign.

Two things: continuity, and who leads it. This is not a hashtag that trends for a week — it is 141 weeks without a single break, anchored in the hunger strike inside the prisons. The prisoners lead; we follow. That reverses the usual pattern, where the diaspora speaks on behalf of people inside. Here, the people inside speak, and we amplify.

It is the weapon of those who have nothing else. A prisoner on hunger strike puts their own body on the line to say: we will not accept this quietly. One hunger striker can be ignored; 66 prisons striking together cannot. It turns individual suffering into collective power, and it forces the world to look at what the regime wants hidden.

Completely. Woman, Life, Freedom is the horizon — a free Iran. The fight against executions is part of the same struggle: the regime that kills women for showing their hair is the same regime that executes protesters and tortures prisoners. Many of the hunger-striking prisoners are women. The causes are one, and the enemy is one.

When there are no more executions and no more political prisoners — when the prison doors open and no one fears the knock at midnight. Until that day, every Tuesday. That is the whole message of this campaign: no to killing, no to executions — said together, out loud, every week, until it wins.