An account from Roya Heshmati about being flogged 74 times for refusing to wear the hijab, shared on on January 4, 2024: 

This morning, I received a call from the Sentence Enforcement Office to inform me that my sentence, 74 lashes, is to be carried out. I called my lawyer and together we went to the 7th District Prosecutor's Office [in Tehran]. We passed the entrance gate and I took off my hijab. We went to the office for Branch 1.

The branch employee said, “Put on your scarf so that it won’t cause any trouble.”

I said, “I'm here to be flogged for this reason. Go ahead and do it. I'm not going to wear it.”

They made some calls and the enforcement agent came and said: “Put on your hijab and follow me.”

I said: “I won’t cover my hair.”

“So you won’t cover your hair?” he said. “I’ll whip you so hard you’ll understand where you are. And I’ll file a new case against you so that you can be our guest again for another 74 lashes.”

I still didn’t cover my hair.

We went downstairs where there were some boys who had been arrested for drinking alcohol.

The official repeated sternly: “Didn't I tell you to cover your hair?”

I didn't listen.

Two chador-clad women came and pulled the scarf over my head. Again I took it off. This was repeated several times. Then they tied my hands behind my back and pulled the scarf on my head and took me down into a room at the end of the parking lot.

The judge, the enforcement agent, and a chador-clad woman, stood next to me. The woman sighed and said, “I know, I know…” The turbaned judge laughed in my face. He reminded me of [a character] in Sadegh Hedayat’s Blind Owl. I turned my head away from him.

The iron gate opened. The room was surrounded by cement walls. There was a bed at the end of the room with iron hand and foot cuffs on both sides of the frame. Slightly to the side, there was an iron device that looked like a painting stand. It was a medieval torture chamber.

The judge asked, “Are you okay, madam? Do you have any problem?”

I didn't answer him, as if he didn't exist.

“I'm talking to you, lady,” he said.

Again I didn't answer.

The enforcement agent said, “Take off your coat.”

I hung my coat and scarf on the torture stand.

He said, “Put your scarf on.”

I said, “I won't. Put your Quran under your arm and whip me.”

The woman came and said:, “Please don't be stubborn” and pulled the scarf over my head.

“Don't hit too hard,” said the judge.

The man started whipping my shoulders, my back, my hips, my thighs, my legs, and then started over. I didn't count the blows. I whispered under my breath: “Slavery’s garb has been tattered in the name of woman, in the name of life, and the dark night will slip into dawn and whips will turn to axes.”

It was over.

When we came out, I didn’t even let them think I was in pain. They’re much too base [for me to show them emotion].

We went upstairs to the judge who enforced the sentence. I took off my scarf at his door.

The woman said, “Please put your scarf on.”

I refused but she pulled the scarf over my head in the judge’s office.

The judge said, “We aren’t happy about this situation either but the sentence has to be carried out.”

I didn’t answer him.

He said: “If you want to live differently, you can live abroad.”

I said: “This country is for everyone.”

He said: “Yes, but the law must be obeyed.”

I said: "Let the law be as it is; we’ll continue our resistance.”

We left the room and again I took off my scarf.