I never could have imagined that they would halt the train in the middle of the subway tunnels. At first, I thought maybe the train had a problem and that's why it was stopped. I was a little scared and nervous. When the train stopped completely, my heart began to race. My friends and I exchanged reassuring looks to help calm each other. Then the door of the women's car opened and the train operator appeared. "What are you women up to? The subway intelligence has contacted us. They've seen you in the cameras and asked us to hand you over to the agents," he said angrily. 

My fears came true. They had stopped the train because of us. I hastily placed the pamphlets I was carrying in my bag and made my way towards the door. Then I started running. I had to make the right decision at the moment. If the pamphlets were found by the agents, if we were identified, we would be prosecuted. 

As I ran out of the car, the train operator informed the subway agents. I could hear the announcement over Sadeghieh station's speakers: "Catch the woman wearing a white overall." Did he make a mistake or was it on purpose that he described me incorrectly. I was wearing a black overall with a white scarf. I fled towards the Karaj train and boarded it.

My legs and arms were shaking. I couldn't stop the trembling. I was lucky and the train started to move. I sat next to a man and asked him to hide my phone, but he refused. Despite the danger and risk of arrest, I could not bring myself to delete the videos of our protest that I had recorded on the subway. They were being uploaded on Whatsapp to a journalist who had agreed to publish them. I sat on the floor until the train left the station. My mouth was dry. I was hoping that my friends had also managed to escape. While I was worried about them, at least all the pamphlets and videos were with me, giving me some sense of relief.

It was unbelievable that we were being targeted for speaking out about our basic rights and protesting mandatory hijab. All we did was raise awareness among other women and bring attention to acid attacks on women for their "improper" hijab. Perhaps someday I'll write about our struggles and sacrifices for our basic rights, and it will seem ridiculous that we were prosecuted for such simple things. We were not dangerous criminals or terrorists, yet we were hunted immediately. . 

When the train finally reached the end of the line, Golshahr station in Karaj, I had to get off. I tried to contact my friends, but their phones were off, and I became even more worried. With no other choice, I threw away all the pamphlets and took a taxi home. Later that night, I discovered that my friends had recorded a video introducing themselves, expressing their concerns  for me, saying that I was arrested. I wasn’t. A week later, we printed the pamphlets again, wore different clothes and went to the subway station again to talk with women.