"My valentine is dead", Says Iranian Woman During Toronto's Record-Breaking Feb. 14 Protest
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I walked amidst a seemingly endless sea of Iranians slowly marching through North York on Saturday, Feb. 14. United by their desperation for a regime change, chants of “Freedom for Iran” echoed through the streets.
At least three surveillance drones hovered over a four-kilometre stretch of Yonge Street, their buzzing drowned out by the impassioned chanting of the record-breaking 350,000 protesters who gathered in support of Iran's anti-regime movement.
Though Toronto Police initially announced that last Saturday's protest would draw about 200,000 people between Steeles Avenue and North York Boulevard, turnout far exceeded their projections as a sea of demonstrators peacefully marched through North York – their demands accentuated by the pre-1979 revolution flags they brandished.
Nearly 50 years after a revolution toppled his father’s regime, ushering in Iran’s first supreme leader, exiled Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi – the eldest son of Iran’s last emperor – managed to rally Iranians around the world in an attempt to wrest power from the grip of the nation's current leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.
Protesters marched from Steeles Avenue to North York Boulevard in support of an uprising that began in December. An expansive banner adorned with the faces of murdered Iranians was carried through the street, as though it were the world's longest hearse.
Up above, a propeller-driven aircraft glided through the sky, towing a banner that read "Make Iran Great Again" — Iran stylized in red.
Ironically it matched the heart-shaped balloon that drifted into the distance. But the artistic choice had little to do with the theatrics of seasonal love, instead punctuating the troubling times endured by those still trapped in the tyrannical stranglehold of Khamenei's regime.
“What do we want?!"
"Regime change!!” the crowd answered, veins bulging against the skin on their necks as a pervasive passion rippled through Yonge Street.
The helicopter circling the area, coupled with a multitude of drones buzzing above, amplified tensions. But at ground level, peace reigned supreme.
A fresh platoon of protesters approached, drums beating to the familiar cadence of traditional Persian music.
“Long live Iran’s Shah” one man brandished his sign. Another walked past me with a photo of a young man named Amirali Heydari.
“He was executed one month ago when Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) killed 20,000 in two nights,” he said when I asked who Amirali was.
Twenty thousand in two nights. I scanned our surroundings. Another sign declared that 40,000 were killed in the same period, while others inked 30,000 onto their cardboard cutouts. The march was littered with arbitrary numbers, highlighting a familiar ambiguity that usually surrounds such government-involved mass shootings. The true scale of descruction was a mystery to most. But the message stood out, crystallized, though haphazard statistics fluttered through the crowd.
Before leaving me to linger in solemn thoughts of young Amirali, the stranger delicately tapped his fist on my chest – the side that fosters each heartbeat – as though thanking me for participating. Much of the crowd gave me a similar gaze. Welcoming. I didn't feel like an outsider. For a couple hours, the melanin in my skin disappeared. I too was Iranian.
According to U.S.-based Human Rights Activists News Agency, there have been at least 7,015 verified fatalities with another 11,744 cases still under review. They report that 226 of those killed were under the age of 18, like Amirali, who I later discovered was shot in the heart.
Amirali’s death came amid worsening living conditions, as the Iranian rial’s fall to a record low against the U.S. dollar intensified local unrest. With recent rising costs, coupled with repressed frustrations about the civil liberties held hostage by their theocratic government, Iranians demanded change. On Jan. 8, 2026, Amirali, along with three friends, decided to be part of the change, rather than observing from the sidelines.
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