Whoopi Goldberg’s claim that Iran and America are ‘the same’ is offensive to Iranians suffering and dying — like my family

On Wednesday’s “The View,” Whoopi Goldberg said Iran and America are “the same.” In a heated exchange, Alyssa Farah Griffin disagreed, at one point saying, “It’s very different to live in the United States in 2025 than it is to live in Iran.” Whoopi retorted, “Not if you’re black!” Here, an Iranian who fled the country and lives in America responds.

There is absolutely no comparison between life in the United States and life under the Islamic Republic of Iran. The worst situation of any American citizen — regardless of race, gender or background — is still infinitely better than the daily fear, oppression and brutality people endure in Iran.

I lived there. I know the fear firsthand. I’ve seen it.

In Iran, you’re constantly watched. You can be arrested for a word, for a haircut, for listening to the wrong music, for refusing to conform.

They torture people. They execute dissidents. They even assassinate critics abroad.

So to hear someone on American TV, with total freedom of speech and legal protection, equate the United States with Iran is not only factually wrong — it’s offensive to those who are truly suffering and dying in silence.

In America, you can protest, sue, criticize the president and still go home safely at night. In Iran, that same act could get you killed. So no — they are not the same. Not even close.

Daily life in Iran is a prison — just not always with visible bars.

Every detail of your life is controlled: what you wear, what you say, who you associate with, what music you listen to, what you post online.

You’re constantly afraid. Your phone is tapped. You speak in whispers. You look over your shoulder. Every sentence can be used against you.

Women are beaten and arrested for how they dress. Students are tortured for speaking out.

There is no due process, no transparency, no protection.

They can arrest you without reason, torture you without trial, and your family may never know where you are. They force televised confessions, and then they hang people — publicly.

I’ve had family members tortured, detained. Some never came back.

So again, this is not something people in America, even in the worst circumstances, can fully grasp. It’s not struggle — it’s terror.

Iranians would generally rather be in the United States a thousand times over, even on its worst day. An Iranian would dream of having the problems Americans complain about.

In the United States, you have the right to speak, to challenge authority, to protest, to live your life.

In Iran, you have no such rights. You’re not even a person in the eyes of the regime. You’re property. And if you step out of line, they break you — and your family.

Here in America, even if someone disagrees with you, you still have the freedom to speak, to work, to achieve. People of all races have become billionaires, senators, even president.

So when someone in the West claims to be a victim while having access to courts, media, education and full legal protections, it feels like drama. It feels manufactured. Because in Iran, you’re not a victim — you’re a hostage.

Every single person in Iran knows someone who has been arrested, tortured or killed by the regime. It is not an exaggeration. It’s reality. Political imprisonment is so widespread that it touches every family.

My own family has lived through this nightmare. They tortured my father. They monitored us. They interrogated relatives.

And these stories never make the news — because they don’t allow journalists, they don’t allow truth.

People disappear. Mothers never find their children. Executions happen without trials.

It’s not a government — it’s a mafia that rules through fear, pain and violence. Everyone knows someone. Everyone lives in fear that he or she might be next.

I left Iran because of the oppression, the fear and the constant threat to my life and to my family. We were being watched. My father was tortured. My relatives were interrogated.

And I knew that if I stayed, I could disappear like so many others.

I still have family there — and they are constantly targeted. They are harassed, intimidated and punished, simply because I speak out. My elderly mother, who can barely walk, has been threatened.

They want to instill fear — to silence me. Most likely, they do it to stop me from writing and exposing the regime. And yes, I carry guilt every day because of that. I feel responsible for the pain they endure.

But I also know that silence helps the oppressor. I have to speak up. I have to write.

I have to expose the truth — even if it costs me everything. Even if it costs me my life.

Because what they are doing to the people of Iran is not just wrong — it is evil.

Majid Rafizadeh is a political scientist and advisory board member of the Harvard International Review.