As thousands of Iranian Australians flooded Melbourne’s CBD in a sea of flags, drums and dancing, it was hard not to notice that the celebration carried the weight of personal grief ... and fierce hope.

One Iranian-Australian I talked to told me that many in his community weren’t simply marking the assassination of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei in targeted U.S. and Israeli strikes. He was thinking about six friends he says never made it out of Iran’s latest wave of unrest.

“I’ve lost six friends,” he told me. “I wish they could be here today to see this.”

The man, who lived in Iran for more than two decades before moving to Australia 11 years ago, had returned only weeks earlier during nationwide protests. He told me that the uprising was absolutely organic and not manufactured by foreign powers.

“When I was there, I saw something interesting. Something was growing up, something was building up. People were not happy,” he said.

What began as frustration quickly evolved into open defiance. According to him, the demonstrations drew in people from all walks of life and even religious women in full hijab. “They said we don’t want them, we want them gone.”

As night fell during those protests, the tone shifted dramatically. “About nine, half past nine we started hearing bullets,” he recalled. By midnight, “the whole internet was shut down”.

Go Ad Free

It took him and his family weeks to safely leave the country. His wife was temporarily unable to exit Iran, forcing him and his daughter to wait overseas until she could join them. Despite the danger, he says he is grateful he witnessed what he believes was a turning point.

He rejects the narrative that celebrations abroad are disconnected from sentiment inside Iran. “Even before that, people didn’t want them,” he said of the regime. “We knew that … the regime was finished.”

While he estimates “5 to 6%” of the population still support the leadership, he describes the ruling class as “a cartel ruling over a country”, not a legitimate government.

When critics question how anyone can celebrate while their homeland faces air strikes, he draws a sharp distinction. “The country is not being bombed. The Ayatollahs are being bombed,” he said, describing the attacks as targeted.

Back in Melbourne, as music echoed through the CBD and families embraced, his message was unequivocal.

“People have no idea what just happened,” he told me. “The whole world is a safer place without this person.”

For him, Sunday’s rally wasn’t just political theatre. It was vindication and a moment he believes his six fallen friends should have lived to witness.