I sat in my car, my Free Iran sign resting on the passenger seat, and noticed my body before my thoughts. Jaw clenched. Chest full. Breath shallow. I hate crowds. I wondered how to prepare myself for what was coming. Should I play Baraye or Tibetan bowl sounds? I fastened my seatbelt, took a slow breath, and felt the familiar mix of resolve and fear settle in.

There is a moment before a protest begins when the body already knows. Feet press more firmly into the ground. Muscles subtly brace. Long before we chant or march, something inside us is mobilizing.

Protest is not only political. It is physiological.

Protest as a Nervous System Event

From a polyvagal perspective, our nervous system is constantly scanning for safety, danger, or life threat. When we witness injustice, violence, repression, or collective harm, especially to people we are deeply attached to, the body moves into activation.

Anger rises. Heart rate increases. Muscles tense. Breath shortens.

This is not pathology. This is the body preparing to protect.

For many of us in the diaspora, this activation has nowhere to go. We watch. We wait. We scroll. The anger stays trapped inside the body with no outlet. Over time, that trapped energy can turn into anxiety, numbness, depression, irritability, or a deep sense of helplessness.

Protest changes that equation.

Why Protest Can Feel Regulating

When we protest, something shifts. The body moves. The voice is used. The eyes meet others who are feeling the same thing. The nervous system receives a crucial message: I am not alone, and I am not powerless.

According to polyvagal theory, safety is not only an internal state. It is relational. Safety emerges when our nervous system senses connection, shared purpose, and coordinated action.

Marching together, chanting together, even standing quietly together allows the body to discharge stored survival energy. The anger that was stuck finally has direction. The grief that felt isolating becomes shared. The fear that kept us frozen finds movement.

This is why people often report feeling calmer, clearer, or even emotionally lighter after protesting, despite physical exhaustion.

Anger; The most misunderstood emotion

Anger is one of the most misunderstood emotions. It is often judged, suppressed, or intellectualized. But from a nervous system lens, anger is simply mobilized life force. It is energy meant to create change or protection.

When anger cannot move outward in healthy ways, it turns inward or goes dormant. Dormant anger does not disappear. It lives in the body as tension, headaches, digestive issues, jaw clenching, chronic stress, or emotional withdrawal.

Protest allows anger to move without becoming destructive.

It gives the body permission to say: This matters. I matter. We matter.

How to Avoid Projected Anger

Projected anger is what happens when the nervous system is activated, overwhelmed, or holding unresolved energy, and the emotion looks for the nearest outlet. It is rarely about the person in front of us. It is about what has not been felt, named, or moved through inside. We project anger when our body is in a state of fight but our mind does not yet feel safe enough to turn inward.

You can begin to spot projected anger by noticing urgency and intensity that feel disproportionate. A sharp tone. A need to be right, which seems to be the tone these days with the Iranian diaspora. A sudden irritation with loved ones who are not the true source of the pain. Pause and ask, with compassion rather than judgment: What am I actually reacting to right now? What am I carrying that does not belong in this moment?

The goal is not to suppress anger, but to redirect it. As a somatic practitioner I always defer to the body's sensations. Ground your feet. Soften your jaw. Slow the body. Breathe longer on the exhale. When the nervous system settles even slightly, anger becomes information instead of a weapon. From that place, it is possible to express truth without destroying connection.

Practicing this kind of self-reflection protects relationships during times of collective stress. It allows us to stay connected to our values, to ourselves, and to the people we love, even while carrying grief, rage, and fear. Compassion toward yourself is what prevents anger from becoming collateral damage. Collective Trauma Moves Through Collective Action.

Collective trauma does not heal in isolation. It lives in the spaces between us, in shared histories, silences, and inherited survival strategies.

This is why protesting alone at home does not have the same effect as showing up with others. The nervous system is social. It regulates through co-regulation.

Standing next to someone who is chanting the same words, holding the same grief, or carrying the same rage creates a field of shared regulation. Even brief eye contact with a stranger who understands can soften the nervous system in ways that private coping cannot.

Protest becomes a form of collective witnessing.

We are saying, without needing to explain: I see this too.

From Freeze to Agency

Many people notice a subtle but important shift after protesting. The feeling of inertia loosens. The body feels less frozen. There is a sense, however small, of agency. For some the guilt of not being in the country loosens.

Agency is not about controlling outcomes. It is about restoring movement.

When the nervous system has been stuck in freeze or collapse, any meaningful action helps reestablish a sense of choice. Protest is one way the body remembers that it can act in alignment with its values.

Zan Zendegi azadi Iranian revolution 2026 Projected anger and collective trauma

Connection to Self and Community is the Medicine

What ultimately makes protest regulating is not the signs or the slogans. It is connection. In democratic societies, political expression is a fundamental right, and in a globalized world, that right travels with us across borders. Many of us carry personal, familial, and moral ties to events unfolding far from where we live. Protesting becomes a way to honor those ties, to stand inside shared humanity, and to let the nervous system know we are not bearing this alone.

Connection with yourself, as you listen inward, sensing what your body and soul are asking for, and allowing the emotions moving through you to have space.

Connection with others, as you stand shoulder to shoulder in shared reality, without persuading, explaining, or defending.

Connection with meaning, as your actions align with your values and give direction to what has been stirred inside.

Together, these three create nervous system coherence.

After protesting, you may notice deeper sleep, fuller breaths, or a return of emotional presence. You may also feel tender, raw, or spent. All of it is normal. Movement releases what has been held.

After the Protest Ends

What matters just as much as showing up is how we come back down.

The nervous system needs time to settle after activation. Gentle movement, hydration, quiet, touch, and rest help integrate what was released. Talking with someone who understands, or simply sitting together without words, allows the body to return to baseline without snapping back into numbness.

Protest opens the door. Integration helps us walk through it.

Doing Something Changes Us

In times of collective trauma, doing something does not mean fixing everything. It means staying in relationship with ourselves and with each other.

Protest reminds the nervous system that we are alive, connected, and responsive. It transforms stored anger into movement, isolation into belonging, and helplessness into participation.

We are not meant to carry collective pain alone, silently, or motionless.

Sometimes healing begins not with answers, but with our bodies moving together, saying in unison: We are here. We see this. And we are not disconnected from one another.