My Son Should Know His Father

Click to read the article in Turkish / Kurdish 

When I was a student, one of my favorite descriptions of myself was: "I am a 'man' because that is what it says on my ID".

I did not hesitate to say this publicly, loud and clear, and the listeners were not surprised either. Years passed, after the September 12 coup a lot of water went under the bridge and the same sentence came to cause strange looks, subtle scorn and smiles.

I did not forget it but I guess over time I found other ways to identify myself.

When you take part in life as such there is no room for violence. But is that really so? No, surely... and definitely...

No room for violence!

I never held a grudge, took offence at or physically fought with anyone. In fact, even when my friends were punching the fascist we had caught training a gun and shooting at us, I did not even raise my hand.

And once, we were the ones on the offensive. I recall I was expected to do something, I lifted my foot but could not kick and the fascists ran away. But violence does not merely mean hitting or beating! Frowning is a form of violence too, and shouting, which I do a lot.

I found the solution; I am saying "desperate person swears". And then I feel sorry.

It occurred to me as I was writing... I had hit my girlfriend many times for tearing up and throwing away my ex-girlfriend's pictures. Shame on me. I apologize after all these passing years.

Does she remember? Is it something that can be forgotten, surely she did not forget but pretends not to remember. Maybe—I wish—she was angry at herself for getting jealous... Then we continued our friendship, that incident did not drive a wedge between us or consume our relationship... Obviously, we are both still sorry. This is nothing but incompetence...

If you cannot articulate your concerns or if it is not the right time and if the other person's mind is on something else entirely, if they are preoccupied with a thousand other unrelated things, you raise your voice, frown and the words start to change.

If that person is a bit small, especially if it is a woman and you think you can overpower them, you raise your hand to slap or punch. If the blow does not land, that is you do not physically hit the person, does that mean that you did not inflict violence?

War is violence too

Children who were "killed in the class on Government" says Ece Ayhan in the language of poetry. Isn't that a form of violence too? Blockading the human rights monument in the heart of Ankara is a form of violence too.

But you know what is worse still? It is the words of a male TV host [Beyazıt Öztürk] who initially acknowledged the words of the teacher who called in live to his show and said "May the children not die", but then when coerced by the state defended himself and in doing so fell from grace in my eyes.

A form of violence is taking place, a teacher is expressing her sorrow, the state interferes, penalizes that teacher, and the host multiplies the violence.

Over the last three centuries only 11 years were lived in peace. Feeling justified, the states (accompanied by others depending on how powerful they are) have invaded, occupied people's lands and killed people year after year.

In course of our foreign policy from which we expected "zero problems", sacks were put over our soldiers' heads, our diplomats, even an MP (but he was in jail), were kidnapped, our bureaucrats were taken hostage, and many others lost their lives. Don't these count as the male violence of the male administrators of the male state?

What should I do? Should I chuck this piece and write a new one? Should I opt for a more emotional narrative filled with poems, stories?

No, let me take shelter in despair and swear a mouthful. Let us shout all together, in unison: No to violence! Peace right now!

Right when I thought I had completed this piece...

I do not know if you will call it coincidence or a part of life's rich tapestry, but it is true.

My first girlfriend called me; though we do not see each other very often, we still love and inquire after one another:

"I will ask you something. Are you available?"

Always available for you...

"Did condoms exist when we were together?"

...I paused for a moment, I was surprised, where did that come from now? Yes, of course, they existed; they were maybe hard to find and perhaps a bit expensive...

"Then, why didn't we use them? I had so many abortions..."

...it had only one answer. We were ignorant. Yes, we were university graduates and we were literate (she had award-winning stories, I had my movies), we were keeping in step with life but we were uninformed. (I realize that I should be ashamed even though this was 33 years ago.) It was the first time I had seen a naked woman, we were unaware.

"Well, have you ever used any?"

Later on... yes, I used them later on.

She started to cry. My knees buckled under the justified sorrow of not being able to rest her head on my shoulder, hug and let her cry, I wanted to say, "Don't cry", the words stuck in my throat.

That was another violence. Wasn't the trauma she experienced—the ignorance and lack of awareness that confronted me years later—violence?

... almost everyday, one woman is being murdered by her close relatives, be it her partner, her husband or her father.

... the murderer who raped a three-year-old child to death was murdered by the other inmates in prison.

... the state detains and convicts anyone and everyone who dissents from the state.

... the state shuts its eyes and ears while children are being abused and raped at—mostly illegal—courses and places of religious education.

The last word...

I had my wife read this piece so that we could discuss it... so that we could correct any possible mistakes (misspellings, ambiguities, or statements that failed to get their point across or exceeded their intent).

When talking about the piece in general, she said, "I told you to put her letters away but you didn't. That too was a violence, and pure male violence at that". As for tearing up and throwing away those letters, she says, "I regret it, wish my hand broke and I couldn't do it", but it is still not enough...

There is still some time until my son reads it, for reasons of age... He should definitely read it too. He should know his father... He will thus get to know the society as well. (KA/ŞA/APA/SD/TK/IG)

* Images: Kemal Gökhan Gürses

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