Sur-Karşıyaka-Cebeci-Babıali*

* The old center of the printed press in İstanbul.

Click to read the article in Turkish / Kurdish

It was the early 1950s...

My father was a distillery expert at Diyarbakır Wine Factory. I was attending Süleyman Nazif Primary School in Sur, Diyarbakır. Time long past but I think there was a boy with glasses and two chubby girls in our class. From day one of school, these three kids were bullied and tormented mostly by the boys. Our more gentle choice of words were cow, fat potato and four-eyes. My heart still sinks when I remember the tears of these three friends of ours.

A few years later...

My father was at İzmir TEKEL Factory this time. I was attending Karşıyaka Fevzi Paşa Primary School. There is an increase in the number of boys with glasses and chubby girls. We carry on with our bullying or bear witness to the kids being tormented in İzmir now. Here, we add "Zeki Müren" supposedly as yet another insult in our repertoire next to the "four-eyes". It may sound funny to think that male violence begins like that, but believe me, it truly begins like that.

This state of affairs, which we can describe as harassment, of course continued at Karşıyaka High School and Karşıyaka Erdem College where I attended later. It did not change but the level of harassment increased significantly. There are cliché names given to boys who calmly walk around or don't play soccer: "Girl Ahmet, Niminy-Piminy Mustafa..."

Let me add right away: even though I had no interest in soccer, I managed to become a goalkeeper—or at least I thought I did—for fear of the nicknames they would give me.

The situation is a bit more dire for girls. We think all the girls are ready and willing to do everything and go everywhere with us. Because we are the "sons", the "man-children" of our fathers and even of some mothers!

I am trying to explain the following: I guess this male violence, sexual harassment, physical violence, mobbing, however you name it, begins in primary school. We all had teachers who said, "Don't cry like a girl" or "Don't jump around like boys". Teachers resumed the education, picked it up from where the families left off.

The biggest fights I witnessed in a modern city like İzmir were between the male students of Karşıyaka and Air Force high schools.

You guessed the reason right. When a boy from Air Force High School was seen with a girl from Karşıyaka High School, the boy would immediately be beaten up and the girl would be sent her home with all sorts of insults.

The following week, Air Force High School students would terrorize Karşıyaka with groups of 10 -20 students, shouting "You beat up our friend". Hell would break loose. The grown-ups of course figured out what it was all about right away. "Guys, is it worth fighting over a girl?"

The next sentence, which we would be hearing a lot in the future, was: "Why did you pick on the boy, the girl must have given him the glad eye!". And scores of similar lines...

Of course, it is possible to slur over these and blame puberty and whatnot but unfortunately, it continued.

The same years...

One day, in the kitchen I accidentally witnessed my father, who never laid a finger on us, slap my mother. It was a very hard slap and my mother nearly fell on the floor. I must have been around 14-15 years old.

Even though I was scared, I remember trying to charge at my father. I also sadly remember that despite the state she was in my mother came between us and told me "Son, your father is very distressed, you go out" and sent me to the garden.

This was not the end of it. One day, when we came home, our mother with a bag in her hand, took the hands of my brothers Turhan, Turgut, my sister Türkan who was in primary school and Taner who was even younger, and said, "Come on, we are leaving".

"Where are we going mom?", I asked. She said, "We are going to your aunt in Bursa and we will never come back to this house". My mother left us at the door of the post office and went inside. Two hours later, she came out with a very pale face.

Young people would not remember, but back in the day you would go to the post office, get in line, give the number you want to call, and if you are lucky, your number would be dialed in one or two hours so you could speak on the phone.

Next thing we know we were going back to our home in the Nergiz neighborhood of Karşıyaka. Since I was the eldest my dear mom unburdened herself to me, she said, "Son, your aunt and her husband said, a couple of slaps is no big deal, don't break up your family, don't leave your home, don't come here".

So we went back, crestfallen...

The mid 60s...

Liberating footsteps of the 70s have begun to be heard... Many young men and women aged between 18-25, including myself, are at the Faculty of Political Science in Ankara University. Half of us are staying at the Siyasal dorm on Cebeci Campus.

Three fourths of the 400-people dormitory are men, one fourth are girls (of course staying in a separate section). Every one of us is alone with life for the very first time. Everyone is very happy.

Now, one might say, "Things have changed a lot, right, Tuğrul?"

I am afraid not.

Even the most progressive ones among us were regarding the women, especially the beautiful ones who had boyfriends, as "wanton and floozy". I want to mention someone who is not with us anymore. Carmen Nursun did not only graduate from Ankara University but also studied at the Faculty of Medicine and became a doctor. Let me say hello to her.

She is the most beautiful girl in the school. Only dates the handsome ones. We don't talk about it in public of course but when we are chatting among us boys, usually with some vodka and beer, we shamelessly gossip about women, about who is a virgin and who is not.

Indeed, the only beautiful woman was not Nursun, other beauties also had their share of the gossips: Zerrin, Berrin, Fatoş, Hülya, Samiye, Sema, Ferda, Semra, Ülkü, Sevtap, İpek, Selma, Canset, Vekaa, Işık, Necmiye, Nimet, Hale, Gaye, Ferhan, Sezi...

When the years of 1968-69 come calling, it hits us in the head that these women and especially Nursun are not only beautiful but also the toughest and most reliable people in our lives.

That was when I questioned myself for the first time. "Why do you care who is flirting with whom, mind your own business!". But I was already 22 when I reached that stage.

And we had a young friend, whose name I cannot remember right now, but he would sit at the canteen and knit which we thought was very odd at the time. I still feel troubled about the passive-aggressive treatment we gave him.

I hope he reads this article. I wish he would ask me "Why did you join the others?" so I can say "I'm sorry!". Unfortunately, this friend also dropped out of school before long.

These are but a couple of instances of what men do against women and men who are not like them... Can we hide behind the excuse of "I was a child, I was young..."?

During the long years I spent in TRT and Babıali I personally witnessed that the situation did not change in business life either. We have seen directors well up in years who were harassing the interns.

I had tens of colleagues who were—to put it mildly—looking down on their coworkers just because they were women.

I will not go into all that but I hope that perhaps when they read this article series, they too will want to say something like "Oh, what have we done!".

Let me say one final thing: Throughout my four decades long journalism career, I remember only one woman, Nurcan Akad, who served as editor-in-chief in the mainstream media. The number of my women colleagues who took part in decision-making mechanisms is extremely low. Can there be a greater violence than this?

I apologize to all the young women and men reporters whom I might have, knowingly or not, subjected to mobbing.

Let me call on all men, join this campaign of "questioning". Each one of us can surely be of some use in our respective stations in life. (TE/ŞA/APA/TK/IG)

* Images: Kemal Gökhan Gürses

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