Analysis
Smart, independent reporting on Turkey's politics, economy and foreign affairs.
For me, this year, Nov. 26, the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, arrived as a photograph. A staged one in which the woman’s face was hidden, but the hair defied all attempts at concealment. Sümeyye Akyol’s Domination, shown this week at young artists’ platform BASE at the Ritz-Carlton Residences, is built on fictional photographs using real women; mostly her friends and family.
Islamist YRP Chair Fatih Erbakan has promised to repeal Law 6284, the main legal safeguard protecting women from violence and the only remaining protection after Turkey withdrew from the landmark Istanbul Convention in 2021.
At the 13th meeting of the National Solidarity, Brotherhood, and Democracy Commission, lawyers were heard on Oct. 2 and Parliament Speaker Numan Kurtulmuş stated that the listening phase is about to end. Although not announced officially, women’s and children’s rights defenders as well as the intelligence service are expected to be heard in the coming days, before concluding the listening phase.
In Turkish, teşhirci (exhibitionist) is a word with two lives. In everyday use, it is an insult, hurled at women whose clothes are judged too revealing or at men who flaunt their cars and watches. In the Criminal Code, however, teşhircilik has a very precise meaning: exhibitionism. Article 225 punishes those who “publicly exhibit their sexual organs” with up to six months in prison. A word meant to describe a trench-coat flasher in a public park has, over time, swollen into a moral cudgel: used less to prosecute streakers and more to police women’s bodies.
Police detained five people, including three women, outside the Presidential Complex as they attempted to deliver a letter to President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan outlining demands related to Palestine. All were reported to be members of the Rainbow Association and the March for Palestine Platform.
The Kurdish political movement is a powerful women's movement as well. Within the movement, the female force is often described as “women’s revolution.” That’s why the “two Ks” in the title stand for Kurdish and Kadın (Woman). Pervin Buldan is one of the most prominent figures representing this female presence within the Kurdish political movement.
Ahead of CHP’s hesitations to join the parliamentary commission, DEM Party Co-Chair Tuncer Bakırhan said that the party will maintain its opposition identity even if the process is successful. Bakırhan stated that the matter will eventually be brought before the DEM and that they will not approve the constitutional amendment if it does not satisfy their demands regarding the Kurdish issue, democratization, women's rights, youth, Alevis' right to equal citizenship, economic justice, and the environment.
In Turkish, “normal doğum” refers to vaginal birth. But the term itself is anything but neutral. By naming one method “normal,” it quietly casts others — cesareans in particular — as “abnormal”. For women who undergo C-sections, whether for medical reasons or out of their own choice, the implication is clear: you failed to deliver the “natural” way. In fact, a Health Ministry ran a public ad two years ago that did just that: in a clumsily-shot clip, a baby just delivered by vaginal birth tells the mother that they “succeeded.” The contested term has once again taken center stage — not in a hospital, but on a football pitch.
When Hakan Fidan addressed the 14th conference of the ambassadors in August 2023, two months after he was appointed as foreign minister, the message was clear to those present in the hall. Having led the Turkish Intelligence Agency for 13 years, it became clear from Fidan’s address that foreign policy would be shaped and implemented from a security perspective. While this might not present an abnormality as the world is becoming highly insecure, Fidan took office at a time when Turkey was seeking to normalize its relations with many of its neighbors.
İmam nikahı, or dini nikah (religious wedding), has long been a battleground for women’s rights activists who strongly oppose religious marriage and support strict penalties for imams and muftis (Muslim clergy) who conduct religious unions without first ensuring that the couple has undergone a civil ceremony. Turkey’s laws on marriage are regulated by the 1926 Civil Code, which abolished polygamy, introduced civil marriage, and mandated that any religious ceremony—should citizens of the newly established secular state choose to hold one—must follow civil registration in a municipal office. In villages, chieftains (elected officials) conduct the ceremony, while consular officers perform civil ceremonies for Turks abroad. Under the 1926 laws, religious officers—whether imams, priests, or rabbis in Turkey’s multi-faith society— had no authority to perform official weddings, as they cannot verify the legal requirements, such as the age of the would-be spouses or whether they are already married.
On Oct.4, a 19-year-old man, Semih Çelik, carried out a horrifying double murder in Istanbul, brutally killing two young women within half an hour before ending his own life. Çelik’s body plummeted from the city’s historic ramparts shortly after the severed head of his second victim, İkbal Uzuner—a former classmate he had been obsessed with—hit the pavement below.