For all these reasons, I started writing a new story. Since the meddah form requires multiple characters and performing them, I came up with the idea of telling the story of a woman who, in the 1930s, dressed as a man to perform as a meddah. Through the story of why she dressed as a man, I wanted to open a discussion about gender norms. Her courage to perform a traditionally male-only practice as a woman becomes a form of resistance to patriarchy and authority, and her act of creating her own way of expression becomes a part of feminist storytelling.
As Judith Butler discusses in her book Bodies That Matter, gender is shaped within certain power relations and guided by the norms set by society. In other words, the way someone expresses their personality and gender in public is influenced by social pressure and commonly accepted norms. For this reason, the main character Asude chooses to leave behind her female identity and take on a socially accepted male identity in order to be accepted.
For the opening of the performance, unlike traditional meddah performances, I aimed to create a conversational environment. I positioned myself within the audience and placed them in the middle of the performance. This way, the atmosphere felt warm, non-imposing, and organically guided us into the performance. Based on the audience in front of me, I gently entered the performance by choosing a topic or a song that would capture their interest. In this way, the audience wouldn't feel forced into watching the performance by an authority figure, like the traditional meddah who would strike his cane three times. Instead, they would be invited into the performance if they chose to engage.
Just like Helene Cixous discusses in her work The Laugh of the Medusa, I chose a new way of storytelling by moving away from the patriarchal structure. I opted for a multi-voiced, free, and feminist mode of narration that allows, and even encourages, the audience's participation.
After the framework of the text was created, I began to develop characters around Asude. First, I started writing Asude's mother. Asude's mother would be a character who died from the violence of her husband when Asude was young, and who had also suffered years of sexual abuse by her biological father during her own childhood. Domestic violence and femicide are unresolved societal issues in Turkey, where the state fails to punish perpetrators of violence and provide deterrent sentences. Bringing stories that evoke both personal and societal shame, such as abuse, into the public sphere and opening them up for discussion was inevitable for the purpose of my project, which aims to give a voice to silenced women. As Bell Hooks discusses in Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center, I placed the untold, marginalized stories right at the center of the narrative.
At the beginning of my writing process, my idea was to start with my own life story. As a woman, I began writing a text about the challenges I faced in my society. I knew that many other women experienced similar difficulties. Because of this, I thought my story would be inclusive and that many women could relate to it.
In the text, I planned to talk about my marriage, domestic violence, the struggles I faced during my divorce, my journey of discovering and redefining my identity after falling in love with a woman, and the fears I experienced while coming out. However, performing this story meant exposing myself, and since I live in a country where homophobia is common, there were some safety risks. I could manage these risks by choosing safer locations.
However, as I researched Meddah performances more deeply, I discovered that meddahs rarely tell their own stories. Instead, they tell the stories of others. So, I decided to rewrite my text with a new strategy.
But the main theme remained the same: Women’s stories, being the voice of silenced women.
Welcome back, everyone. Now, I’m going to tell you about Asude’s mother.
When Asude was just five years old, her mother committed the greatest sin on earth—one that would cost her life. She didn’t put enough salt in the food… Since that day, Asude has always poured salt onto her meals. By the time she leaves the table, the entire table—and even the floor—is covered in salt. And every time she stands up from a meal, she sprinkles a pinch of salt over her head, so that bad luck won’t follow her. Though, honestly, I don’t know how much worse her luck could get because of this salt issue.
Meryem was a beautiful, lively, slightly plump woman. Despite her poverty, despite everything, she remained cheerful.
Those who knew her would say, "Meryem, don't you ever have any worries? You’re always smiling." But in reality, Meryem was afraid. She feared that if she didn't smile, all her secrets would be exposed. That's why she always smiled. She hid her secrets behind her smile.Her husband was deeply in love with her mother. But her mother didn’t love her father the same way—after all, she was just a child. What did she know about love? When she heard she was getting married, she thought, “Oh, finally, the nightmare is over. I’m getting out of this house.” She was married off at 13—still a child. Later, people said, “Poor woman, she had such a tragic fate.” They said, “She escaped her father’s beatings only to die at the hands of her husband. You can’t escape fate.” People always blame fate for everything. That’s just how they are.
One day, while she was in the kitchen, preparing a meal—completely unaware that this meal would lead to her end—she was humming a song. And, as always, Asude was watching her mother with admiration. *(Song 1:She takes on the role of the mother, using an accessory, and starts singing… “Aman Avcı…”)
Suddenly, the door burst open with a kick.
“I’m home! Set the table!”
All the joy in the room was shattered in an instant. That’s how it always was for Meryem. Doors in her life either flew open with a kick or creaked open slowly in the dead of night. She thought to herself, “At least the kicked doors are better.” When she was a child, it was her father who opened doors in the middle of the night. Those doors took away her childhood, her womanhood. The doors her husband kicked open took away her life.
What can we say? Meryem had a cruel fate.
Meryem used to say, “My father loves me. This is just his way of loving me…” (a quote from an interview)
But then she wondered, “If this is love, why don’t I like it? Why does he tell me not to tell anyone? If it’s love, why should it be a secret?”
One day, she decided to tell her mother.
“Mom,” she said, “Dad comes into my room at night. He says he loves me, but I don’t like it. Tell him to stop.”
Her mother stared at her.
“What are you saying?” she said. “That’s nonsense. Your father loves you—what more do you want? You just have to stay quiet and do as he says. He’s your father.”
“But, Mom…”
“No buts,” her mother said firmly. “I don’t want to hear such nonsense again. If you talk like this, he might throw us out on the streets. Do you want strangers to ‘love’ you instead?”
Meryem fell silent. Maybe it was just a dream. If even her mother didn’t believe her, who would? She pulled the blanket over her head, squeezed her eyes shut. But that dream became a nightmare—one that filled her room every night. She couldn't tell anybody. (Song 2: A song enters... ''Kimseye Etmem Şikayet'')
Unfortunately, it was real.
Meryem’s nightmare was real. And it continued every night until she turned 13.
She hated the nights. She hated her father. She hated her mother. But most of all, she hated herself. She felt ashamed. “It must be my fault,” she thought. “I must have done something wrong.”
Every child blames themselves, don’t they?
“It’s my fault. This is my fate. I have to live with it.”
The nights stretched on, longer and longer, until Meryem’s whole life became one endless night. *(Song 3: A song plays… “Olma Sabah…”)
I performed these stories both separately and together because meddahs would also tell different stories depending on their audience. As a narrative approach, I chose women's stories that hold meaning both individually and when told together because they are connected to each other.
WHAT'S NEXT ?
I am currently writing the story of "Feraye," the daughter of the neighbor Asude falls in love. In this story, I will explore the narrative of a queer woman living in the Ottoman era, who falls in love with another woman but fears that if she finds out she is a woman, she will reject her, because she has known her as a man. Through this, I aim to address and open up discussions on societal identity, homosexuality, societal pressure on these issues, and the lives that were left un-lived because of it. Here, drawing from Judith Butler's ideas about the influence of societal norms on the formation of sexual identity, I will explore how societal expectations shape and constrain personal identities, particularly in the context of gender and sexuality.
The video of the interview which I used the line ''My father loves me, this is just his way of loving me...''
You know, I've been talking about becoming the first female meddah (traditional Turkish storyteller), right? Well, turns out, there actually was a woman like that. Back in 1930s, in Bursa. She would disguise herself as a man and go to coffeehouses to perform her storytelling. And she did it all her life, never getting caught. Her name was Asude Hanım.
One day, she put on her hat, pulled it down low over her face, and walked into one of the busiest coffeehouses in Bursa. She hit her cane to the ground three times, and began to sing her tale… (Song 1: Güzel bir göz beni attı)
A man stops the song yelling; ‘’What kind of a voice is that? Are you a woman or a man?! Tell us!’’
Of course, everyone turned to look, wondering what kind of man this was, with such a voice, such a sound. They couldn’t imagine that a woman would have the courage to come into a coffeehouse full of men and sing... It was unheard, how bold, how would she dare! It was impossible back then for a woman to go to a coffeehouse alone and start singing. They would have silenced her right that moment! Though I don’t know how much we can tolerate hearing a woman’s voice nowadays too, but, anyways… While they were thinking, "What is this woman doing here, what’s this voice that sounds like a woman’s’’ But they look at her – tall, with the build and strength of a man... but that delicate, fine voice didn’t fit the appearance of a strong man. Then, whispers started, murmurs: "Who are you, sir? Come on, show us your face, are you a woman or a man, a devil or an angel..." She answered, "I lost my manhood in an accident when I was young, before I even grew up. So, my voice didn’t grow up to be a man... And I have scars on my face from that horrible accident which I’m embarrassed and don’t want to show… Please gentlemen…. Believe me… This voice of mine is the only thing I have now… So please… Let me sing my stories to you… If you don’t like it, just stop me… Just say leave now and I’ll leave… (waits… silence…keeps on singing)
They listened. It was interesting to see a creature like that… A man with a voice of a woman… So different than they know, see and imagine.
Anyways, she wanted to tell... maybe not her own story, but her mother's story, the story of the neighbor's daughter... The story of the neighbor's daughter whom she was madly in love with but could never be with… She wanted to tell how she loved her… How she had to run away from her… How hard it was to have to run away… You want to know her story?? Then, I invite you to come here again next Sunday, this time. Thanks for coming. Hope to see you soon.
There stands a microphone in the cafe, the woman slowly approaches to it and starts to sing the song along that’s been playing there and starts to change the song to ??????? while the song playing slowly fades away.
I’m sorry I love to sing and whenever I see a mic I can not help myself but sing. Did you like the song? Anyone heard it before ? The song is about ‘home’. By the way I have a tattoo it’s a Word it’s home see? (shows to people)
Home. My girlfriend has the same tattoo too. We’ve had it just before I moved here. Two months ago. Alone. Right before I left home… And I haven’t found a place to live yet. So I’m a kind of homeless refugee with a tattoo says ‘’home’’. Funny, right? Hope this joke doesn’t turn into a tragedy. We’ll see…
A song enters..
People always told me that I have a very interesting, very inspiring, very brave decision pattern in life of mine. I never got that. I thought that they were just being polite or trying to get laid. Some of them did though. Anyways, that’s a different story. I don’t want to bore you with my life story but shortly, I’m a 39 years old Turkish woman who studied piano starting from early ages, won the British Royal Academy piano awards, then studied Law faculty, right after graduation, started the Conservatory and graduated the Theatre Department as the first runner. By the time I was at the conservatory I finished my Lawyer Internship and I became a lawyer, but I got bored, and I auditioned for Municipal Theatre of İstanbul and I worked there as an actress for 11 years and I won some best actress awards but anyways I got bored again. I decided to take the Istanbul Conservatory Musical Theatre exams and I got accepted, I did all the voice exercises like lalalalalalal, bbbbbbrrrrrr, ha hi ho, I graduated there too and it was really boring. And then I saw people having Masters, I took my chance and I got accepted to Fontys Academy of the Arts Performing Public Place Masters with a scholarship and I quit my job, moved to Netherlands and now I am here... And people call this life interesting...I never get people…I hope you are that people. Please God please let them be that people… Anyways, I hope I don’t get bored in the middle of my performance… I’ll do my best I swear
What is home? I’ve been looking for the answer of this question for a very long time. I had a lot of homes, or places that I wanted to call home, moved from one to another all the time. I got married at 30, I thought I was in love, but now I realize that it was something I thought I have to do somehow, cause in my family, or even in the culture that I come from, you have to get married, before 30 if possible, ( and starts the domestic violence, how my parents abandoned me when I said I wanted to get divorced, how I restarted my life as a divorced young woman which is not accepted well in my country, how I fallen in love with a woman and how I learned to love and be loved again and how I discovered my sexuality all over again) There are going to be songs that I sing related to the stories I tell, it would be great if I can find someone who plays kanun, kemençe.. if not I’l make a karaoke I guess) I’ll be imitating the characters of my story as a meddah does)
The video of the interview which I used the line ''Those who knew her would say, "Meryem, don't you ever have any worries? You’re always smiling." But in reality, Meryem was afraid. She feared that if she didn't smile, all her secrets would be exposed. That's why she always smiled. She hid her secrets behind her smile.''