One joke, a thousand apologies

Apologizing is a sign of greatness. Much like tolerance... The subject is a joke, our new agenda. Let me say it upfront; even when I think about it independently of its origin, as a woman, I could not tolerate it. 

Of course, Rahmi Koç is very valuable to our country, and I have infinite respect for him. Even being ninety-five years old is enough in itself to deserve tolerance. The time one has lived is as great as what one has achieved. Taking refuge in his tolerance, I could not help but write about it. 

Because a joke is never just a joke. 

In my eyes, this and similar jokes are a blend of a patriarchal perspective—independent of age, lifestyle, or culture—with a view toward another origin. 

The woman in that same joke is sometimes Turkish, sometimes Kurdish, sometimes Fadime. 

I believe we are facing a blend worse than the most dangerous narcotics. A blend injected intravenously, seeping into our blood, wanting to divide our souls from within. 

Beyond that, even further, is the laughter of three or four men over a depiction of a woman… A sound that rises with the participation of a few women in the room, out of a sense of duty. 

Since this blend is produced and consumed in much more intense forms every evening at "men-only" tables, I am writing from a woman's perspective. Without expecting any tolerance from the men who make up fifty percent of society, and even being certain that they will go on the defensive, I ask with a woman's sensitivity: what were they laughing at?: 

What was funny in this joke?… The woman's naivety? 

I returned just yesterday from Van, where I was invited for an art workshop. I am writing this with the admiration of the incredible scenery created by the friendship and side-by-side existence of Lake Van and Mount Süphan on the shores of an inland sea. I am writing having observed a tradition that approaches the woman nearby with respect. 

I take my hat off to my beautiful country, from east to west. I understand so well those who cast their eyes on this beauty… They have become confused about what to make others say. They have become confused about what to make this society believe.

Vehbi Koç, the first industrialist of Atatürk's Republic, which placed great value on women, named his first automobile ANADOL. We are all on ancient lands in Anatolia, in the home of countless civilizations. We are living in a miraculous time. 

I ask: Why should we not remain within the compassionate, tolerant, and unifying spirit of Anatolia in this great house? 

Why should we not reach from the mother goddess in Çatalhöyük in 7000 B.C. to the Phrygians who made her "Cybele" in 1200 B.C., and from there to Rome, and then to the Black Sea with the Amazon women? 

Why should we not look again at the WOMAN—who is the symbol of sovereign power alongside the abundance, fertility, and productivity in the name of Anatolia—with this perspective? 

Why should we remain silent against the "male" language and "masculine" management style that sees women as ignorant, passive, and secondary, and makes them the subject of their jokes? 

And why should we remain on the agenda of the "divisive" mind that wants to separate us in this great house? 

How beautiful was Süphan, where the sun could not bear to melt its snows... Let us go and purify our souls once again with the soda waters of Lake Van.