Is Homicide of Women Being Legalized in Turkey?

ozgecan-aslan-yakilarak-oldurulmus-halde-bulundu [Photo Credit:]

The news has been visited this past week by Turks and non-Turks alike time and again under fiery captions since the murder of the young woman in the picture above. Terms like “brutal” or “cruel” are, to me, overused, hence unfortunately, misused referents. I, therefore, opt out from relying on such language. In fact, I choose to leave it up to you, dear readers, to form your own opinion through a synthesis of related information – some of which I provide below. I, myself, remain in grave sorrow over the strikingly intensified violence against and the rapidly increasing numbers in homicide of women in Turkey. I thus join countless others, living in or outside the country, in their equally fast growing disgust and outrage over the Turkish government’s approving silence in the face of primal dismissals of a woman’s right for a life.

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you probably were as unique of a soul as donned by your name of birth

not merely distinctive but a daredevil as well

it is being said you resisted being raped: what a feat…

yet three men ambushing you is not even for a man a fair defeat 

the word is out now: the entire country is crying over your death

a preposterous claim!

what fairy tale can dare to allege a country is made of the female alone?


even a fantasy land would have to have a leading hand

© hülya n. yılmaz, February 22, 2015

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Related Links:

Turkey’s Murder Rate of Women Skyrockets

The Journal of Turkish Weekly


BBC News – Turkey rallies over murder of woman who resisted rape

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…singing of your love…

Image for barbwired


escape from your caress eludes me

scabs grow fresh wounds anew

i thus await the last fall of flesh

© hülya n yılmaz – March 10, 2014

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come bottle your thirst put it aside

let us pass by a number of seasons

when you are ready lift the crack

the rain will obey no doubt

© hülya n yılmaz – March 16, 2014

Image for drought

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…the dance of my life…

POSTED.image for ölümü düşünüyorum

[Photo Courtesy: My daughter. My grandson is over a year old now. Out of my respect for his parents’ private sphere, any of his photos I post are either old or don’t show him in full.]






the dance of my life


the story used to form fast on the tip of my parents’ tongues

extended family ever so ready to join in the retelling

a natural dancer with a spry passion apparently i was

with or imagined music – it would not matter

full attention of whoever did routinely gather

ample laughter a loving audience were always alive

not even a single beat without me had any chance to thrive


in later years when that early joy came back from the dead once or twice

i submitted to the music’s magic however in full disguise

both joys then ceased to be for as long as i can remember

becoming an adult was no easy feat after all…

birthdays rushed one after another at their racing speed


i am now graced with a delightful grand baby

he, too, may dance on his own one day…maybe

if not, the loss will be great and only mine

for he once poured into me a dance of the divine


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…a grandmother’s love…

IMG_2353 [Photo: Own picture of own backyard]


the first snow of the new year was tap-dancing

before my once-a-baby house guest was ready to rise

he and i spent the long night in and around his stroller

then at dawn he fell deeply asleep on my good shoulder

his head slided down in slow motion on my fast aged chest

in selfish longing i missed him throughout his sweet slumber

the drifting away of the riffs, cracks, aches from my body and soul


i then kept silent in peace awaited his awake moments

inhaled once again his immediate eager smile upon waking up

his darling laughter deep inside his mommy’s bluest blue eyes

his non-stop kissable huggable tummy arms fingers and feet

his here there and everywhere twisting curls on his golden head…



we locked our eyes in each other’s once again

another whole-face smile grew and grew on his baby-bird-mouth

this time wide open though away from me ready only to drink her mommy love


© hülya n. yılmaz – December 19, 2014












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…happiness of innocence, or, innocent happiness…

Last week, I ran into a news summary from Turkey. If the source is not citing from a hoax, a new Turkish tribe has been discovered. The references to these nomadic Turks differ between “Reindeer Turks”, “Dukha Turks”,”Old Turks” and “Lost Turks” (and probably with more names to come, as they are apparently under the lenses of diligent studies by various groups). As soon as I viewed the available (Turkish) documentaries – one of which I am sharing with you today, my long-time quest for signs in adults of hard-core innocence and happiness found its niche. For what is said about these ‘lost’ humans translates, to me, into an effective formula of enhancement, if not survival, for our so-called modern-day humanity: belief in equality in all aspects of their life and in lack of distinction between the genders; conviction of sharing as norm; free-spiritedness; heightened sensitivity and practiced care to preserve nature (not even washing their hands in a river for fear of polluting it). Under the influence of what I have first read, then seen several times and finally registered in the depth of my being, I am tempted to conclude that I belong to those truly lost yet wish to fuse into the newly found supposedly ‘lost’ ones…


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A book is…

“What an astonishing thing a book is. It’s a flat object made from a tree with flexible parts on which are imprinted lots of funny dark squiggles. But one glance at it and you’re inside the mind of another person, maybe somebody dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, an author is speaking clearly and silently inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people who never knew each other, citizens of distant epochs. Books break the shackles of time. A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic.”


I had run into the statement above by Carl Sagan a while ago, and saved it on my laptop inside my “Pending” files. Pending deliberations. Pending writings. Pending contemplations. And so on. My many posts on my blog site are proof enough – as you would agree, how fond I am of citing quotes from famous individuals. Or better yet, of making sense of my life’s various aspects with the help of those with wisdom to whose voiced experiences I end up connecting on various existential levels. Sagan’s enthusiastic manifestation of love for writing and reading had absolutely no chance escaping my attention. So, here it comes to you in the hope that we will infinitely succeed in “working magic.”  


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Have you considered the possibility of living with the bare minimum but doing so literally – with no *indulgences we have been taught to seek? Under the obvious and imminent but still sweet pressure of time’s scheduled visit with us all?  (*I bear no intent to a religious context here.)

“It was a favorite expression of Theophrastus that time was the most valuable thing that a man could spend.” ~ Diogenes


Do we – as humanity at large and as its influential members – handle time, the only irreplaceable gift of living in the most befitting matter? What are the consequences of our related choices on humans on a large scale and on one person?   

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