Several years after their first testimonial for Lunàdigas, Nalan, a young trans activist, recounts in greater detail their mother’s story, marked by violence, forced marriages and a constant struggle for survival. Through the story of their own childhood, marked by abandonment, the orphanage and trauma, they re-examine their complex relationship with their mother, transforming anger and pain into understanding. Today, through video activism, Nalan conveys a message of self-determination, care and the possibility of collective healing.

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Ecco la trascrizione completa del video:

NALAN: «Action! OK. Hello. Today is my first time in front of the camera, generally I work behind the scenes, having been involved in video editing for a long time. Actually, I haven’t done it in a while; I had to change a little post-pandemic. Now, I have resumed shooting videos with my trusted camera. My name is Nalan. Some people, some of my friends still call me by the name assigned to me at birth. Okay, it’s not a big deal to me. Of course, I much prefer they use Nalan, which I love more and I would like to express my affection for those who do, but someone picked a name for me at birth and I can understand that.
I can somehow understand and see the suffering experienced, both by those who caused it and in my own story, and I try to soothe this pain inside me as much as possible. And in doing so, I’m discovering my transgender identity. I don’t identify as a transgender man or a transgender woman. I simply define myself as a transgender person. I feel outside of these dualities, from the beginning. I have always moved beyond this binary thinking. I mean, I’ve always been transgender and I still am.
I have encountered Lunàdigas in 2020 when I attended the QueerFest and that’s where I saw the documentary which really impressed me. I thought I could tell my mother’s story, but I’d like to start by telling you about myself. I’d like to tell to you a bit about my relationship with video. Since 2014 or 2015, since I took the camera that I’m recording with now, I have been doing video activism. I try to use it as a tool, I do my best to use it for trans people, women and animals. I try to say something to people by making videos as well as I do with painting: I always try to communicate something because at the end of the day everything revolves around communication. I want to tell what happened and as I’m telling it, I try to convey that weight in the least traumatic way possible. I don’t know exactly how to convey that knot in my stomach. I think it’s a collective pain that we all have in common, I think everyone feels some kind of pain, I think we should also be careful when we share it, especially the words we choose and the tone of our voice. I think we should pay the utmost attention, because everyone is perfect in their own way.
My mother is a crazy woman, but, somehow, she has managed to find her way in many places and situations, thanks to her own will. She is a woman who has managed to deal with the problems of her life, that’s why I respect and love her so much. We didn’t actually see each other for many years. That’s her story, obviously, I heard these things from her. I didn’t get permission or approval from her to tell her story, but I know it won’t be a problem if I tell these things. She says: “If they made a movie about me, it would make a great movie”! First of all, I would like to remind you that this is not a happy story, it is a story of struggles, but it’s my mother’s story, and it has the potential for being a happy story, to become a wonderful and special story.
At 16 I think, my mother became a supply teacher. Back then, when they finished high school, it was around the 70s, I think, in Turkey, young people could work, as teachers, in the schools in rural areas. My mother also starts teaching. In that period, she had a good relationship with her father, then her father died, and her mother took charge of the family. I say that because at that time girls were sold to other people and my mother was sold when she was sixteen, for the equivalent of 16,000 Turkish Liras in the currency of that period. They sold her to a man in his forties or fifties, as a second wife, because the man’s first wife, I don’t know if he bought her too or what relationship they had, she couldn’t have children, I think for physiological reasons. So, as a second option, the man decided to buy a girl. My mother was therefore removed from the school where she taught and was sent to this person as a wife.
I’m talking about culture of the Black Sea region, the culture of the northern part of Turkey, of its inland regions, I’m talking about rural areas away from the city. At least the place where my mother was born and where she spent her childhood, a mountainous place that is difficult to reach. From there, she was sent to a city called Tokat, and there she arrived home as a bride. There were strange and interesting customs that my mother told me about, customs that are observed when a bride arrives at her new home. For some time, I don’t know exactly how long this period lasts, for three months or so, during this time she can’t talk, mainly in the presence of her father-in-law. Only if her husband asks her something then she can answer, in fact, at that point it’s her duty. When I say “her duty”, my mother’s duty was to serve her husband, which also involved doing housework. Of course, even the first wife lived in the same house. They were living together, they did the cleaning, the housework, they work in the fields.That woman taught my mother a lot, in a way, she had a bond that connected her to my mother.
Over the years, she gave birth to three children: two female and one male, or at least this is the sex assigned at birth. However, my mother gave birth to her first child at the age of 17, she lifted her into her arms, that is, she takes a “baby” in her arms whose assigned gender is female. “My first love”, my mother says when she talks about her. Then she gave birth to Fatoş, her second child. I met my older sister only when I was fourteen. I was unaware of their existence for a long time, because what I’m saying are events related to my mom’s first wedding. After Fatoş, another baby was born who will be called Ömer. At some point, I think mom was sent away, or I don’t know, maybe I should ask her. Anyway, she left, maybe she couldn’t stand the situation, she couldn’t live like this. I’m not sure if she ran away, but it’s possible she decided to do it. Yes, yes, she decided to flee, because, as she said, she took Fatoş, her second child, with her, she took it and went back to her mother’s house. The daughter instead was taken from my mother and sent back to the father.
My mother then married my father. She was put on a bus, and my father paid 16,000 lire again, with a money order sent to my grandmother. They basically sold my mother twice! She married my father and moved to Çanakkale. At that time, my father was living in a beautiful village, where women supported each other and where they looked after one another. At that time, my father was a shepherd. Then after a while I was born, and up to three years our relationship wasn’t too bad. Then of course, things changed. My mother began to suffer abuse at the hands of my father, she began to be mistreated, and also had a psychological breakdown after I was born. She tried to leave several times, but every time she tried, my father brought her back home. She was beaten so violently that she ended up in hospital. He promised every time that it would never happen again, that he would never hit her again, but it went on like this and in the end… Even though it was difficult, they got divorced and I was placed in my mother’s care, but my father categorically refused to give me to my mother. I remember once, after a hearing, in the middle of the road, my father beat my mother… I remember he took me away from my mother, and brought me to their place and they left me in that house. I remember being abandoned to myself. My mother left, then came back, she made up with my father and he took her back. We started living together in a house, in a place far from our village, from our acquaintances and relatives. I remember one episode, my mother remembers it too, better than me: my father picked me up and locked my mother inside the house. I was leaving with my father, we travelled by bus and car and I saw that my father was afraid that my mother would take me away. If my mother took me away, the family would fall apart. I think it’s a fear of that sort, even if I’m not sure, but it was my father’s fear; it shouldn’t have anything to do with me. He took me away and left my mother locked in the house. My mother says that there was nothing to eat in the house, that she was completely alone, locked inside, and spent a lot of time alone at home.
Then, something happened: downstairs, there was a group of people, there were men, people recognizable as men, working with their trucks and animals, going back and forth transporting animal skins. They realize that my mother was in a bad situation there, and helped her by giving her food or something like that, they brought her something to eat, and then they said to her: “Sister, they’re holding you prisoner, we can take you away if you have somewhere to go”. At first, my mother couldn’t think of anything. My mother’s family consists of her brother and his family. There are two women, Aunt Ayşe and Aunt Necmiye, I call aunties, they were the women I loved the most ever since I was a kid. They came to my mother’s mind, and she said: “My brother’s wife lives in Istanbul. I have friends there. I can go to them, if you’ll take me”. They told her to get ready and they would pick her up in the evening. Mom said it was okay. When it got dark, they arrived, took my mother on the truck and brought her up to a certain point, leaving her at the bus terminal and asked her if she had money to buy a bus ticket. Mom said: “I don’t have any money”. “No problem,” the man said. He gave her the money for the ticket. My mother said: “God bless you. Goodby”. And she got on a bus at a provincial station and travelled to Istanbul, experiencing a big city for the first time. I really enjoyed hearing this story, I recognize myself. Let’s say all the doors were locked, she was alone and hopeless, and then she was at the bus station of Esenler, in Istanbul, alone.
Then suddenly, a friend of her father arrived, who worked for a bus company at the local bus station. She went to him and said: “I’m Emine, you’re my father’s friend .” He said, “Yes, I recognize you,.You’re Salih’s daughter”. He called a taxi for my mother and she gave him an address. She took the taxi, because it’s complicated with the bus, as buses have different names, Istanbul has a European and an Asian side. He said she had to cross over and she didn’t understand what it meant. My mother told me that that person put her in a cab, paid for her ride, she had the address and left. Suddenly, she arrived at a place where there were two other women and I guess they hugged afterwards, because, as my mom used to say, she had lived there long and no one ever told her to leave or anything like that. They took care of her until she found a job, in such a way that felt safe.
Then, my mother met someone, they started living together, they were in a relationship and came back to pick me up in the village, because she has always thought of me, she always thought of taking me to Istanbul. I lived with my mother for about three years, then she started having health problems and at some point, she decided to leave me in an orphanage. To summarize the matter: my mother came to pick me up with the man she married after my father, where she had left me. It was the first time in my life that I saw Istanbul, I got to visit the city. It was a very long journey, with my mother, there was also her third husband that she had married at that time, and another woman who was his sister. They took me away from there, I think I was 6. At first, when we arrived in Istanbul, everything was fine. After a while, my mother separated from that man due to some serious incompatibility. My mother wanted to leave him because he had been violent with her. There was a violent episode, I won’t go into too much detail, as a result of which my mother spent a lot of time in the hospital. Other people, other women took care of me. Then, my mother was discharged from the hospital as she was healed. After living with her for a while, she told me: “I can’t take care of you right now, neither physically, nor financially. I don’t have the strength to take care of you. I think I’ll send you to an orphanage. What do you make of this”? She asked me a very direct question. I think I was eight or nine and I said: “All right, Mom. I want you to be okay. I can go there. You can stay here. When you’ve recovered, you’ll come and get me”. After that, I went to an orphanage and I was abandoned there, even though she said she was coming to pick me up after six months.
There are some characters in this story, for example my father, or my mother’s third husband, who might arouse certain emotions in the listener, such as hatred, for example, or anger. At this point in my life, I don’t feel this way about anyone, because from another perspective, I can see what my father went through, or what the other person might have gone through. It was very difficult for me too, having lived through all this. Fortunately, I can tell you now these things without hatred or anger and I can explain.
It all started with the orphanage, my mother left me there and I started to wait for her. My mother was supposed to pick me up from the orphanage after six months. The orphanage is a very difficult place, at some point it’s like the State becomes your parent and that can sometimes be very hard. Actually I don’t mean it was acceptable, but alone there, you can learn some things. And when my mother didn’t come to get me at the end of the six months, I remember trying for the first time a strong anger towards her, because she should have come to pick me up and she couldn’t be there for me when I needed her most. Looking at it from his point of view, it was a novelty in her life: for the first time she began to be herself. When she occasionally came to visit me, she looked good. And since she seemed fine, obviously I felt better too If my mother was getting better, it meant that at some point she’d come to pick me up from there. Instead, she remarried! And she didn’t marry a bad person, she married a good person, but, somehow, he didn’t want to include me. I think I can understand that, at least in part.
This is no longer just my mother’s story; it turns into a story about me and my mother. Although it might seem like a break-up story, I don’t feel it as a separation, right now, because now I see clearly that my mother didn’t choose to give birth to me. Just like she didn’t choose to give birth to her other children. She did her best with what she’s been given, but at some point, she remembered of herself and remarried. Maybe it was her way of fighting, maybe… perhaps her way of taking revenge on men or on society. Perhaps a form of revenge for being forced to have children. No one should be forced to do that. And it’s really important for me to understand that. Okay. No problem. I love my mother too.
Later, I changed the orphanage where I was staying. I’ve changed a lot of schools during that semester, I’ve met a lot of teachers, I’ve met a lot of friends. I’m pretty sure that also my mother at that time had many relationships with different men. I was fine with that. At a certain point, I stopped seeing and talking to my mother, because during adolescence you feel a lot of anger. I was furious, especially after an episode of sexual violence that happened to me. I called my mother and told her to pick me up. She also came with him, but she didn’t take me away, that made me angrier, it increased my resentment towards her at that time. But who knows what she was struggling with at the time? I mean, after years in the orphanage, when it was all over, I was able to stand on my legs and when I couldn’t do it anymore, I went to my mother. She told me clearly that I could have stayed there but that I should have to find a job to contribute to household expenses and I accepted. We lived together for a while, then at some point we fought again, then we made peace again, but we stayed separate for eight or nine years.
We haven’t talked or seen each other for a long period, which has really worn us both down but then we made peace again. This is our story, by the way, we talk now, we speak on the phone. By the way, she remarried again. I think she got married a couple more times. By “married” I mean living together with the person you’re with. I’m sure that living together taught her a lot, I had the opportunity to meet some of them, I was able to see how they were able to transform each other. And I keep seeing her now, on the other hand.
I would like to say that in the end of our separation, after a long time of about eight years, I started doing video activism, to make videos. I met “Pembe hayat” (Pink life), I went to the QueerFest, I got to know Lunàdigas through this film festival and I understood things more clearly, really, that the point is not if my mother was wrong or right, it was her choice to make. Even my identity, including my gender identity, thanks to this medium it has become in a formative experience. So, considering all of this, I finally said okay! I also told my mother that I’m fine. Looking at this carefully, we are good like this. At least, I’m fine now.
I am currently continuing with the production of video and I’ll keep doing it. And I think everything will be fine. I hope at some point, that we’ll be able to talk about things that I didn’t share with my mother before. And maybe I can explain things more clearly, I’ll be able to tell. From here, I send my affection to everyone and I want to tell my mother too, if she’ll watch this: “You make beautiful whatever you touch, you did the best you could. just too much emotional manipulation! I advise you to avoid too much drama. I love you for who you are, not because you’re my mother”. Now, I can tell this story without crying, talking about it calmly, without feeling guilty and for that I want to congratulate with myself.
People have the right to self-determination, no one should be forced to be together or to get married, following the wishes of their families. No one deserves to live like this, everyone is perfect and wonderful in their own way, especially my mother. Everyone is special in their own way, no one should be forced to do anything, to have children. It should not be allowed. People can have children, if they want to, but when they have them, they need to know that they are a very special thing. And no one deserves to be forced. Nobody deserves it. Nobody.
I would like this pressure and injustice to cease as soon as possible, I would like it to end all over the world and build a more beautiful, more united and freer life. I would like to build a new world and at the same time protect animals and the environment around us. We need to protect trees and nature, aware that they are also part of it. I think it’s right to continue like this, as far as I’m concerned. I hope this form of dominance ends, so that no one is obligated to get married and be in a relationship. And if you get married, it doesn’t mean that the relationship should continue. No woman should be forced to have children if she doesn’t want to.
I don’t know if “having children” is the right word, maybe “give birth”. We can understand the moment where a story ends, or the moment when they go through dark, uncertain and difficult phases. But we can heal ourselves, we can be reborn, we’ve always done this and we will continue to do so. If the theme is love, we can teach each other to love, and if we’ve forgotten how to love, we can help each other remember how to.
We can protect stray animals in distress, we can open our houses to those who are most in need, if we can. I hope that we’ll find the strength, inside of us, to fight this all together. And surely no one should be forced into marriage and no child should be left in this situation.
We are nobody’s property. We exist, and we will continue to exist and fight, in conflict situations, we will continue to take care of each other and to heal each other. It’s a process that will continue like this, and I know that at some point there will come a positive moment, a point of healing for all of us, will turn into a healing process and we will learn to love in this way.»

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