The Orientalists among us

According to the Orientalist setup, the East is a subject that has to be learned and designed by Western subjects. As Orientalists define the East as being a land of backwardness and disabilities, they emphasize the cliché of "the oppressed woman" based on the imagery of the harem. Orientalism indicates prejudiced interpretations of Eastern cultures and peoples coming from an outside source. The art, literature and lifestyle of the East, according to the Orientalist approach, are deemed exotic and lesser in comparison with the classic Greco-Roman ideals.

Secret Orientalism, however, is extremely unaware. It has a vague certainty about what the East entails. The East is seen as eccentric, backward minded, different, sensual and passive. It is prone to despotism and far from development. Conclusions reached about its development and virtues are always in comparison with the West and phrased in wording using Western terminology. The East is always the other, it is lesser and ready to be conquered. It displays a feminine penetrability and an indifferent form of submission.

As I read Ayşe Arman's impressions about the segment of society to which she refers as the “other neighborhood,” I literally felt the judgmental/humiliating style employed by 19th century Orientalists who somehow ended up visiting Ottoman soil, the Middle East or Asia which shows that the traveler is shocked at every step they take. Arman, who managed to increase her fame all the more by posing scantily clad in pictures only a few weeks ago, managed to draw all the attention to herself by covering her body from head to toe. Indeed, one has to congratulate Arman, who knows no taboos or borders when it comes to being in the limelight, for this achievement.

However, I should express that I find the impressions she acquired in a covered-up disguise in that other neighborhood, which she believes to be at least a few notches down from the neighborhood that she belongs to (we can call this the “White Turk neighborhood” as it is popularly known), not half as innocent as her unclothed pictures. Her approach debasing the lifestyle and behavioral patterns of more than 70 percent of Turkish people and approaching women who are covered and, through them, conservative segments of society, with the air of a missionary of enlightenment with a feeling of the “white man's burden” responsibility felt by 19th century Europeans toward black Africa is as nauseating as it is irritating.

The feelings of Arman regarding the sort of swimsuit conservative women wear on public beaches, I think, have the same emotion felt by us in response to her writing style: “My reflection in the mirror makes me burst into laughter. I am a Ninja Turtle! My comicality cannot be described. The cruelty that I am being subject to is called the hashema. I am wearing it right now. I am lost under layers of clothing. There is a pair of tights around my legs; the kind worn by dancers. On top of that, I'm wearing a long-sleeved leotard that wraps underneath with snap fasteners. There is an under scarf cap on my head and a hood over that. I am like a sausage. I am about to explode!”

You should hear the impressions of a holiday resort preferred by the conservative segments that she wrote about, which draw out a harem scene from an Orientalist view. “We feel our first shock at the pool. Here's what we see, there are women who sunbathe topless near the pool, there are ones in monokinis. We are like ‘Wow!' I don't know, when you see such sexiness underneath those clothes that cover from head to toe, it is somewhat surprising.”

“At the bar, we are quietly drinking coffee. And then the second shock. They start playing Serdar Ortaç and oriental dance tunes. All of those women get out of the water, get up from their beach chairs and start doing the belly dance. Women from all ages. Hands are clapping, hips and bells gyrating. Oh my God, they are approaching us. They want us to join. We, two Ninja Turtles, do not know what to do. We are both belly-dance challenged. We say, ‘We would love to, but we've got to run,' and we run. Don't get me wrong, I am not judging them. This neighborhood is that neighborhood.”

And there you have the “enlightened Ayşe's burden.” “Suddenly, I imagine myself dragging all those women into rebellion: Don't you see what these men are doing to you? Why should they get the best of everything? Object, rebel, threaten them and exchange the pools. Don't suffice with that, make them wear these hashemas. Tell them that you will become abstinent. Let the men swim in these miniature pools in their hashemas.”

Your jaws drop when you read Arman's impressions from İstanbul's Fatih neighborhood, which has become the clichéd “other neighborhood” in the mouths of the White Turks. How amazing, the hairdressers of this neighborhood also comb hair just like the other hairdressers in normal neighborhoods. Arman says so: “Fatih is like our house. We have got used to being there, we go there very frequently. When we do not go there, we feel ourselves anxious. We are again in Fatih and realizing a first again. We are going to a beauty salon which works on a fatwa. Since I have never been to such a beauty salon before, I say “ok.” There is plucking of eyebrows and waxing here. It is the funniest and most entertaining place in the world. Women with tattoos and wearing tank tops are working here; I later learn that all these women are covered. They actually work like a normal hairdresser, do whatever you can think of. In addition to all the beauty procedures, they also design headscarves.”

There is the issue of Arman being very much surprised upon learning very basic religious knowledge, which she easily learnt from a religious book from the residents of the “other neighborhood,” which I do not even want to dwell on. She asks questions, she gets amazed and conveys her amazement to her readers as if she has never lived in Turkey and is an alien who has just come to Turkey from Krypton.