I must confess; after being a father to a son for eight-and-a-half years, becoming a father to a baby girl generated indescribably complex feelings in me. When my son Umut Sina was born, I had felt a great sense of excitement and happiness as well, but I had attributed those feelings to becoming a father for the first time. However, I must confess again that although I felt the same degree of excitement and happiness after the birth of my daughter, whom we named Elif Leyla, I had not felt the level of fear and anxiety I experienced following my daughter’s birth after birth of my son.Being instrumental in the birth of a human being, a girl or a boy, gives one a higher degree of responsibility and sensitivity about what sort of environment, country and world he or she will be living in. However, having a daughter in a country like Turkey gives one an almost inexplicable sense of responsibility, fear and concern, as well as making one experience a hard-to-share happiness.
I cannot help getting lost in deep thoughts amid these mixed feelings where my happiness, joy, excitement, concern, anxiety and fears intermingle: I wonder what sort of country Elif Leyla will live in. What sort of world will she face? Will the lifestyle she chooses of her own volition be constantly and ruthlessly meddled by some, as was the case in her mother’s generation? Will she be denied entry to university for whatever ideological reasons because of her choice of lifestyle? To what extent will she be exposed to gender-based discrimination, which is not directed at male students? Will her right to an education, her most natural right, be taken away from her based on arbitrary grounds? Will she be treated as a second-class citizen in some public institutions, the way those who precede her are treated today? For instance, will she hear the same words while trying to enter, say, a military museum: “You cannot enter this building like this”? Will she be able to benefit from or take on service responsibilities in public institutions whatever her lifestyle may be? Or will she live in a Turkey, which has become an affluent country, where she will be treated as a first-class citizen like everyone else who pays their taxes and fulfills their responsibilities as a citizen? Will she be proud of the great distances covered by her country in terms of democracy while reading in textbooks how great the blessings of democracy, human rights and freedoms are, and also reading in utter astonishment and sadness of the circumstances her mother’s generation had to cope with?
Maybe Elif Şafak is right. In a column she penned some days ago for Zaman, she made a very correct statement. Let’s review her words together: “Being the father of a girl radically transforms men in our country, particularly those who live in metropolitan areas. Many men who for the most part of their lives are rigid, authoritarian and patriarchal become more benign, sensitive and emotional. They start questioning the generalizations they made, the rules they set and the habits they acquired. Their harshness toward their wives throughout their marriages, even toward their own mothers and sisters, start ‘melting’ like snow under the sun, thanks to their daughters. Such fathers in turn begin viewing the city they live in from a different angle. They notice how male-dominated the streets are and feel obliged to contemplate the difficulties of being a woman; they do this for the first time and sincerely… They turn more sensitive, more caring and more attentive. And also more anxious… Particularly the fathers of young girls undergo this existentialist transformation.”
Is it possible to disagree with Elif Şafak? As someone who had never been indifferent toward the conditions under which women had to live, I can say that my sensitivities have been sharpened after I became the father of a girl. This sensitivity must stem from the bitter experiences caused by the women in countries like ours who are constantly discriminated against, as well as from the protective reflex we fathers and mothers have toward our otherwise helpless children. I can say this much: My concerns are not about the infancy or childhood of my little baby. On the contrary, they are about the days when she will assert her personal choices as an individual stepping into adulthood, when she will expect her choices to be respected, and the days when she will become a member of society as an adult.
What can I say; May God lead those who lay the groundwork for the practices that give our people such anxiety in their happiest and most exciting days to the right path. This much is certain: History will not forgive those who disturb people in such an unnecessary way instead of combining their efforts with ours to create a more livable country and a more peaceful world.
I hope Elif Leyla lives in a Turkey where she will not need to be worried about her children nor bear any of the worries I have for her.
