Canımı Yakma !
“Gönül, drowned in the Euphrates… Little Sevgi, stabbed to death in the middle of Urfa by her own father… Rabia, thrown under the tractor in Kısas village… Şemse and her baby in her belly, with four months to go, stoned to death in Mardin – in the name of honour… Güldünya, fetching up in Istanbul running from a death decreed upon her by the family council… Ayşe Paşalı, of the repeatedly ignored applications for a protection order from her violent husband; Ayşe Paşalı of the eyes bruised purple, eyes testifying to the reality of a country even in death… Each and every one a symbolic name…
They, and countless others like them, can’t speak any more. They can’t, even if they wanted to; they can’t exclaim, or yell, ‘See us, don’t forget us!’ They have no voice. Because they’ve been killed.
The tales and essays in this book know what I mean. This was our way of raising awareness. Different signatures, different flavours, different styles, and different ideas; but the same dreams, the same mind and heart, the same conscience and the same ideals…”