Pinar Selek, acrobatic feminism and combat poetry

by Chris­tian Rinau­do and Éric Man­gion

Born in Istan­bul in 1971, Pinar Selek is a Tur­kish wri­ter, socio­lo­gist and acti­vist. Exi­led to France after fleeing the Tur­kish dic­ta­tor­ship and pri­son, she talks to us about her expe­rience, her struggles and her vision of a world in the pro­cess of, in her own words, « rhi­no­ce­ri­sa­tion ». An exclu­sive inter­view with Chris­tian Rinau­do and Eric Man­gion for Switch (on Paper).

Born into a « well-off, lite­rate, white fami­ly », Pinar (pro­noun­ced P’nar) Selek grew up in a liber­ta­rian spi­rit. Her mother’s phar­ma­cy and the fami­ly home were « col­lec­tive homes » where all sorts of per­so­na­li­ties came to debate and remake the world. When Gene­ral Kenan Evren came to power on 12 Sep­tem­ber 1980, her father, a lawyer, was arbi­tra­ri­ly impri­so­ned for 5 years. Pinar Selek spent her youth under the dic­ta­tor­ship. She wrote chil­dren’s sto­ries from an ear­ly age and
enrol­led at Anka­ra Uni­ver­si­ty, but it was on the streets, par­ti­cu­lar­ly with the Tiner­ji (« those who use solvent »), that she real­ly lear­ned how the world wor­ked. These young beg­gars, most­ly drug addicts and pet­ty thugs, gave her a warm wel­come. At the same time, she became invol­ved with pros­ti­tutes and Istan­bul’s LGBTI com­mu­ni­ty. She brought all these people toge­ther in the « Street Artists Work­shop », which she set up with the means at hand in 1995. This in vivo expe­rience would remain the foun­da­tion of her research and thin­king.

Her first books bear wit­ness to this method : Où est le Chia­pas de la Tur­quie ? (1995) (Where is Turkey’s Chia­pas ?) and Masques, cava­liers et nanas. La rue Ülker : un lieu d’ex­clu­sion (2001) (Masks, riders and chicks. Ülker street : a place of exclu­sion). Before the gen­tri­fi­ca­tion of Istan­bul in the 2000s, Ülker Street was the street where trans­sexual pros­ti­tu­tion was concen­tra­ted. Pinar Selek also began to frequent Arme­nian and espe­cial­ly Kur­dish com­mu­ni­ties. She was in turn
impri­so­ned on 11 July 1998, accu­sed of « belon­ging to an ille­gal orga­ni­sa­tion » (in this case the PKK, the Kur­dis­tan Wor­kers » Par­ty), and then of acts of ter­ro­rism. She spent two and a half years locked up and tor­tu­red. Even brui­sed, she conti­nued to explore life in pri­son, the rituals, ges­tures and soli­da­ri­ty she dis­co­ve­red there. Relea­sed on bail, she had to face a trial that was as ini­qui­tous as it was extra­or­di­na­ry, and which is still going on today. In 2003, she co-foun­ded the femi­nist maga­zine Amar­gi, which was deli­be­ra­te­ly open to broa­der issues such as social eco­lo­gy.

Threa­te­ned on nume­rous occa­sions, she reluc­tant­ly left Tur­key on 7 April 2009, first for Ger­ma­ny and then for France. Although it was dif­fi­cult for her to come to terms with her sta­tus as an exile from the out­set, lea­ving her fami­ly and her coun­try behind, she deci­ded to write her first novels, while conti­nuing her research in socio­lo­gy so that she could teach and even become a doc­tor of poli­ti­cal science in 2014. Since then, Pinar Selek has filled her exile eve­ry day with wri­ting, publi­shing, tra­vel­ling and action, as a tire­less cam­pai­gner for a huma­ni­ty she has cho­sen never to des­pair of.

https://www.switchonpaper.com/portrait/artiste/pinar-selek-feminisme-acrobatique-et-poesie-de-combat/





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