January
21, 2017, Berkeley: I am
out on the streets with hundreds of conscientious citizens of all skin colors
and background, mostly women. It is a coldish bright day. I am awkward with
marches but the number of strollers and friendly officers eased my initial
intimidation. Coming from Istanbul, peace and human rights’ marches make me
apprehensive. We’ve got a lot in our hands today, not just the women’s rights.
Simple math indicates that the U.S. President can cause more damage on this
planet and its people than the Turkish one. We are well aware of the
intersectionalities so we also march for immigration and healthcare reform,
environmentalism, LGBTQ rights, racial equality, and freedom of religion. It is
peaceful and powerful. Let the forever-cynics who chose not to be with us today
make grumpy faces and criticize, it’s in their nature, don’t get too mad unless
they voted for Mr. T. I am glad to be part of the largest single-day protest in
U.S. history. Raspberry-colored pussy hats and tops mark the day, reminding us
the empowerment in humor. What an excellent color choice to brighten the gloomy
White House and days of January!
***
August
27, 2017, San Francisco: I
don’t expect anything out of ordinary but remain a staunch believer of miracles
in my daily life after surviving the second biggest earthquake ever recorded
(7,6) in Turkish history in August 1999. And how many times did I escape terror
attacks in the past two years as a frequent flier and public transportation
user before moving to California? Every day, I open my eyes, check my body and
five senses in awe, and thank God that I am back to life after the small death
called sleep. This blissful state usually ends with connecting to the Internet
and/or turning on the phone. However, this morning, my awe lingers with the following
email:
Dear Ozlem:
The IPJ has established a new residency
series with Hedgebrook, in which Peacemakers and/or Immigrant Writers
would have the opportunity to spend one week on Whidbey Island, to reflect and write about their
work, and simply have some time away from their hectic lives. We are
extending an exclusive invitation to you as part of our Women PeaceMakers
network. Through this all-expenses-paid
experience, you will have your own personal living space and the days
will be largely up to your own design, with the exception of communal evening
meals so that you have time and space to work on your own writing. This is a
unique opportunity from Hedgebrook, as typically a writing residency there
involves a very competitive application process. Please let me know if this is something you would be interested in. I'm really excited to extend this
invitation and hope you can accept the opportunity for this inaugural year of
our partnership with Hedgebrook.
Emiko Noma | Senior
Editor and Writer
Joan B. Kroc Institute for Peace and Justice
University
of San Diego
I read the email twice to make sure that
the dates on the screen is right. I need to move out on October 10th from where I
live in SF. I was already planning to travel to British Columbia afterward,
have some campus meetings, and explore the area before flying to Athens to
continue my work with displaced Syrians in November. I accept the offer.
***
Raspberry is a miraculous source for toning
the muscles of the pelvic region, including the uterus itself. It helps lessen
or eliminate menstrual cramps and makes for an easier and faster birth. Its
leaves contain vitamins C, E, A, B complex and minerals like magnesium,
potassium, phosphorus, manganese, selenium and easily assimilated calcium and
iron. In short, raspberry leaf is the best base available for prenatal and
postpartum teas.
***
October
2017: One of the
definitions of Hedgebrook’s notion of “radical hospitality” is “the complete
permission to receive and to write, unapologetically” (Ruth Ozeki); however, I
am positive that each participant has her own definition. In my culture, you
offer the best possible means that your time and space provide for the
guest/guests with whom you are blessed. Blood-relation is not prioritized; in
fact, you mobilize your family and friends for better service to the visitor.
“God’s guest/Tanrı misafiri” is the term for a perfect stranger signaling that
the visitor can be an envoy from God. The first thing I was taught at home was
how to make and customize Turkish coffee for each guest (its thickness, amount
of sugar, and frothiness). I wasn’t allowed to drink coffee at the age of five,
but made sure to ask anyone who came to our house. After hearing it a million
times, I was convinced that “a cup of coffee leads to forty years of friendship
and memories,” as the proverb goes. The statement didn’t sound all that radical
until I began traveling abroad.
With its place on the map and its climate,
Hedgebrook differed radically from the whereabouts of the hospitality I have
taken for granted, that is, the entire Mediterranean region & the Middle
East. Whidbey Island was green, cool,
and rainy, but the welcoming staff of Hedgebrook were the warmest and kindest
imaginable. Even the wild blackberries were welcoming, safe to eat and tattooed
one’s fingertips creatively. Then, there was the H-Garden; unlatching its gate
and helping ourselves with anything was part of our orientation. I opted for
the exotic, and thus picked raspberries for the first time in my life. The week
also marked my peacemaking with them in this natural habitat; I was able to
discard all connotations that I had harbored since January 21, 2017. That they
were the most delicious and freshest raspberries helped the reconciliation
process! I thus strip the word “radical” from the phrase “radical hospitality”
and offer it to the sweet raspberries who were modestly dressed in morning dew
and nothing else.
However, here is the problem with
Hedgebrook residents. As writers, we make up stuff, embellish every object and
living creature with words. We hardly leave anything in its pure form. At least,
as the immigrant writers’ group, we try to be careful with colonizing the
language. Nevertheless, morning dew as a thin and transparent garment is too
provocative for me, especially after reading an article on raspberries dressed
up in fancy scientific material. Their thorny leaves are hailed as the best
base for prenatal and postpartum teas, and the fruit itself as reducing cramps and serving as a midwife for an easier and faster birth?
How can I possibly resist the metaphor of a writer’s giving birth to creative
works or the humorous picture in my imagination: The radical hospitality is
providing buckets of raspberries so that the self-midwifery taking place in the
cottages becomes more widespread among writers, who are pregnant with ideas and
images? Be my guest to trace the metaphor further and enjoy word games on
hospitality over hospitalization especially if you are an eco-feminist in favor
of midwifery.
P.S: This is only a fragment of my Hedgebrook
experience magnified due to a politicized bright colored fruit grown in the H.
Garden and served at our communal dinners. Each and every one of you who made
this experience possible: Thank You!
Özlem
Ezer
