Istanbulistan: The anKARA edition

My hometown is bruised. My hometown is bleeding.

Two suicide bombers killed scores at a peace rally in Ankara on Saturday. It appears that as the first bomb went off against a backdrop of singing and dancing youth, the brightest of Turkey, who traveled to the capital from all provinces in tough economic times to demand peace, while the second blast — perhaps more sinister than the first — was positioned along the escape route to ensure maximum damage.

Officials say 97 beautiful hearts and minds descended into eternal darkness, including a 9-year-old. Others claim as many as 128 people may have died. It was the single deadliest terrorist attack in modern Turkey’s 92-year-long battle to distinguish itself from the Middle East…

But then again,

696 is the number of lives we’ve lost since the parliamentary elections on June 7.

Zero is the number of resignations we’ve had.

June 7 was a watershed moment that forced AKP into sharing its unprecedented power after a 13-year free reign that eradicated all of Turkey’s checks and balances, free-ish media and mechanisms for justice. At the current rate of ugliness, we will sacrifice many more lives that once brought joy to their loved ones until the Nov. 1 elections.

In the next three weeks, Turkey will increasingly mimic a banal Middle Eastern cliche. The more we mimic, the more we will resemble the Middle East, hence bringing an abrupt end to this 92-year-long experiment.

Because in the next three weeks, we the people will demand peace, seek answers and call for justice —the most dangerous acts in this geography.

My spirit is broken. In the 17 months since I returned to Turkey, I may have expressed myself more through my tears than smiles.

I haven’t been much of a crier and I am certainly not new to terrorism. I remember the Turkey of the ‘90s and I relive vividly the details of 9/11 on every anniversary, as I watched smoke coming out of the Pentagon from a college dorm room and the Twin Towers crumbling on a TV screen.

What I am new to is this deep sense of detachment from ‘the other,’ or ‘the unfamiliar.’ I see images of fallen limbs and tearless screams shared on social media with celebratory notes.

My countrymen rejoice in the gruesome massacre of their fellow citizens because they are of different persuasions. Just typing this here makes me tear up. How disgusting is that? How deflating, how defeating, how helpless…

I have prided myself on being from Turkey — the ‘not yo typical Middle Eastern/Muslim country’ for nearly all my existence that I don’t know what type of an association I can make with this place anymore.

I demand peace, because I refuse to be another Middle Eastern basket case.

I demand answers, because only then will I know that this state cares not for itself but for its people — regardless of their background or views.

I demand justice, because without justice, there is no healing.

And I want us to heal.