
Because we don't view the "well-intentioned" actions taken on our behalf and despite us as favors for which we should be grateful, we don't see the withdrawal of structural solidarity from our dominance as a loss, and we are not worried about it.
This interview arose from the discussion opened by Meral Sözen's article titled "Our Great Solidarity," published on bianet. This encounter, which began through an interview I conducted in the field of children's literature, might at first glance seem like a critique-response relationship.
However, my readings and knowledge gained from the concept of solidarity quickly pointed to a deeper question: Can narratives constructed with good intentions unknowingly reproduce a discriminatory language?
In Sözen's writings, solidarity often appears not only as a matter of individual attitudes but also as a structural issue reproduced through language, representation, and narrative patterns. Sözen particularly wants to draw attention to the fact that narratives constructed with the aim of "protection," "empathy," or "raising awareness," especially in texts for children, sometimes risk reinforcing hierarchical relationships. This situation necessitates a rethinking of both the authors' production process and the forms of criticism directed at the text.
This interview, therefore, does not claim to be a text of defense or opposition. On the contrary, I seek to explore the tension arising around a children's literature text within a broader conceptual framework, offering an opportunity for collaborative thinking. The limits of criticism, the responsibility of production, and the issue of representation in children's literature will form the main axes of this conversation.
My aim is not to keep the discussion of ableism on a personal level, but to make this concept part of an effort to create a more inclusive and pluralistic language in children's literature. Therefore, I hope you will read this interview as an invitation to encounter and dialogue.
"Ableism as a Form of Systematic Discrimination"
Could you tell us a little about yourself for those who want to get to know you?
As a blind woman activist living in Istanbul, I work both individually and organizationally for equal and co-existence. After graduating from Philosophy and Turkish Language and Literature departments, the "language-thought connection" became my special area of interest. Thank you for your invitation, which gives me the opportunity to better understand/explain the concept of steadfastness, which is the subject of this interview.
When did the concept of steadfastness first enter your life? What kinds of changes did you experience after encountering this concept?
The word "steadfastness" entered my life less than ten years ago. However, I can say that my awareness of the situations this concept points to was a process that spanned almost my entire life; starting with feeling "There's something absurd here" in my childhood, later expressing it as "injustice/inequality/discrimination," and finally understanding that this was "steadfastness" as a systematic form of discrimination. Of course, after naming this form of discrimination, I also realized that it was extremely structural and characteristic. Thus, the struggle against steadfastness became more consistent and targeted for me.
"We are not indebted to domination"
You say that steadfastness is often invisible in well-intentioned narratives, such as gender inequality. How can we discern whether texts written with the aim of raising awareness or fostering empathy unintentionally produce a hierarchical relationship?
Distinguishing hierarchical language and ableism in a narrative is no more difficult than distinguishing racism or sexism. Of course, we need to be sure that we are not actually establishing a hierarchy in any way between people with disabilities and those without. For example, most people who come across an interview with a male author who claims to raise awareness about women's issues and who also uses the phrase "our women" will immediately recognize the problem. The question I'm trying to answer is why this isn't immediately apparent when the same example is applied to people with disabilities.
In our country, children's literature, in particular, is threatened by censorship and, unfortunately, self-censorship that develops spontaneously in such an atmosphere. Given this situation, I believe we need to support authors' efforts to make visible topics that haven't been sufficiently addressed. Especially in these initial encounters, and moreover, based solely on an interview without reading the text, what are your thoughts on the possibility that harsh criticism might lead to self-censorship, or even that authors might stop writing about this topic altogether, making the subject completely invisible?
I would be very pleased if authors who approach the subject in a pragmatic way, in response to harsh criticism, were to decide to stop addressing it altogether, rather than considering it a constructive contribution. Because a narrative that reinforces and reproduces the patterns we are trying to break down not only fails to contribute to the visibility we desire, but unfortunately also harms our efforts. In such a situation, our rights are violated in many instances.