A wonderful piece by Gülse Birsel I’ve always said that when we were kids, if we felt nauseous, they’d give us bread; if we had the flu, they’d say, “Just lie down, it’ll pass”; if our heads hurt, they’d say, “Children don’t get headaches”; if we couldn’t sleep, they’d tell us, “Think about your toys, you’ll have sweet dreams”—and that was how things were resolved! If you couldn’t learn to read and write, you were either “lazy” or “learning slowly but surely.” If you were a sad child, they’d say, “He’ll probably become a writer”; if you couldn’t sit still or kept causing trouble, you’d get a slap and then sit quietly. In my opinion, those were the peak years of pedagogy. Because later on, after running and playing, a child who coughed was labeled “asthmatic”; if struggling to learn reading and writing, “dyslexic”; if sad, “depressed”; if overly active, “hyperactive”—and those children raised under such labels have now grown up! What became of them after all that attention and concern? Emo! What is Emo? You know those teenagers—has been around for five or six years now—with hair combed forward to cover one eye, looking pitiful, with gloomy faces, dark circles under their eyes, skinny frames, tight pants, Converse shoes, and black eyeliner? They sit on the sidewalks in Taksim. Ah, those are Emos! It’s said the word “Emo” comes from “emotional,” and these kids are supposedly deeply troubled, insecure, and emotional—so much so that they couldn’t adapt to society and thus adopted this style. Back in our day we had punk—similar movement—but this is something even worse than punk! I RUINED EVERYONE’S MOOD Oh no! Back then, when I was a teenager and this trend didn’t even exist yet in the world, I went through a 10-day phase of being emo! I don’t remember what was wrong with my head, but for those 10 days—during summer vacation—I wandered from corner to corner of the house with damp eyes, sighing and groaning. I didn’t comb my hair, didn’t go to the sea, didn’t join conversations, didn’t even smile. Every evening I’d slump down at the dinner table like a nightmare and ruin everyone’s mood. One afternoon, while sitting on the balcony, my mother made a pedagogical opening: “What’s with this face every day? What’s wrong with you, daughter?” It had been only a few seconds since I replied, “I’m bored… Life is so meaningless,” when I suddenly jumped a full meter into the air. My mother had executed the classic Turkish mother’s “mınçırma” move—firmly and without warning. Mınçırma is a disciplinary method used when your child has grown too old to be spanked with a slipper but still won’t listen even after being scolded. Instead of shouting loudly (in case neighbors hear), you grab an area on the back or leg with your hand and twist the flesh 180 degrees! Immediately after—while I was still reeling from pain and shock—my mother whispered softly, pulling her face close to mine: “I’ll put you under my foot,” then continued: “Your belly is full and your back is strong! Get your head together! If you’re bored, go to the grocery store and do the shopping, then come back and bake some cookies from the recipe book. We have guests tonight—go on now!” WHAT WAS LEFT OF MY PROBLEM? NOTHING. As you know, a teenager whose flesh has been mınçırma’d doesn’t linger at the scene; he’s so startled he immediately goes off to do whatever he wants. The one who does the mınçırma is happy; the one who gets mınçırma’d becomes a proper human being! Exactly like that. After the mınçırma, my emo phase ended—and ever since then until now, I’ve lived happily, peacefully, adaptably, and productively. If only today’s Emos—who sit on the streets drinking beer not because they need money but because they think it’s a lifestyle; who act as if the whole world’s burden rests on their shoulders; who get stuck in their moods and won’t even try to do anything—had parents from our time. Ohoo… They’d all turn into candles! First off, every single one of those hairy, unkempt idiots would be taken straight to a barber—no doubt about it! Look at the youth of our country. Children raised in religious boarding schools; kids handed stones to throw at police; and now Emos! I’m extremely hopeful about the future. Gülse Birsel How many years ago did she write this?