When I lived in Germany I had a very good Turkish girlfriend. She was the epitome of everything a person could love about Turkey — beautiful beyond measure, educated, sharp as the sharpest tack, deep, a moderate Muslim with a very ethereal and loving take on her religion. She was married to a non-religious, educated man, who, despite all of the outward appearance of being modern, controlled her like a hawk. Abuse was present, at first emotional and psychological, and later, when that no longer worked, physical. In our friendship, I went through the gamut of emotions, especially anger, at her inability to extract herself quickly enough from the marriage. I ended up, during one trip to Istanbul , stewing in my own anger and sadness as I watched her from my very American perspective trying to take a measured approach to the abuse. She had so much more to consider than I could have ever realized – including her own family’s reaction to what was happening.

During the same trip, I met several other women in her social group, and this was when I started (just started) to realize the importance of feminine friendships in her world – the solace other women offered, the solidarity, the warmth, the love, the physical closeness (of a strictly pure nature — arm holding, hugging, the like) and how that part of her world saved her.

And I realized how little I actually knew about what she had to go through to survive, let alone thrive, in her beautiful, complex culture.

I understand your anger. I feel it to a lesser degree here in Italy, because I was naive enough to think that being Italian American actually had something in common with being Italian, which it does not. And Italian and American culture are not as diametrically opposed as Turkish and American culture. I think your anger is healthy and something to work through in this complicated (yet fascinating) lifestyle.

Warmest regards.