I just love this series of photos by Diana Blok. Here she talks about how and why she decided to take a series of photographes of the LGBT community in Istanbul, Turkey. The series is called: See Through Me.
' In 2008 I spent 5 days in Istanbul where I had not been since 1986. It
became obvious to me that the West had taken over a slice of the East.
Prada, Gucci and Starbucks had blended with Turkish coffee houses where
herbal hookahs were still smoked, and people relaxed to the strains of
the Bagamon. Outside on the street a frantic rush of people glued to
their mobile phones. In an elegant restaurant on top of one of
Istanbul's seven hills, tray bearing waiters walked back and forth over a
rug into which was woven a larger than life pin-up nude of Marilyn
Monroe - an icon whose body is almost sacred to the West. Night-life in
and around Taksim had flourished. I could hear the echo of the music
wafting into my hotel room. Before my departure I searched the internet
for any trace of Gay night-life in Istanbul. Did it exist? My
imagination could not evoke scenes beyond glittering Harems, tales from
One Thousand and One Nights, wild belly dancing and exotically beautiful
women.
Alone in my hotel room, I wondered if there were cafés where gay women
could meet. Where they could talk, share, dance. I wondered whether two
women could walk down the street hand in hand. Could women choose a life
other than that of the traditional, which they had been leading for
hundreds of years? Were gay women - and men - forced to lead a double
life in order to fulfil their desires?
Recent articles in the Dutch media talked of Istanbul's thriving gay
night-life and its transsexual bars. Yet nothing about women. Due to the
dictates of their male dominated culture, gay women in Turkey live in
the shadows. They're hidden. But, as it is in every society, they do
exist - they're either visible on the surface, or they go underground.
I returned to Istanbul in 2009. This time to discover what gay and
transsexual life was really like. I travelled with Ipek, my Turkish
photography assistant, and through her contacted Kaos GL in Ankara with a
request to put us in touch with gay women, men and transsexuals who
would be willing to co-operate in the project.
As a photographer, I realise how revealing a portrait alone can be.
However, on this project, I also felt the need to include thoughts and
life stories hidden behind the silence of the image.
We began by going to the bars and cafés, talking to individuals and
introducing the project; in search of subjects who were courageous
enough to speak up, pose and participate. As full as these male gay bars
were, finding volunteers proved difficult. The fear of losing jobs, and
alienating wives, friends and family members, proved too great a risk. I
was looking for an open interaction with people who would work with me
towards a shift in perception regarding the gay world and how it has
changed in the past 20 years.
Contrary to expectation, and perhaps because I am a woman myself, it was
easier to
encounter women who were willing to reveal their true identities. The
self-portrait projects I worked on in the early 80's, which they could
see on my website, gave them the necessary confidence to allow me to see
through them. Eventually, we did find both men and women who were
courageous enough to lead openly gay lives. But it was obvious that most
were living a double life - married with spouse and children. Otherwise
they would end up alone.
Regarding this subject matter, I have often been asked why, as a South
American/Dutch citizen, would I choose Turkey? My reply is that, growing
up in South America, I encountered the very same taboos. The burden of
tradition and the power of the media made it extremely difficult to come
to terms with your true identity, and to openly express a sexual
inclination other than that which society deemed acceptable. Although
Turkey is momentarily in the process of joining the EU, their human
rights laws do not coincide with ours. Gays are discriminated against
and transsexuals fear for their lives.
During the months we spent in Turkey, we came very close to many
individuals who openly posed and told their stories. One twenty four
year old transsexual said she was very much in love with her boyfriend,
but did not dare tell him she was transsexual. She wanted to achieve the
impossible and bear a child. They told us that there was a good market
for men with breasts, so they didn't dare to undergo a full
transformation. We heard that same-sex love amongst women was not taken
seriously - if a male is not involved it can't be real. Once their
families found out, gays and transsexuals were often subjected to
psychological treatment. They confessed that, no matter how much they
loved sex, they would not have willingly chosen for a life on the
streets.
As I am one to celebrate mystery, diversity, and above all,
authenticity, the fundamental freedom to live a life whole and fulfilled
for all human beings is something I hold dear.
So many of my subjects expressed a deep-rooted longing to be accepted
and acknowledged; not to be driven into the obscurity of shadows by a
fear driven society.
Uniformity dulls the senses. Let the world flaunt its colours and let us
all see the light of truth through our own and each other's eyes.
Only half of the participants gave permission for their portrait to be
shown in Turkey. Nevertheless, I would like to extend my heartfelt
gratitude to all of them for their courage, their openness and their
trust.'
