What It Means To “Work Like A Turk”

I bumped into one of my friends, my first Kurdish friend in fact, the other day and we’ve been back in touch online too. We mentioned our plans for work and education, and I realised something. I know it doesn’t go with the stereotypical image of me or my ethnic group, but I actually feel quite uncomfortable with the idea of talking about topics like race, religion and politics on the job. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.

First of all, I’m worried about discrimination. Most Kurds in Turkey are. If there’s one thing that unites the many millions of us, it’s the lengths to which we go to try to make ourselves less likely to be discriminated against. I don’t live in Turkey, but I think I worry about discrimination the same amount as a Kurd who does. I know British anti-discrimination law is my friend, and yet I still find it difficult to trust at times. What, discrimination isn’t actually my fault because my ethnicity is a protected characteristic? I’ve often thought that sounded too good to be true. Which is why in job applications, I still tick the dreaded “Prefer not to say” box, or “other white” or “any other ethnic group” and leave it blank.

If I said I was a Kurd? I know enough about what recruiters sound like to have an idea of what they could say about a “practicing” Kurdish person applying. How I “wouldn’t fit in” because I’m not size 6 and blonde. How I am “unusual” with a “controversial lifestyle” because I like going to committee meetings at the Kurdish centre more than walks and board games. Not giving out any racial information in the application and interviewing process grants me some immunity. It gives the recruiters a chance to beam at my CV, praising me with “Wow, she’s given everything a go!” and “Goodness, what a great reference!”

Let’s think of a theoretical office job I’ve been hired for. An admin job I’m doing as a side hustle, along with my main theoretical job. And let’s imagine I do talk about race and politics at work. A lot. “Too much”, in white people’s parlance. As I partake in the quotidian rituals of shaking out my umbrella and taking off my coat, I can almost feel the changes in the office atmosphere. To how I need to “educate” and “enlighten” them about “the plight of the poor oppressed Kurds”. I’m not oppressed as an individual, and calling every Kurdish person’s life a “plight” rather than an “experience” doesn’t do anything to make us less oppressed as a group.

As I side-eye my imaginary coworkers and sit down at my desk, they say how "brave” I am, how I’ve “defied retrograde cultural expectations” by showing up. I’m Alevi, and therefore there aren’t that many “retrograde cultural expectations” for me to follow or defy at all. Most Kurdish Alevi women I know pursue higher education and, yes, at least one job. But being Middle Eastern, we’re usually thought of as identical to stereotypical Muslim women, denied of agency at the hands of men. I don’t talk about race at work because I just want to be seen as a person who works, not a Kurdish Alevi female vertically visually challenged individual who works. I don’t want to be seen as a magical unicorn on an exciting employment journey, because I’m not a magical unicorn and virtually no one would call the morning commute exciting.

Let’s imagine I quit that job and find another one that’s basically the same. Not something exciting, something to make me money so I can afford to do exciting things. The only difference is that I call myself a Turk instead, a Turk who “just doesn’t care about all that”. A lot of Kurds do that, compromising their entire identity so as not to be discriminated against, treated like magical unicorns or put into the role of the designated explainer. I think I’d be treated much more favourably. They say how they went on holiday in Turkey, how the food was great, which hotels are the best, and the widespread availability of reasonably priced elective surgery. They don’t mention the government, or police brutality, or environmental destruction. They only look at it from their point of view. I feel like I’m not being listened to. But I’m not makimg myself vulnerable by talking about race and politics. I am safe behind the shield of calling myself something other than a Kurd. They can’t be Kurdophobic if I don’t “bring it on myself”, can they? I’m supposed to blame myself, right? Shouldn’t I be feeling more miserable? See what I said about legal protection feeling too good to be true?

I feel awful for saying this, and it’s even had me second-guessing my own identity, thinking I’m assimilated, but I think there are circumstances where my employment security comes first and the luxury of expressing my identity comes second. I’m as Kurdish as a PKK fighter brandishing an AK-47 in a field of mountain flowers, but I feel like the only way to keep whatever job I have is to “work like a Turk”. My partner calls it “being a clever revolutionary”. This says very little about how much of a Kurd I am, given how many other Kurds are doing this. It says even less about my character, how I supposedly “only want the good bits”, or somehow missed the memo that “choices have consequences”, or just need a hundredth or thousandth “wake-up call”. It’s a response to discrimination, ostracisation, ignorance and the fear of all of the above. Needing to “work like a Turk” is a fight-or-flight response.

I would find it much easier to address controversial topics if I worked with another Kurd. We’d sit together and talk about race and politics. We could become a clique of “woke folk” or, more likely, “radical Kurdish extremists compromising productivity”. It would be much easier to be one of a few people, than the only one, making myself vulnerable in this way at work. Yet I’d also worry about whether I was adhering to stereotypes, or acting assimilated, and how that makes Kurds look. I’d go from being the dedicated explainer, to the “racial representative”, feeling like everything I do has to make Kurds look good and every mistake I make is a disgrace to my race. I think putting myself in the position of the racial representative would bring me as much stress, if not more.

The stereotype goes that Kurds look for any opportunity to bring up their political situation, whether it’s in front of the Turkish embassy or in front of the manager at work. But it’s just that — a stereotype. Mostly an inaccurate one, like the stereotype that all Kurds have unibrows or drive Volkswagen Passats. Neither of which apply to me. Most Kurds simply aren’t comfortable talking about race in environments where they worry about discrimination. To “work like a Turk” is a convenient way for us to make our lives more bearable in those environments. The only thing it’s a “wake-up call” for is the fact that even as a relatively privileged person, nothing I ever say will hurt me more than Kurdophobia will.