When I tell people my story, one of the first things they usually comment on is that it occurred in Turkey. “Was he Turkish?” they say, “Was he Muslim?” or, “well, it’s a different culture,” as if that explains everything.
While it’s undoubtably true that Turkey has a very different culture to the UK, I think the issue of domestic abuse runs much deeper and is far more complex than that. To say, “it’s a different culture,” almost feels like he’s being given a free pass. That he isn’t responsible for his behaviour. That it’s in his DNA. It also feels a bit like I’m being blamed for my own abuse. After all, what did I expect, right?
I’m also strongly adverse to attacking a country’s “culture,” spreading misinformation and mistrust and fuelling the mentality of “them and us.”
Interestingly, when women are victims of domestic abuse in western societies such as the UK, USA, northern Europe and Australia, culture is never mentioned.
Whether domestic abuse is cultural is something I have been thinking about a lot recently and why I wrote this post. I think it’s an interesting question, and one I have been trying to answer, or at least explore.
In my case, I think culture had a lot to do with my husband’s abusive behaviour, though not in the way you might think.
Let me explain. I was married to Serkan for 12 years before we moved to Turkey. When we lived in the UK, though our marriage wasn’t perfect, I would describe us as happy. Though we argued from time to time, and Serkan occasionally showed glimpses of a temper that would become terrifying, in general, our relationship was equal. We both worked, we both did things around the house, and when Elif arrived, we shared the childcare. There was no sign of the abuse I write about in my book.
As I describe in my book, The Other Side of Fear;
“After moving to Turkey, the change in Serkan was as immediate as it was insidious. Distracted by a mixture of Elif’s teething, the inevitable culture shock, and hellish temperatures that scraped the late-forties, I didn’t notice it right away. It was the stress, I told myself. The move. The heat. The clear animosity between myself and his mother.”
So what happened? Why did my loving husband metamorphosise into a monster that kept me living in fear? Was it the change in culture that was to blame?
Culture is difficult to define, yet it is probably the single most significant factor in who we are, and how we think and behave. Culture is like the air we breathe. It’s all around us, all the time, and yet we are largely unaware of it.
Culture is what we see and hear. It’s who we talk to. It’s the behaviour we observe and the responses to that behaviour. It’s what we watch on TV, what we read on social media. It’s films and soap operas and song lyrics. It’s the way others react to our comments and behaviour, the subtle rebuke or reinforcement that puts on the brakes or encourages us to proceed.
So is domestic abuse cultural?
Well, yes, and no.
In many ways, domestic abuse is absolutely cultural. It stems from the norms and values we grow up with, what we see as children, how our caregivers, role models and peers behave, and how others react to that behaviour — whatever country we happen to be born in.
There are certainly some cultures, such as Turkey, that are undoubtedly more patriarchal, conservative and traditional — and often have very different ideas about women.
That said, in February 2015 hundreds of Turkish men took to the streets of Istanbul wearing miniskirts in protest at the murder of 20-year-old Ozgecan Aslan who was beaten, stabbed and dumped in a riverbed after trying to fend off an attempted rape.
The good news is that cultures can change. Not so long ago, overt racism, sexism and homophobia were culturally acceptable and unquestioned in the UK. Marital rape was not a criminal offence in the UK until 1991 and coercive and controlling behaviour was not made a criminal offence until December 2015. Staggeringly, there was no legal definition of domestic abuse until April 2021. (Source: Centre for Women’s Justice: Timeline of Key Developments. 2016)
Cultures and attitudes change slowly, generationally, through education and awareness. That’s why we need men to stand up, like they did in Istanbul. Not just when a woman is murdered, but if your mate down the pub makes a derogatory remark, or displays unhealthy or toxic behaviour. We need strong male role models to demonstrate positive behaviour, healthy relationships and coping skills and deter toxic behavioural patterns and ways of thinking.
We need to educate women and girls about the early warning signs of abuse, build self-esteem in our daughters, and teach them to know their worth.
We need to speak openly about domestic abuse, a crime that almost invariably happens behind closed doors, and is hidden, not only by the abuser but also the victim. We need to remove the shame and stigma of domestic abuse, the victim blaming and the idea that abusive behaviour is a part of someone’s “culture” and therefore not their fault.
So is domestic abuse cultural?
Personally, I think it’s simplistic to label domestic abuse as cultural, in terms of Turkish culture, or UK culture, or German culture. That said, domestic abuse certainly stems from culture on a more personal level in terms of how we are brought up, learned behaviour, and the attitudes and ideas of those around us.
It is this that we need to change.
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