Removed from the Crowd

I’ve always made it a point to be a traveler, not a tourist or worse, a visitor. To me being a traveler means immersing oneself in an experience and not merely observing it. It means being spontaneous and willing to let go of any previous notions of what one came to see. It means departing from the familiar and it often means putting down the camera to actually be grounded in a moment. So when I found myself in the middle of a demonstration in the heart of Istanbul, my first instinct was to join the crowd, act like I belong, and discover an aspect of Turkish culture I had not yet experienced.

Young Turkish men and women marched down Istiklal Street, the noisy vendor-filled heart of the city, chanting slogans with increasing volume and enthusiasm. Some people wore Galatasaray or Beşiktaş soccer jerseys, representing Istanbul’s rival soccer teams, and seemed to be protesting high ticket prices, while others held signs challenging state surveillance and media control. As we paraded down the street, people seemed more excited than angry, shouting passionately and littering the street with flyers for various social causes and political campaigns. We reached a police blockade preventing the crowd from entering Taksim Square, where protests a year earlier resulted in a severe police crackdown on demonstrators. The street became packed with people dressed in bright colors, thrusting their fists in the air, demanding attention from the government. I was submerged in the mass of people, utterly mesmerized by their fiery chants and now indignant faces.

Shortly after the demonstration reached the police barricade, the crowd grew increasingly hostile. A group of young men started throwing rockets at the police and the crowd became frantic. A rocket almost hit my leg, and fully anticipating the hostility to escalate, I began to feel unsafe. I needed to get out.

I took this photograph from behind the police, a safe distance from the commotion, as an observer, no longer a traveler immersed in the crowd. Removed from the demonstration, I felt the distinct difference between being a tourist, a traveler, and a local. One minute I was so caught up in the protest, I completely forgot to take photographs, and the next I was safely behind the police holding my camera up to capture a moment I only partially experienced. Although I had tried to embody what I would call a traveler, I could not completely experience the demonstration as a local because I was not willing to compromise my safety for a cause in which I held no stakes, as I was neither a Turkish citizen nor a soccer fan.

The photograph’s deep foreground represents well my removal from the protest and my internal conflict between wanting to be part of an authentic local experience and knowing that there are some places I don’t belong. I was simply not Turkish enough to fully understand the significance or scope or the demonstration. Although I became familiar enough with Istanbul to be able to give people directions, understand public transportation, and eat in tiny restaurants only locals know about, there was still a separation between me and the city and the people. Demonstrations are intimate events; unique views into the local public’s opinion of their own city and government. Despite my knowledge of Istanbul, I didn’t fit in; I was still a foreigner.

 

chace-donahue_2016-02-15-author-imageEmelie Chace-Donahue is a sophomore Government major at Smith College. She loves languages, photojournalism, and travel. She is learning Arabic and plans to study abroad in Amman, Jordan in the fall. Her academic interests include human rights, environmental policy and international relations. Emelie has studied and interned in France, Jordan, Turkey and the United Arab Emirates. When she is at home in Maine or Massachusetts, Emelie enjoys skiing and spending time outside.

 

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