Being a Circassian in Turkey

I came across an article by Turkish Circassian Janbek Apish and considered it important to share its contents. Below is a concise and close-to-original outline of the key points.
“Historically, being a Circassian in Turkey meant learning to survive through invisibility. During the collapse of the empire and the formation of the nation-state, this invisibility was not a conscious choice or strategy, but a reflex of self-preservation. Identity was shaped not as a space for free self-expression, but as a zone of constant self-control: between what could be shown and what had to be hidden. As a result, a condition emerged where Circassians were simultaneously present in the system while absent as an independent subject.
Even within state structures and public institutions, Circassians absorbed a simple rule: advancement and safety were only possible on the condition of abandoning their own authenticity. This gave rise to the model of the ‘ideal citizen,’ in which ethnic identity was permissible only in the private sphere and in strictly limited, safe forms. Over time, this ceased to be an external requirement and became an internal norm.
Thus, Circassian identity was reduced to a folkloric shell. Dances, costumes, and rituals became the primary form of visibility, but it was precisely this aestheticization that played the role of the most effective mechanism of concealment. When identity transforms into a cultural attraction, language, historical trauma, political issues, and the vision for the future disappear from the public sphere. The visibility remains, but the substance is hollowed out.
For a long time, such a model indeed ensured physical and social survival. However, over time, the defense mechanism began to work against the identity itself. Language and traditional ways of life became locked in the memory of the older generation, while among the youth, the connection to their roots is increasingly limited to symbolic gestures and family holidays. This is no longer a survival strategy, but a state of frozen inertia.
Internal conformism plays a special role in this process. Any attempt to bring identity into the public space (language, memory, or the right to one’s own perspective) is often perceived within the community itself as a threat to stability. As a result, internal control turns out to be no less—and sometimes even more—rigid than external restrictions. Camouflage becomes the norm, and silence a virtue.
It is important to understand: we are not talking about a ‘conscious rejection’ of identity. No people voluntarily chooses the disappearance of its language and memory. Invisibility was the price of survival in the past, but today it is increasingly becoming a form of cultural self-destruction. Identity cannot exist exclusively in the private sphere and within folkloric boundaries—without a public voice, it gradually loses its substance.
Today, Circassians in Turkey exist in an intermediate state, between preservation and dissolution. Finding a way out of this situation is impossible through either aggressive exhibitionism or the habitual silence. It is about the necessity of developing a new paradigm in which identity becomes not an object of nostalgia, but a subject of conversation, memory, and demands.
Otherwise, being Circassian will remain merely a suffix in a surname or an old dagger on the wall. A living identity exists only through voice, conflict, and demand, because silence protects only the dead.”
𝑪𝒊𝒓𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑴𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂