What is Safety?

After I was hired for my position here in Turkey and shared my impending move with family and friends, I was repeatedly asked the following questions, “Are you sure? Is it safe there?” A former colleague inquired about my state of mental health, saying something along the lines of, “I’m worried about Heather. What is she thinking…..going to Turkey!?!”

My immediate family members did not express deep concern (if they had it) but those a little removed did, and I heard about it through third parties. I admit that I knew less about Turkey than I did about Mongolia when I moved there four years ago. I remember being taught about Genghis Khan and his sweeping empire during my primary and/or secondary school days; I can’t think of anything I’d ever been taught about Turkey. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing. In my mind Turkey was a blank canvas. While the concerns of others made me pause and inquire, it did not put paint on that canvas. It simply motivated me to do the research, which as a librarian I would have done regardless. 

Throughout the interview and hiring process I researched Turkey. I read about the state of the economy and about the political landscape. I read about Izmir and communicated with foreign teachers already working at the school. I was fortunate to be able to speak with the Turkish Ambassador to Mongolia, and his wife, who not only shared many positive things about their homeland, but also assisted me through the visa process (“Turkish hospitality starts for you here,”–at the Turkish embassy in Ulaanbaatar) and gave me contacts for after my arrival.

I continue to learn about Turkey every day. I visit new towns, cities, and sites. I meet new people, and I’m deepening friendships with Turkish colleagues and acquaintances. I hold a twice-a-week “conversational English club” with Turkish faculty members. Some of them asked what my family thought when I said I was moving to Turkey. I shared with them the general fear and worries about my safety as expressed by my countrymen about moving to live and work in a Muslim culture/country. They were not surprised. 

Safety is defined as “the condition of being safe from undergoing or causing hurt, injury, or loss” by Merriam Webster (definition 1). To be “safe” means to be free from harm or risk (def 1), or to be secure from threat of danger, harm, or loss, (2a) OR not likely to take risks (6). Interestingly, I would say I do not meet definition number 6–I DO take risks, albeit ones that I feel are carefully considered or vetted. As for the other definitions I want to ask….how is one secure from threats of danger, harm, or loss? In any given moment or place we can experience a loss, or be subject to danger or harm. A pet will die, a family member may fall ill, I may step off a curb and break an ankle (a dear friend did something like this last year). There is no guarantee about what may happen in the next moment. That’s both the beauty and the horror of a mortal life in a chaotic and ever-changing world. 

Don’t misunderstand me–of course there are things we can do to increase our level–or perceived level–of “safety.” We can mitigate risks and we can be prepared for a diversity of situations. We can learn first aid and practice scenarios so that if/when disaster strikes, we are better able to manage them. BUT, we cannot eliminate harm, risk, loss, or hurt. People will fall short of our expectations or hopes and there will be an emotional impact (opportunity to grow and evolve?). Jobs or careers will disappoint us, perhaps offering up a toxic environment that is not livable (time to look for something different/better?). Mother Nature will wreck her havoc by way of blizzards, tornadoes, floods, tsunamis, and earthquakes. Technology will fail and transportation and communication will be disrupted. So on and so forth.

Before moving to Mongolia I went to the local Health Department to learn about any potential vaccinations I should be prepared to get before moving. In the literature they provided about Mongolia it recommended strongly to NOT ride the public buses because there was a heightened risk of contracting TB. I understand that as a tourist who visits a place for some days or a week or two, it is feasible to not need public transportation. But I was moving to make a permanent life in Mongolia. Of course I used the public buses! For three years. Pssshh. (Note: I did not contract TB.)

I’ve come to believe that safety, like control, is an illusion that humans wish to manufacture or create or believe in. I suppose there is nothing wrong with doing something that makes you feel better, feel safer. However, I think it’s more powerful to let go of your preconceived notions about safety. To be aware, but not obsessive or anxious. It will not serve you or those around you. Anxiety has become an epidemic in these modern times, I fear, and while some of it may be warranted, not all of it is. 

So what can you do to feel more safe? I’d say I agree with Cynthia Kane in her Washington Post article titled, “Three ways to help yourself feel safe in an insane world.” She encourages us to (1) believe in ourselves, (2) accept uncertainty, and (3) be present. It’s an excellent article that looks at how we create so much of our own anxiety and worry because we fail to do those three things. Believing you can overcome adversity is the number one factor in being able to do so.

I lived in the least populated country in the world for three years. I didn’t feel unsafe there despite hearing numerous stories from other foreigners who had been victims of harassment, theft, or abuse. I did NOT experience any of those things personally. Well, there was that one attempt at pickpocketing. 

While I did not feel unsafe while I was in Mongolia, having spent ten months in Turkey I can say I feel more safe here than I did there. I do not have to constantly watch my possessions. I don’t have to hug my purse to my body and be on the constant look-out for a pick pocketer. Of course theft happens. I know tourists are warned about it in Istanbul. But it’s not something I have to think about 24×7 when I’m out walking the streets of Izmir or on the esplanade. In fact, I’ve had shop owners in my neighborhood stop me to tell me that one of my “friends” (aka “any other foreigner in the neighborhood” as they probably work at my school too) left her wallet at the market down the street. Could I call and tell her? 

I will, however, offer up a small confession. When I first arrived to Turkey I was not prepared for all of the beards! That will sound strange, I’m sure. Allow me to explain. Most Mongolians can’t grow a full beard–they are a group of people that, generally speaking, have less hair all around. I think they are similar to Native Americans in that respect. I had grown accustomed to their faces, clothing styles, and ways of walking and being in public. In the beginning of my time in Mongolia I suffered from cross race effect, but as time passed I began to see all the nuances among the people there–the students in my classes, neighbors in my building, and people on the street. 

But here in the Middle East, in a Muslim culture/country, beards are the norm and not the exception. While I don’t feel that Turkish people look all that different from me, the overwhelming presence of beards did frighten me. These men seemed dark, mysterious, I’ll even say threatening. I KNOW that sounds childish and bizarre. I was new and everyone seemed foreign and “other-than.” I didn’t know yet what it meant to be Muslim, culturally or religiously.

But now I have Turkish colleagues and friends. These people are no longer strange. And the beards have grown on me. In fact, I would say I find them comforting. In the end I think it all boils down to acclimation. A new place will be strange and different. As time passes, that strange becomes the new normal. It’s a natural cycle.  

This makes some sense psychologically speaking. According to this article on Psychology Today, “every stranger is a potential danger.” And yet….everyone is a stranger until we meet them or interact with them. So we have to choose to not be moved by our fears, by our built-in flight or fight response system. There is much to be gained by doing so. 

I guess what I want to end with is this: Safety is an illusion. Be informed and be aware, of course. But don’t stress about all the potential things that MIGHT occur. Believe in your own ability to handle an unexpected event. We should meet and befriend those who are different from us. Be present with him/her/them and ask questions that will help you understand or relate.

One of my greatest desires is to meet and cultivate Turkish friends. My fellow foreigners will come and go. We will always have ease and opportunity to hang out and converse. But I don’t have plans to move on from this place. Therefore, I’m interested in deepening my relationship with this country, and its people. And to be perfectly honest, I feel the “safest” I’ve ever felt. I walk when and where I want. People are helpful and supportive; they are kind. I have yet to experience anything that feels threatening. I’m sure part of that is because I am a foreigner and Turks seem to go out of their way to look after us. How kind of them!

Where have you felt the least safe? When traveling, or in an unfamiliar neighborhood in your own country? What place or time or situation felt scary, but then proved to be the opposite? And where and when do you feel the most safe? What creates that feeling for you?