The International Cat Ladies' Society of Istanbul

30 Days in Istanbul: Day 14

It’s late as I post this, so please bear with. I knew I would want to tell this story today, so I waited until it happened. 

It started with a Facebook post from a stranger. 

On a page for foreign women living in Istanbul, she about being in a mosque, and hearing a woman next to her crying.

“I wanted to give her a hug,” she wrote, “but you know, damn COVID and all. I asked if there's anything I can do to help, she just shook her head. After the prayer, I asked if she was OK. She said yes and thanked me for my kindness. Then it hit me. Almost the same thing happened a couple of months ago. Only at that time, I was the one crying, in a different Mosque.”

The author of the post, whom we’ll call Sara, proposed meeting at a cafe to discuss stress, its triggers, and how we handle them.

“I suffered from stress and depression for a long time,” she added.

She shared this photo:

40 women responded to the post.

Thank you, they said. Yes, they were so very interested. They offered ideas and resources. 

That post was one of the reasons I decided to try living in Istanbul.

I messaged Sara when I arrived. The meeting hadn’t actually happened yet, but, as she said, “Your message was the sign I needed.” Today, 4 of us met up for coffee.

Sara is from Jordan, is 38 years old, and wears a headscarf. Mona is 27-years old, from Syria, and is married with a young child. Alyssa, a 36-year old Mexican-American, is here doing her Master’s Degree in Psychology.

Had I met these women in passing, I would probably have assumed we didn’t have anything in common and not made much effort. 

Instead, we talked for 2 hours and could have talked for many more. 

Sara is engaged, and shared that doesn’t want children, and how much this is to the chagrin of her mother and pretty much her entire culture.

Mona hadn’t wanted children either, but no one talked to her about birth control, so she got pregnant 6 months into her marriage. When she went into labour, 5 hospitals turned her away when she was in labour, because she’s Syrian. She wasn’t given any anesthesia during her labour, or her stitches. “I love my son so much,” she admitted. “But I hate motherhood.”

It was so hard not to cry. 

We learned that Alyssa has converted to Islam, and all the reasons she left the States, many of which felt familiar to me. Among many other topics, we shared about the different phases a woman goes through of learning not to care about what people think of her.

Also: every one of them has adopted at least one street cat. 

I’d felt lonely again, earlier today, passing the groups of beautiful people laughing and drinking at the bars and cafes of Cihangir. I felt a little bit like I’d failed for not having glamorous Saturday night plans.

But at 8pm, as I walked home after our gathering, I felt full. Of appreciation, for the power of one woman’s vulnerability and bravery. Of connection with 3 people I would never otherwise have met, and and because of that, with strangers I passed in the streets. From the experience of shared stories, shared challenges and the common struggles of being a woman in this world. And from the bond we all share when we put our differences aside. 

“We need a group chat to organize the next meeting,” someone had suggested, as we were putting on our coats to leave. “And it needs a name.”

And so I give you: The International Cat Ladies’ Society of Istanbul. 

Don’t worry. Django is our mascot.