When the world gets closer.

We help you see farther.

Sign up to our expressly international daily newsletter.

Already a subscriber? Log in .

You've reached your limit of one free article.

Get unlimited access to Worldcrunch

You can cancel anytime .


Exclusive International news coverage

Ad-free experience NEW

Weekly digital Magazine NEW

9 daily & weekly Newsletters

Access to Worldcrunch archives

Free trial

30-days free access, then $2.90
per month.

Annual Access BEST VALUE

$19.90 per year, save $14.90 compared to monthly billing.save $14.90.

Subscribe to Worldcrunch

Here's What It's Like To Get An Abortion In An Increasingly Pious Turkey

A hospital in southwestern Turkey
A hospital in southwestern Turkey
Ayse Arman

ISTANBUL - Early-term abortions are still legal in Turkey, though Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan made his own opposition clear last year, calling abortion "murder." There was also at least one case of a woman who had an abortion after the 10th week facing three years in jail, in a country with an increasingly pious Muslim influence in national politics.

For the upcoming “Abortion is a Right” gathering, women from over 40 NGOs and organizations are gathering to voice their support to keep abortion legal in Turkey. The association has also put together a compilation of stories from women who have had heart-wrenching experiences during birth, abortion and Cesarean operations in an aim to raise awareness. They have been published anonymously at www.kurtajhaktir.com.

Here is one such story:

I am 37 years old and I have two children. Even though my husband and I used protection I became pregnant for a third time. After spending days and nights debating whether we could raise a third child, we made the very difficult decision to have an abortion.

Financially it would be impossible for us to raise a third child. Having a child means costs, and unfortunately we didn’t have the financial capacity to afford it.

I know it may seem like I’m writing this account very calmly, but do not be fooled. When I found out I was pregnant I was completely shocked. My husband was equally devastated, especially when we made the decision to abort.

We researched the cost of the procedure and found that if we went to a public hospital, the operation could be carried out for 700 Turkish Liras ($395).

Once we made the decision, I went to a family planning clinic at a local public hospital where the doctor carried out an ultrasound and found the fetus. As soon as I told her I wanted an abortion, her whole facial expression changed and with a stern voice she said: “Elementary school graduates, university graduates, you are all the same.”

Lacking any empathy with her patient, she lashed out with harsh and judgmental words that did nothing more than boost her ego.

I stayed silent. I didn’t want to speak because my sorrow was enough for me.

She finally gave me an appointment and told me to come bathed, shaved and to bring a skirt. Just as I was leaving she added that I should also come to my appointment on a full stomach!

I found this strange, especially as it’s not right to eat before being put under anesthetic. Everyone knows that.

“You know how to sleep with your husband?”

Two days later I woke up early and set out with my husband for the hospital, where we arrived at 8.45 a.m. They ushered my husband into the waiting room and took me to another department, where there were four other women waiting.

I waited an hour before the doctor called me in. As if I were her child, she abruptly told me to go and sit down. The next thing I knew she was explaining how the reproductive system works. And then in a condescending manner she asked me questions like “So how are you going to protect yourself from now on?”

Then when I answered her, she said, “Well if you know how to protect yourself why didn’t you take the full precautions before?” I uttered my husband’s name, but she wouldn’t let me finish: “You know how to sleep with your husband though, don’t you?” she said.

Next I was taken to a room with bunk beds. There were four bunks, one dirtier than the next. The windows in the room were wide open. I was instructed to put on my skirt, forced to undress in front of complete strangers.

The women in the room were summoned into the operating room, one by one. I waited my turn. Each woman that came back into the room after the procedure looked completely distraught. But no one said a word. I was the last one to be called in.

I entered the room. The window was wide open and the gynecology chair was right in front of it. I was told to lie down, and very naïvely I was expecting them to apply the anesthetic. At this point my eyes caught sight of a bin right next to the bed, which was filled with bloody cloths and cotton wool.

While I was taking everything in, I noticed the door to the room was wide open and people were walking in and out as they pleased. I then asked myself: “What am I doing here among these people?”

Then suddenly the doctor inserted a speculum inside me and that was the point where I realized they would not use anesthetic, nor would they give me anything to help calm my nerves.

A kind of punishment

The physical and emotional trauma I went through at that moment is one that will haunt me for life. I started to cry, which is very much unlike me. They literally vacuumed my baby right in front of my eyes. It rocked me and suddenly I hated everything: myself, my husband my helplessness.

The whole procedure took five minutes.

My hands went purple from squeezing the corners of the table so hard. I felt like I had been raped and then I realized that I had indeed been raped, emotionally.

Looking back now, I think this kind of procedure without even so much as a painkiller is a way of the government punishing women who seek abortions.

"You say it's your body, your choice -- well here you go, have a look"... is what the government is trying to say to us.

I wanted to share my story to make people aware of the situation and perhaps even help to lead the way towards change.

You've reached your limit of free articles.

To read the full story, start your free trial today.

Get unlimited access. Cancel anytime.

Exclusive coverage from the world's top sources, in English for the first time.

Insights from the widest range of perspectives, languages and countries.

FOCUS: Israel-Palestine War

After Abbas: Here Are The Three Frontrunners To Be The Next Palestinian Leader

Israel and the West have often asked: Where is the Palestinian Mandela? The divided regimes between Gaza and the West Bank continues to make it difficult to imagine the future Palestinian leader. Still, these three names are worth considering.

Photo of Mahmoud Abbas speaking into microphone

Abbas is 88, and has been the leading Palestinian political figure since 2005

Thaer Ganaim/APA Images via ZUMA
Elias Kassem

Updated Dec. 5, 2023 at 12:05 a.m.

Israel has set two goals for its Gaza war: destroying Hamas and releasing hostages.

But it has no answer to, nor is even asking the question: What comes next?

The government of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has rejected the return of the current Palestinian Authority to govern post-war Gaza. That stance seems opposed to the U.S. Administration’s call to revitalize the Palestinian Authority (PA) to assume power in the coastal enclave.

For the latest news & views from every corner of the world, Worldcrunch Today is the only truly international newsletter. Sign up here.

But neither Israel nor the U.S. put a detailed plan for a governing body in post-war Gaza, let alone offering a vision for a bonafide Palestinian state that would also encompass the West Bank.

The Palestinian Authority, which administers much of the occupied West Bank, was created in1994 as part of the Oslo Accords peace agreement. It’s now led by President Mahmoud Abbas, who succeeded Yasser Arafat in 2005. Over the past few years, the question of who would succeed Abbas, now 88 years old, has largely dominated internal Palestinian politics.

But that question has gained new urgency — and was fundamentally altered — with the war in Gaza.

Keep reading...Show less

The latest