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240 pages, Paperback
First published December 1, 2020
Ich habe sehr viel ertragen,Semra Ertan was the daughter of Gani Bilir and Vehbiye Bilir, who lived in Kiel and Hamburg as Turkish guest workers. When Semra was 14 years old, she also moved to Germany with her six sisters shortly after her parents' arrival. As early as 1976, she noted that she wanted to be a writer.
Ertrage noch …
Ich war sehr einsam,
Bin es noch …
Ich habe sehr viel Mut gemacht,
Mache es noch …
(1980)
Ich werde sie offenlegen,Semra announced her suicide by self-immolation in a phone call to NDR. In this phone call, the 25-year-old also explained the motive for her act: the increasing xenophobia and racism in the Federal Republic of Germany was the reason for her decision to die in front of the German public. Her last words were a curse on all those who, in her view, had driven her to this act.
Meine Schriften, großzügig …
Erst später werden sie es schätzen,
Deren Wert …
Dann werde ich,
Allen unbekannt,
In weiter Ferne sein.
(1977)
Mein Name ist Ausländer,Mein Name ist Ausländer was edited by Semra's Zühal Bilir-Meier and her niece Cana Bilir-Meier; the collection contains Semra's poems, notes, letters, photographs, and handwritten notes. For this work, Semra was posthumously awarded an extraordinary Alfred Döblin Medal in 2021.
Ich arbeite hier,
Ich weiß, wie ich arbeite,
Ob die Deutschen es auch wissen?
Meine Arbeit ist schwer,
Meine Arbeit ist schmutzig.
Das gefällt mir nicht, sage ich.
"Wenn dir die Arbeit nicht gefällt
Geh in deine Heimat", sagen sie.
(1981)
Wann immer ich einen rebellierenden jungen Menschen vor mir sehe,Even though I didn't always love the very direct and simple style of her poems, I still got completely immersed in her thoughts and feelings. I could totally empathize with her struggle of wanting to make the world a better place, her frustrations about the rising racism within German society, and her own silences and inabilities. Semra was 25 when she set herself on fire. I'm 25 years old now. It drives me mad when I think about everything she had to face, and how she ultimately chose to cope with that pain and desperation. I've known this for a long time but Semra's story shows it in an extremely painful way: racism kills, in various ways.
Erinnere ich mich an meine stummen Jahre
Und erschrecke, dass ich in den brennenden Zeiten
Geschwiegen habe.
(1977)
That faith in the goodness of people and the guarantee of coming change and justice is gone by the end of the collection. Her loss of control over her own self, which can be traced through the collection, emanates from two sides at once: On the one hand, from the German society, which perceives her first and foremost as a foreigner, a Turk, a guest worker, and as a costly need of the public education system. Semra's scenic everyday poems speak of this reality: her experiences in official corridors and consulates, her unemployment and lack of money ("Wenn ich sterben will, das Geld reicht nicht mal für die Beerdigung.").
Geduldig warte ich …
Bis die Menschen verstehen …
Werde ich warten …
(1977)