Bra Burners Manifest

So fast, so slow, so painful, so soft

Wait until they take their heads out of the vagina

Who wears what and which colors will be chosen, without forgetting

The past and glorious heritage, without carrying anthems

Connecting visual feasts with opiate wine

Being enchanted, loving so much, passionately in love with penis

Ancestry’s beloveds are inks from sovereigns

 

Who wrote this dewan who read on which feeling

and who were in private room with whom, who teased

whose body and which fatwa was written for us

do you have a prayer in mind read it if you do but first

repent

 

Savages shahs elephants your dongless boys came here

Our mothers, sisters, grandmothers and aunts went through a bloody cycle

They made them go through days

With machetes, knives, swords and gave a son’s name to government

Now we memorize his name and soul soberly

We praise him and his family, play janissary music on the latest speakers

Forth and back, right and left

We consign our chastity to boy’s co-dongers to protect.

 

Who wrote this lust-epistle who copied in old writing and handed out

To the women in our neighborhood, independency and unorthodoxy

We were one of you we wanted it too, by covering our triangles with hair

Shut up, repent

 

Your burnt, whiter than white, droopy, stony breasts

To breastfeed very desirous, greedy, virtuous children

To be grasped or only

To be cut for punishment or to be hung on ceilings from two nipples

These nipples, huge, brown or pink

Must be hidden, must not be seen, many clothes are not enough

Breasts must be restrained!

Who found this cloth, drooped from the back, underwired bras

let it not droop, they lose their appetites if it droops, not

corset, not that cruel any more, they let us

breathe, underpinned, creating the effect of operation,

sateen lace transparent silk decreasing two sizes

 

The one who hangs us,

the mammals, hangs the body fastening on earth

from the armpits

Putting on velvet bonds to another imprisonment

 

Oh dear girl do not let so much men touch your breasts

They will droop and nobody will like them

Oh dear girl let’s put round cups on them

So that they will be lumpy that’s nicer

Oh dear girl do not wear that blouse, its collar is open

You’ve just bleed and you’ve just understood your country’s soil

From which martyrs spring

You smelled, when reading poem on October twenty ninth

I will wrap your breasts with cotton clothes

 

Who revolted first, that he is our prophet they will not

allow, hadith sunna fard

We didn’t enter their worlds blended with tales

therefore

 We listened to the words of our grandmothers

who wrote articles against articles claiming that

 The man stripped to the waist is not equal

to the woman stripped to the waist

 

We may not know which wave, we started this wave

From an edge of earth that was blessed to his grandchild

Ruled and expanded by Ottoman.

We felt proud of hiding breasts while breastfeeding

We liked to display them under a piece of cloth

We opened it more

And we bounced them up, we rode bicycles, we played ball

We collected a mountain, started from the ones who have loosed tires

And we climbed the steps one by one upon

Most expensive laced black bras that can steal men’s hearts

Thick back, transparent back, thin strapped strapless.

 

Who lighted that fire and threw it

 around our bra mountain, none of us saw

We burned them all

Then with nude droopy big small rounded wide hard soft

Breasts

Wrote our own history

Artificial or natural

Whoever thinks she’s a woman with that breast

We wrote

We made the dance that rose clouds of dust

Over ashes

We made

So happy so free many people.

 

 

 

 

Translation: Gözde Zülal Solak

Photography: History Channel 

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