I don’t remember the first time I read bell hooks. What I do remember is that her passionate feminism had become an inseparable part of my thinking and activism by the time I reached my mid-twenties. I was in Istanbul, writing stories, but mostly struggling. As much as I loved the city, I was not sure I belonged. On the radio Tracy Chapman’s voice soared over the cries of seagulls, echoing my confusion: “I wanna wake up and know where I’m going”. Feminism had given me a map of the world but I still kept getting lost.
That was when I began to read bell hooks, who died of kidney failure on 15 December aged 69, more carefully and intensely. Her words shifted something permanently in my soul; they inspired, encouraged and motivated me.
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