"When my Uncle Hrant was murdered, I was five. Back then, I was not able to speak to the extent my peers could since I am an individual with autism. Regrettably, I do not remember Uncle Hrant much. But my mom used to tell me all about him as they were friends. And Uncle Hrant knew me as a baby. The only thing I vaguely remember of him is his very big hands. He used to put his hand on my head, stroking my hair. In fact, I am cognizant of the way I remember his hands. If you have an autistic brain you tend to recall what others won’t remember, and over time you learn that recalling things that no one remembers is not bizarre. When it comes to my Uncle Hrant’s face, of course, I know his face from the photographs. As I grew older, I have seen many photos of him, watched his interviews multiple times, and read books about him.

Some stones have a tongue, they speak to the ones that heed them. Just like the stone of my Uncle Hrant. To me, the stone laid on the pavement in front of the Agos newspaper building means a lot more than a mere place where my Uncle Hrant was shot and fell. This very stone represents our meeting point, for me going to this very stone is tantamount to visiting my Uncle Hrant…Every year on January 19^th, as I stand by this stone, I sigh “I wish I could see him now”. I never step my feet on the stone. As I address to you today, the same emotions evoke in me: I wish I could conserve with my Uncle Hrant in my current age, I wish he could look at my school grades and give me a big smile… “Never dare to give up on this child, he has a different fabric, a unique soul”, this is what he told my mom when I was diagnosed with autism. I so much wish that my Uncle Hrant could have witnessed my acceptance to Hacettepe University. If only he could see that…

15 years is a long time for everyone, in my case, it almost equals my entire life. If one goes to the same commemoration event on the same date each year throughout his entire life, as he grows up, as a child, in his youth, then one never forgets what he has heard during these events.

I was standing in a big crowd, as a little child; that crowd was particularly silent, every now and then chanting “We are all Hrant, we are all Armenian”. Even though I was not able to articulate these words back then, I have always thought “This is how it should feel to be one”. When I was a child, I was scared of crowds, noise, and buzz. Now that I reminisce about those days, I also come to realize that one of the very rare crowds where I feel good has been the crowd of January 19^th. I have always felt good among the thousands of ”familiar” yet unknown people who came over to my Uncle Hrant. I believe Uncle Hrant would be happy to know this.

It was many years later when I listened to my Uncle Hrant’s beloved wife Rakel Dink and her address at the funeral. I have never forgotten her words: “Whoever the assassin may be, I know that he was once a baby. My brothers and sisters, one cannot accomplish anything without first questioning the darkness that creates an assassin from such a baby.”

Over the past 15 years, if I have learnt anything about the importance of questioning, being curious, living together, struggling against injustice and rights violations, and corroding impact of discrimination and othering on society, it is largely because of the speeches delivered in all commemoration events as well as everything my Uncle Hrant wrote about the things he had to go through, and the horrendous, brutal end he had to suffer.

My Uncle Hrant once said, and I quote:

“I know three languages.
Armenian, Kurdish, and Turkish.
These three languages never fight inside me,
They live together in peace!”

When I was a child, people would say “He will never be able to talk”. Yet today, I am able to speak three languages including my native Turkish. I am very careful to make sure that these languages live inside me without fighting among themselves, that they help me acquire more knowledge. For my Uncle Hrant had taught so, how can I ever forget this?  

During his commemoration address on 19 January 2015, eight years after Uncle Hrant’s assassination, writer-poet Murathan Mungan made the following remarks: “Babies born then have learned to speak, to read and write. The dead body of Hrant Dink, however, still lies spread on this sidewalk as the victim of a murder, the true story of which has still not been brought to light. Those who leave the world in desolation with their loss, multiply life with their memories and with what they have entrusted us... And we who are watching over that entrusted legacy have been meeting here for the last eight years to voice our quest for justice and truth, to cry out that we will not abandon Hrant’s dead body to the ruthless hands of oblivion.” Over the past 15 years, on various occasions and events, I have seen and experienced how our quest for justice, our struggle for peace, our desire for living together, and our need for freedom continued without subsiding. During his address, Murathan Mungan also said, and I quote: “When justice remains undone, it multiplies its murderers and its victims.” If Uncle Hrant would have known about the precious people and children we lost in the last 15 years, my elder brothers we lost during the Gezi Park events, doves of peace murdered in Ankara, I am sure he would also endorse this sentence.

In 2019, I was already 17 when I came to the commemoration on January 19^th. During her commemoration address, Filiz Ali, the daughter of Sabahattin Ali remarked, and I quote: “Dear Hrant, even so, we are not that hopeless. There are those who do not remain silent, we are still here, we do not go anywhere, we do not give up. Those who were only children at the time of your assassination, are here today, together with us. They are going after your murders, asking questions, they do not remain silent." I felt very happy to hear her words, Filiz Ali was talking about me, she was calling out right to me.

In 2020, in her address, my beloved Professor Şebnem Korur Financı dwelled upon seeking the truth and never giving up. She said, and I quote: “The quest for justice is not coming to an end, it has never ended. Even if they drag along Saturday Mothers/People on the ground, even if they jail those that cry out the truth, even if they crack down on us to suppress us with crimes against humanity, we will not give up, as Hrant did never give up on speaking the truth. It is not our cause to nurture hatred towards evil. Our cause is an infinite struggle. So that people do not get carried away with the banality of evil, and they continue their struggle for rights without bowing down to the power.” At that very moment, I felt relief. Sometimes you might feel that certain words have been uttered only for you. As I grew older, on every January 19^th, I have kept making a promise, and I will keep that promise: I shall not forget, I shall not give up!

I am only one out of millions of young people who are gravely concerned about the future of this country, yet who do not refrain from speaking out. I will continue my struggle to be able to say “We are here Ahparig, we don’t give up!” for my Uncle Hrant, for justice, for peace, for a life free from discrimination, for our shared dream of a free, democratic, just, and peaceful Turkey. I will read a lot, heed a lot, watch a lot, and share a lot.

For I always remember the very last words my Uncle Hrant wrote, for I will always carry inside a “dovelike disquiet”…

I would like to thank each and every one of you for coming here today along with the disquiet dove inside you."

"My beloved Chutag,

It has been 15 years since the treacherous bullets fired in your back took you away from us. Your voice is still in our ears. Every time you talked about what happened to your people, they blamed you with treachery, and backstabbing…

My Lord, You tell us to “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you”.* So, I keep praying.

***

It has been 15 years. 15 years of your absence. Those who were a child back then are now grown up, just like Nazım. Whatever problem we fail to solve, we land upon their shoulders. As if we are not the real owners of the problem, we drag young people to the frontline.

Whereas, if we did not have such a bloody legacy, they could dream and build a different future together with their peers from across the world respecting all their differences. They have already inherited so many problems to deal with. I don’t know how many earthquakes await us. Let us unlock this history to set free the anguished souls. Truth is the solid rock where we will build upon our house. Truth is a solid, steady rock.

Our children are getting squeezed between their own fears and dreams for the future and the painful legacy of their elders. They either harm themselves or others. Yet, if they come together and flow like water, no one can stand up against them. This world has witnessed way too many tyrants, too many cruelties. But every cloud has a silver lining. Sultans, emperors, kings, they were all toppled in a day. They shall be toppled again.

In our village, there were those who would wait by the fountain or the bridge with their weapons, racketeering. They were called bandits. Later, they hid their weapons behind some pieces of paper. They called themselves a state, a company. On these papers, they wrote down their own laws and rules. We did believe in them. I appeal to you our dearest children, do not believe in them.

Do not believe in those who claim “ownership” over things that do not belong to anyone! Do not believe in those who claim “ownership” over things that belong to everyone! 

Every time people have voiced their criticism in these lands, they have blamed it on foreign powers. It’s true. What lies inside you is exterior to them. Every time you have burnt inside, they have always complained about the smoke and closed their windows.

During the Gezi resistance, young people – first and foremost – strived to protect their own city, and then they grew in number to protect their friends facing persecution. They were also labeled as foreign powers, as terrorists, and so on and so forth. Our children’s eyes were scratched out, they were choked with gas and poisonous water. Our children were killed. Who was the one terrorizing? Besides, it was quite extraordinary for so many young people to come together with such minimal shatter.

And today, there is an ongoing prosecution conducted with the pieces of papers they have penned themselves. How on earth is that possible?

“You rulers, do you indeed speak justly?
  Do you judge people with equity?
  No, in your heart you devise injustice,
  and your hands mete out violence on the earth.”**

***

My beloved Chutag,

Every time you were asked about terror, you condemned it. And you responded by raising the issue of the Terror of Power. And you condemned it too. What you meant was the unlawful deeds of the state power. The world has seen many terrorizing acts, and it continues to witness so…It was the case before you, and after you…The ones that secure a grip on power start practicing persecution. Among them, who can blame whom? It is always the people that bear the brunt. On every January 19^th, as we remember you, we also strive to recall and remind of other persecutions. Perhaps if we put together all these pieces of photos, if we look at this painful photo album altogether, we may also expose the real murderer…

Have you seen how they chased after Kutlu Adalı? Another journalist from Cyprus. We have pointed out the true origins of the terrorizing acts in these lands, are we proven wrong?

The Holy Bible reads as follows: “Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.”***

They have been keeping our friends in jail for years. Releasing one, incarcerating the other. Based on non-sensical grounds, justifications, and lies… They no longer bother to make up a justification, they simply detain them by saying “so, it goes”. They have detained young lawyers who have been coming to the aid of each problem in the country, they have detained journalists, just as they jailed Osman and Bircan… They have detained every single politician uttering “I am a Kurd”. All they wish to see is speaking weapons, not humans. They continue to impose their own language.

Regardless of all, let us not dash any hopes.

The voice of indignation, rebellion, and objection that roared up right from here as we buried you has never kept silent, and it shall never remain silent. Workers, women, students, villagers are all resisting yet again. They strive to protect what belongs to everyone as well as what belongs to no one from those who claim “ownership” over them. One day, they will unite again and flow like water.

Some are heartbroken. They keep asking “Where have you been when we were suffering?”. It was clearly not our intention to do so. We have done our best to stand by them and amplify their voices.  And we will continue to do so.

Your voice is still in our ears. You have our word.

 * Luke.6:27
** Psalm 58:1–2
*** Ephesians 5:11