Turkish, Kurdish
First Language(s): Turkish, Kurdish
Second Language(s):
English
Helin Yüksel writes between languages, cities, and selves. From Turkey and currently pursuing a master’s degree in Berlin, she explores gender in academia while experimenting with feminist literature in her creative work. Her writing delves into the layered nature of womanhood, belonging, and estrangement.
What was your favorite book as a child?
I began to love literature by experiencing it in my own language and within my own culture. I cannot quite recall my favorite book from childhood, but I can say that some of the moments I felt most connected to literature were while reading the works of Tezer Özlü and Zülfü Livaneli.
What was the original reason or motivation why you started writing creatively?
I started writing when I realized that simply speaking was not enough to express myself. At the age of 10 or 12, I found myself overwhelmed — by the ever-changing, unpredictable world around me, and by the complex world within me. My curiosity, fear, anger, and joy were too intense, too tangled to be unpacked in conversation. That is how it all started. As a child who felt too heavy for both her and the world she lived in, I turned to words to feel lighter. I ran to them, I pleaded with them, and they helped me breathe.
What was the most adventurous or thrilling thing you ever did/experienced?
Honestly, I have never been much of an adventurous person. While my friends were busy balancing on the edges of tall walls, I was always the one standing firmly on the ground, both feet planted — waiting in the safest corner I could find.
Still, if I had to name the most adventurous thing I have ever done, it would be this: putting all my loved ones into a suitcase through a few photographs and moving to an entirely different country — alone, voiceless, rootless. Trying to grow new roots in unfamiliar soil may be the boldest thing I have ever done.
Do you listen to music while reading or writing?
When I write, sometimes I listen to music, sometimes I do not. There are moments when tuning into someone else's emotions, through their lyrics and melodies, blocks my own words from surfacing. On those days, I silence every sound around me just to hear myself more clearly. But other times, I write while immersing myself in the background noise of other lives — maybe I am unknowingly telling the story of the woman who ordered coffee just before me at a café. Maybe I am channeling the sorrows of someone who started their journey long before I did.
So, do I write with music or not? I suppose it depends. I write based on how I feel that day, what my heart needs, what my words ask for.
Essay
Your Anger Is Entrusted to Me
Issue Fall '25
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