My Orientalism Is Better Than Yours

As a Turkish artist, one might argue that Michelangelo is not among your ancestral inspirations! Even if you admired Jules Verne during your early years, you could not forget his origins. Eventually, a time comes when your "friends" claim that the world you inhabit does not belong to you. A citizen from a neighboring country merely 10 km away may be deemed part of a "civilization" despite their limited knowledge of "Da Vinci," while a talented four-year-old who can skillfully replicate the Mona Lisa due to their profound love for Da Vinci is deemed an outsider. It doesn't end there; some even have the gall to say, "the land you live in isn't yours either." As if that weren't enough, someone might audaciously tell you, "You speak Turkish, but you don't look like one," and proceed to educate you with scientific arrogance on the so-called "true" appearance of a Turk.

In the end, my rendition of orientalism surpasses yours. The quintessential Turk is not "a dead one," as some shamelessly assert or inscribe, but rather one who has mastered the art of belly dancing.