Story:

This photo was taken when I was 19 years old, just as I was starting to travel and live my life independently. It was taken the day before my best friend and I left on a two-month solo trip with almost no money. For me, this photo symbolises courage and freedom. At that moment, nothing had happened yet—the story hadn’t begun. It was simply the night before the journey, in my hometown, while we were getting ready to leave.

The photo was taken by a mutual friend who had an old Polaroid camera. She took it so we could have a memory from before the trip. I don’t remember exactly how many copies there were, and I actually received the photo after we came back. It didn’t travel with me during the journey, but it stayed with me afterward as a reminder of that moment.

When I look at the photo now, the first feeling that comes to me is courage, mixed with the feeling of the unknown. I had no idea what was going to happen. It was one of my first big trips, travelling to a country that felt difficult to reach because of financial reasons, because I was a girl, and because even travelling with another girl wasn’t something people found easy or acceptable. During those two months, we slept on the streets, experienced things we never imagined we would, got robbed, and sometimes had to run from people to protect ourselves. But this photo was taken before all of that—before anything happened.

I left my hometown because I grew up in a small town where, even though it wasn’t religious or conservative, people felt very closed-minded. If you have curiosity, ambition, or courage toward life, you eventually feel that you can’t fulfill your potential there. It’s the kind of place many young people try to escape from. I left for the first time when I was 17. I never truly felt at home there, even though I have a few close friends from that place. Living there felt constraining, especially in terms of connections and personal growth.

It’s difficult for me to talk about my experience there as a woman, because when you’re 17, you’re not yet a grown woman. My life feels divided into childhood there and life outside of it. Still, I can say that living in Istanbul is very different. It’s not really comparable. In Istanbul, I feel more free to express myself. In my hometown, people are often small-minded, and even alternative art doesn’t feel truly alternative. Artistic communities are small, and many people try to appear as artists without really creating, or if someone is genuinely talented, they stand alone and receive all the attention.

In Istanbul, it’s easier to find a community and to express yourself more freely. It’s more liberating, not only as a woman but also as an immigrant. You don’t fully belong to the local cultural codes, and that distance gives you freedom. You can experiment more with your ideas, feel less judged, and feel more comfortable expressing yourself.

What I wish, in general, is that women would build stronger communities to support each other creatively. In many countries, including mine, the art field was historically male-dominated. Even though today many artists are women, their work is often valued less. I wish women would support each other more in creative fields, and that art would be valued by women themselves, not through male validation.

– Naya Kirichenko