May 15th Kurdish Language Day
Language is more than communication..
Language is memory. It carries mentality, history, feelings, morals, ethics, and a people’s relationship with nature. Through language, an understanding of how people feel, think, and live with each other emerges.
Every language tells the story of a society.
For many people around the world, their native language is a given. They grow up with it, learn in it, dream in it, and naturally pass it on to their children. However, not every people has had this privilege.
The Kurdish people are among the societies from whom the right to freely speak, learn, and publicly live their own language has been taken away for decades.
We still see the consequences of this today.
Many Kurdish men and women do not speak their mother tongue, or only to a limited extent, thereby losing access to a central part of their identity.
These issues are not individual failures. They are the result of decades of oppression, assimilation, and cultural violence.
May 15th and the History of Hawar
Since 2006, May 15th has been recognized as “Kurdish Language Day.” This date commemorates the first publication of the magazine Hawar (“The Cry”) in 1932.
The magazine, published in Damascus, is considered a milestone
in Kurdish literary and linguistic history. Between 1932
and 1943, a total of 57 issues were published. Hawar became
one of the most important initiatives in modern Kurdish
linguistic and cultural history and inspired generations of
writers, intellectuals, and linguists.
The first issue was published under the direction of Celadet Ali
Bedirxan, together with Kamûran Bedirxan, Qedrîcan, Osman
Sebrî, Cegerxwîn, and Nûredîn Zaza.
Hawar marked the beginning of a new phase in the development of Kurdish linguistics.
Initially, the magazine appeared in the Arabic alphabet. Later, issues were also published in the Latin alphabet. A decision that profoundly influenced the development and standardization of the written Kurdish language.
In the first issue, Celadet Ali Bedirxan wrote:
“Hawar is the voice of knowledge. Knowledge is
self-awareness. Knowing oneself opens the path to
liberation and beauty.”
These words show that language was never just language. It
was always connected with freedom, identity, and existence.
Bedirxan also wrote:
“For language is our main reason for existence.”
Precisely for this reason, the Kurdish language has been attacked for decades. Because whoever destroys the language of a people also attempts to erase their memory and identity.
But while Hawar preserved the Kurdish language in written, literary, and scientific forms, there was another place where the language had long been protected: the homes of Kurdish
families.
There, it was primarily women who kept the language alive.
The Systematic Suppression of the Kurdish Language
For hundreds of years, the Kurdish people have been physically and culturally targeted by a system of denial and annihilation. Especially since the founding of the Republic of Turkey in 1924,
a consistent policy of assimilation was pursued, with the aim of transforming a multi-ethnic state into a homogeneous nation-state.
In the spirit of Kemalist nationalism, every ethnic group was expected to culturally and linguistically subordinate itself to Turkishness. The existence of an independent Kurdish language and culture was systematically denied.
The use of the Kurdish language was forbidden and criminalized. In many regions, Kurdish could neither be spoken nor taught in schools. People were punished for speaking their own mother tongue. Kurdish music, literature, and art were also censored.
The oppression extended into everyday life: Kurdish names of people, villages, and cities were Turkified. Amed became Diyarbakır, Dêrsim became Tunceli, Riha became Şanlıurfa,
or Colemêrg became Hakkâri. Even letters like “q,” “x,” or “w,” which do not exist in Turkish, were forbidden.
Through resettlements, deportations, and state-forced assimilation, many Kurdish men and women lost not only their homeland but also access to their own language. Especially in public spaces and the education system, Kurdish was systematically suppressed. To this day, for millions of Kurdish people, no state educational institutions exist where they can freely learn their mother tongue.
Even though the official language ban was lifted in 1992, the Kurdish language remains severely restricted in public and institutional contexts. This decades-long policy has led to many Kurdish people being unable to speak their mother tongue, or only to a limited extent.
Yet, despite all these attempts to suppress it, the language never disappeared.
Kurdish singers, Dengbêj, and artists kept it alive. Songs were secretly listened to, passed on, and memorized. Precisely because the language was forbidden, it became a symbol of resistance.
Because language is not neutral.
It carries history, collective memories, pain, love, and its own understanding of the world.
A people who lose their language often also lose the connection to their own history.
Precisely for this reason, the protection of language must not be limited to a single one. All languages of Kurdistan are affected by assimilation and oppression. Armenians, Suryoye, and Arabs have been denied their identity for decades; their languages have been marginalized and suppressed.
The preservation of language is therefore not just the task of a single community, but a fundamental one. Every language carries history, culture, and identity within it and deserves to be
protected and passed on.
Why Women Became the Guardians of Language
And yet, the Kurdish language has survived.
Not through states.
Not through institutions.
Not through official education systems.
But primarily through women.
Those who, despite all colonial attacks, managed to preserve our language were our mothers and grandmothers. Especially the women from Botan and other regions of Kurdistan made an enormous contribution to the fact that the Kurdish language lives on to this day.
While the language was displaced from schools and public life, it persisted in homes.
There, it was carried by women.
The mother was often the first person through whom a child experienced language. Through her voice, her songs, her stories, and her patience, language was passed on, even in times of
fear and repression.
It is not without reason that we speak of “mother tongue.”
In Kurdish, it is called “zimanê dayîk,” in German “Muttersprache,” in English “mother tongue.” The word itself shows the deep connection between women and language.
Language is first conveyed to us by the mother.
Before a child can read or write, they learn language through proximity, feelings, gestures, glances, and repetition. Language first emerges in the safe space of the mother-child relationship.
Sounds become words.
Words become sentences.
And from language, identity emerges.
But this connection is not just linguistic or biological.
Today, in some scientific fields, attempts are being made to replace the term “mother tongue” with “first language.” However, especially in the Kurdish context, it is important to make this connection
visible.
Because historically, it was primarily women who preserved the language. They carried culture, stories, songs, and language even under colonial conditions.
The connection between mother and language is therefore not a romantic notion, but a societal reality.
Therefore, women are not only the mediators of language but also its preservers.
The history of women cannot be separated from our understanding of culture and language.
Language as a Carrier of Culture and Memory
Language is not only evident in what is said, but also in how something is said. It lives in idioms, imagery, emphasis, and the way feelings are expressed.
The Kurdish language, in particular, is very vivid. Many words and expressions are closely linked to nature, to mountains, seasons, plants, or animals. Feelings are also often
described through images deeply rooted in people’s way of life.
Thus, language becomes something living: it transmits experiences that have developed over generations and makes a particular view of the world tangible.
Therefore, when a language disappears, not only a means of communication is lost, but also this evolved understanding of the world.
The preservation of the Kurdish language is therefore not a nostalgic or romantic question, but a social and political one.
The Diaspora and the Lost Language
Especially in the diaspora, many Kurdish men and women experience an alienation from their own language.
Many parents could not pass on the language to their children, not out of indifference, but often out of fear, pressure to conform, or the consequences of their own experiences with oppression.
Many parents wanted to protect their children.
Many themselves had to experience their language being devalued.
Many never had the opportunity to properly learn to read or write in Kurdish.
The responsibility for this lies not solely with families, but with the political conditions created over generations.
Thus, a distance from one’s own language has arisen, which is still palpable today.
Our Task Today
Nevertheless, the question remains:
How do we deal with this today?
Perhaps resistance today begins with relearning one’s own language. Perhaps it begins with listening to Kurdish music more consciously, reading books, speaking Kurdish with
grandparents, or losing the fear of making mistakes.
Because language only lives if it is spoken.
To render all these attempts at suppression futile, we must consciously carry on our language today, not just symbolically, but in everyday life.
Speak Kurdish.
Write Kurdish.
Sing Kurdish.
Learn Kurdish.
Pass Kurdish on to children.
Because the mother tongue is the cornerstone of a culture and the spirit of a society.
The Kurdish language still lives today because women carried it. And it will only continue to live if we begin to make it a natural part of our everyday lives again.