“The point is, art never stopped a war and never got anybody a job. That was never its function. Art cannot change events. But it can change people. It can affect people so that they are changed... because people are changed by art – enriched, ennobled, encouraged – they then act in a way that may affect the course of events... by the way they vote, they behave, the way they think.” Leonard Bernstein
Americans in Turkey received the below security alert yesterday morning. It told them that the U.S. Consulate in Aldana was closing temporarily due to anticipated demonstrations related to events in Israel and Gaza that may turn violent. Government officials were instructed to minimize movements and to avoid travel to the consular district. U.S. Citizens were told to avoid protests and to keep a low profile, among other common sense suggestions.
Below is the content of an email I received yesterday from Emily Lupita, a young woman who grew up just south of me in Monroe County who now lives in Turkey:
“I’m standing on my balcony in a small neighborhood apartment complex in Ankara, an ancient city on the famous Silk Road and now the capital of Türkiye. My balcony is enclosed with sliding glass windows and I can see three grandmothers gathered at the vegetable truck (like an ice cream truck, but full of veggies) that’s parked beside the playground at the center of the complex. They are buying salatalıklar, soğanlar, domates, ve yeşil biberler (cucumbers, onions, tomatoes, and green peppers). A woman shouts her order down from the top floor balcony and slowly lowers a bucket tied to a rope over the edge to collect the fresh produce. The song of the ezan, the Islamic call to prayer, echoes between the cement-block buildings as I pause at the window to look up at the sky.
My two young sons, Charlie Ozan and Archie Zafer, are playing in our small apartment salon – our living room. Charlie is 8 years old and was diagnosed with profound Autism at age 18 months. He was non-verbal for years and was given a dim prognosis from his team of American pediatric neurologists from the get-go. He’s sitting on top of the table furiously drawing a series of different colored circles in what appears to be his very first meaning-infused artwork.
“Planets!” Charlie’s younger brother, Archie, shouts out in absolute joy. “Look, Mama! Planets!”
Archie was also diagnosed with Autism at age 18 months. Now 5 years old, Archie is verbal and social, and enjoying a season of excelled development since we moved here to Türkiye almost three years ago. Archie loves his older brother with such profuse enthusiasm, and often speaks up for him. Archie encourages Charlie and invites him into some sort of interaction, like he’s doing now with Charlie’s new drawing. We’re all so excited for such a big breakthrough with Charlie’s artwork.
This beautiful moment is happening against the backdrop of the horrific violence and brutality of war in the region I now call home – the Middle East. I was born and raised in rural Monroe County, Iowa, and I’ve just read the devastating news out of Chicago – out of my Midwest America – about an Islamophobia hate crime involving the murder of a 6-year-old boy there. His name was Wadea and he was stabbed 26 times by his landlord. My heart…I look at my two beautiful sons playing peacefully…and my heart is breaking into pieces.
No. No. No.
My two sons are Turkish-Mexican-American. Their multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, multi-national, multi-faith identity is a direct reflection of my international journey of twenty+ years across fifteen+ continents. In my communion over the years and miles with people from such diverse places as Japan, Mexico, Wales, Türkiye, Spain, Morocco, and more – the one thread that runs through my experience is that the people I’ve met have the desire to be seen as a fellow human. Each with their own unique visions and dreams for life, yes. But infused within their specific uniqueness, that common thread of humanity reaches out.
Virtually every day, I walk out of my apartment and enter a world that is profoundly different than the small Iowa town where I grew up, a rural farming community that I hold so dear in my heart. I now live in a mountainous city of over 6 million people. I interact daily with co-workers, neighbors, friends, and strangers who have very different foundational cultural beliefs than I do. Nearly every single day I find myself confused, awed, confounded, exhilarated, and helped by someone I just met.
In difficult times like these, when the world seems to be falling apart right in front of us, I find myself ever more grateful for these peaceful, respectful interactions that I have each day. I feel ever more grateful for the willingness of most people I’ve met around the world to see me as an individual person, and to embrace me as their fellow human, as I intend to embrace them.
The world needs the light of this embrace, now more than ever.”
-Emily Lupita
Here is a little more about Emily from her website:
Emily Lupita is an American Latina author & illustrator. She grew up in rural Monroe County, Iowa, and earned a BA from Central College + MFA from Iowa State University. She writes the Emily Lupita ❤️🔥 Series on Substack and also publishes books of her artwork + stories for children. Her most recent book, I Believe in Seeds: Affirmations for Rewilding, received a grant from Iowa Natural Heritage Foundation.
Emily Lupita is the winner of the Faulkner-Wisdom Creative Writing Competition Gold Medal in Poetry and the Atlanta Review International Publication Prize. Her poetry has been published in journals including Poetry International, North American Review, Portland Review, The Chattahoochee Review, International Poetry Review, and in the anthology Poetic Voices Without Borders 2.
Emily Lupita was previously an international education professional. She served as a program coordinator on study abroad programs and also taught ESL, Beginning Spanish, and World Literature in multiple countries including Spain, Japan, Ecuador, Mexico, Türkiye, and the United States. She is now a Mama + caregiver for her two sons with exceptional needs, and is launching a new book series called Autism Brothers Books that features her two boys as the main characters on exciting travel adventures.
Emily and her boys could use our help in a couple of ways to further the mission of Autism Brothers Books.
Emily has started a Kickstarter campaign to fund the publication of her book series. She also has a Substack where you can follow her journey. Please consider subscribing, and if you can afford it, please support the work of this artist. She also has a website where you can buy her books and art. Merch too!
I don’t believe I have ever met Emily, but I consider her a friend and want to support her work. I hope you want to help too. Her Dad, Joe Plum, and I have been friends for many years, and so I know her that way—you know, how friends can “know” other friends kids even if we have never met. Joe is a poet in the Bardic tradition, and his work can be found at American Bardic Poet. I’ll be writing about him soon. He’s amazing, and like nothing you have ever heard.
I was on the Knoxville library board when Emily was one of several winners of a competition where we commissioned art for our library expansion. The theme was “community” and here is Lupita and her friend at the Knoxville Public Library (the Knoxville school mascot is a panther).
Click here to learn more about Emily and this work of art.
Before we go, please consider supporting Emily with her Kickstarter, her Substack, or her website.
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I follow Emily on Substack and find her to be a kind and beautiful person. We've had some lovely communication between us. I urge people to follow her column and will send out a recommendation for just that from my column. Thank you for posting her letter.
Mr. Leonard, I was just trying to cut down on the number of substacks I subscribe to. I am now adding and supporting Ms. Lupita. Least I can do. (I tutor a child on the spectrum and have an adult nephew and other relatives also on the spectrum --both used to be referred to as autistic).