Dear Shameless Death and Wees Onzichtbaar (Be Invisible) in the Context of Coming-of-Age and Culture

Growing up is a universal human experience, yet the path to adulthood is rarely a straight line. It is a journey shaped by the world around us: the family we are born into, the culture that surrounds us, and the specific rules a society expects us to follow. In the study of literature, a specific type of story has long been used to map this journey. Known as the "coming-of-age" novel, these stories track a young person's shift from childhood to adulthood, focusing on how they learn to understand themselves and their place in the world. For a long time, these stories mostly featured boys navigating a supportive society, but modern writers have expanded the genre to include girls and young people from marginalized backgrounds who face much steeper climbs. They explore how identity is formed not just by personal choice, but by the heavy weight of tradition, the pressure of poverty, and the struggle to be seen in a world that often looks away.

A recent study by Nazli Gündüz, a researcher at Ankara Hacı Bayram Veli University, examines two such stories to understand how young people find their voices when the world tries to silence them. The study compares a Turkish novel called Dear Shameless Death by Latife Tekin with a Dutch novel titled Be Invisible by Murat Işık. While these books were written in different countries and at different times, they share a powerful common thread: both tell the story of a young person moving from a small, traditional home to a large, complex city, and both show how that move forces a painful but necessary awakening. Gündüz's analysis suggests that in both cases, the path to self-discovery is not a smooth walk, but a fierce battle against the expectations of family and society.

The first story, Dear Shameless Death, follows a young girl named Dirmit in Turkey during the 1960s. Dirmit moves with her family from a small rural village to the bustling city of Istanbul. In her village, life is governed by strict, old-fashioned rules where a girl's role is to be quiet, obedient, and invisible. Dirmit, however, is curious. She wants to read, write poetry, and understand the world around her. Her family, particularly her mother and brothers, sees her curiosity as dangerous and rebellious. When she tries to express herself, she is met with physical punishment and harsh scolding. Her family believes that a girl's value lies in her silence and her ability to follow tradition, not in her thoughts or her dreams.

Despite this pressure, Dirmit refuses to be broken. She finds a way to keep her inner world alive by talking to inanimate objects, like a water pump, and by writing poetry that her family tries to destroy. Gündüz notes that Dirmit's journey is a fight against a system that treats women as "the other," or less than men. Her brothers are allowed to go out and see the world, while she is kept inside. Her desire to learn is treated as a crime. Yet, through her imagination and her refusal to accept the limits placed on her, Dirmit slowly builds a sense of self. She realizes that the rules her family follows are not natural laws, but human-made barriers. Her story shows that growing up for a girl in this context means learning to resist the very people who are supposed to love her, in order to become her own person.

The second story, Be Invisible, takes place in the Netherlands during the 1980s and 1990s. It follows Metin, a boy born in Turkey but raised in the Bijlmer district of Amsterdam. The Bijlmer was once a modern housing project, but by the time Metin grows up there, it has become a place associated with poverty and neglect. Metin is part of a second-generation immigrant family, meaning he was born in a new country but raised with the traditions of his parents' homeland. He faces a different kind of pressure than Dirmit. He is not fighting against the idea that girls should be silent; he is fighting against being ignored entirely. In his school and neighborhood, he is treated as an outsider. His classmates mock him for his background, calling him names that reduce him to a stereotype. He feels invisible, as if he does not truly exist in the eyes of Dutch society.

Inside his own home, Metin faces another layer of difficulty. His father is a strict, authoritarian figure who demands that Metin succeed in school to prove that the family's sacrifices were worth it. His father is distant and often angry, creating a tense atmosphere where Metin feels he can never do enough. Unlike Dirmit, who fights alone, Metin finds strength in his friendships. He connects with other young people who understand his struggle, and through them, he begins to find his voice. He learns to reject the labels others put on him and to define himself on his own terms. Gündüz points out that Metin's journey is about moving from a state of "invisibility," where he hides to avoid pain, to a state of visibility, where he claims his right to be seen and heard.

When Gündüz places these two stories side by side, a clear picture emerges. Both Dirmit and Metin are young people trying to grow up in environments that try to keep them small. For Dirmit, the barrier is gender; she is told that her mind and her dreams do not matter because she is a girl. For Metin, the barrier is culture and class; he is told that he does not belong because he is an immigrant. Yet, both authors show that the process of growing up involves a deep internal struggle. It is not just about learning facts or getting older; it is about realizing that the world is not fair and deciding to live anyway.

The study highlights that while the specific challenges are different, the core experience is the same. Both protagonists start by accepting the rules of their families and communities, but they eventually realize that these rules are holding them back. They begin to question why they must be silent or invisible. This questioning is the spark of self-awareness. It is the moment they stop seeing themselves as objects to be controlled and start seeing themselves as people with their own lives. The author of the novels use elements like childhood memories, the power of imagination, and the harsh reality of nature to show this transformation. They show that self-discovery often happens in the quiet moments when a young person decides to trust their own feelings over the loud demands of others.

One of the most important findings in the study is that these stories are not just fiction; they are deeply connected to the real lives of the author. Latife Tekin moved from a village to Istanbul as a child, just like Dirmit. Murat Işık grew up in the Bijlmer, just like Metin. This connection gives the stories a raw, honest quality. They are not just made-up tales; they are reflections of real struggles with identity, migration, and family. By writing these stories, the author is not only telling us about their own pasts but also giving a voice to millions of others who feel caught between two worlds.

The research concludes that the "coming-of-age" story is more relevant today than ever before. It is no longer just a story about a boy finding his way in a supportive world. It has become a powerful tool for understanding how people from all backgrounds navigate the complex web of modern life. Whether it is a girl in 1960s Turkey fighting for the right to write poetry, or a boy in 1990s Amsterdam fighting to be seen as a person, the journey is the same. It is a journey from being defined by others to defining oneself. The study shows that while the obstacles may look different on the surface, the courage required to overcome them is universal. These stories remind us that growing up is not a passive event that happens to us; it is an active process of resistance, resilience, and the relentless pursuit of who we truly are.