In recent weeks, Türkiye’s cultural world has been shaken by an unprecedented wave of sexual harassment and assault allegations.
More than a hundred men across the arts have been named in testimonies shared on social media, marking what many describe as the country’s most wide-reaching reckoning with gendered violence in creative spaces.
The movement, which began with a single testimony, quickly snowballed as others came forward with their own experiences of abuse, assault, and coercion. Some accounts involve messages sent to minors, others describe coercive encounters in professional settings, while many point to patterns of manipulation and boundary violations long normalized in male-dominated industries.
For survivors, the decision to speak out now is as much about solidarity as it is about justice. Women say they are breaking years of silence, defying stigma, and insisting that, in their words, inspired by Gisele Pelicot, “shame must finally change sides.”
Within days of the first disclosure, what might have remained an isolated claim escalated into one of the largest public reckonings with sexual violence Türkiye has seen.
The first wave of accounts centered on male photographers accused of coercing women into nude shoots, sending explicit messages, or abusing professional power during sessions. Soon after, the accusations spread into music, theater, film, and publishing.
By late August, more than a hundred men had been identified in testimonies circulating on social media. Anonymous posts appeared alongside named allegations, creating a collective momentum that made silence harder to maintain. For many, the aim was not only to reveal individual acts but to expose systemic abuse in male-dominated cultural spaces.
The scope of this wave distinguishes it from earlier moments when women attempted to break the silence in Türkiye. The global #MeToo movement in 2017 and smaller social media campaigns in 2020 inspired testimonies, but those remained fragmented.
This time, institutions have been forced to respond: production companies, film festivals, online platforms, and professional associations have cut ties with accused figures. The women’s solidarity network Susma Bitsin (Speak Up To End), formed by professionals in cinema, television, and theater, stressed the collective nature of this moment: “We know there are many other survivors who are not yet ready to speak, and we believe them. We are here for all of them.”
Gulsum Kav, general representative of the We Will Stop Femicide Platform, also emphasized the significance of this shift while speaking to BBC: “We see that a collective consciousness is developing in society against violence. This is a very positive development.”
Survivors and women's rights advocacy groups describe the outpouring as more than a set of isolated accusations. Instead, they call it the emergence of a cultural moment in which women’s voices can no longer be ignored.
As testimonies multiplied, certain names quickly emerged at the center of the storm.
Among the most widely discussed is comedian and radio host Mesut Sure, accused by multiple women of harassment and attempted assault over more than a decade. One woman recounted that she was a university student when she was invited to Sure’s apartment under the pretense of a meal, where she resisted his attempts to restrain and kiss her.
“I used all my strength to fight him off,” she wrote, explaining why she had remained silent for 13 years. Following her post, others came forward with similar accounts. Sure denied the allegations, calling them a “smear campaign” and vowing to pursue legal action, yet the producers of his long-running show "Iliski Testi" (Relationship Test) announced they would cut ties, stating, “We stand with the survivors.”
Another prominent case involves filmmaker Selim Evci, accused by a woman of physically assaulting her during an internship interview in 2018. According to her post, she later received messages from another woman describing a similar experience, which she published anonymously.
Evci has denied all allegations, describing the claims as part of a “lynching attempt,” but the fallout was immediate: the streaming platform MUBI removed his films, and Akbank Sanat canceled its annual short film festival after severing ties with his company.
Allegations also surface in the world of acting. Actress Doga Lara Akkaya accused fellow actor Tayanc Ayaydin of harassment on the set of a television series in 2022, saying she was pressured to remain silent because of his seniority.
Ayaydin admitted sending an inappropriate message, apologized for what he called “thoughtless behavior,” but insisted he had not committed harassment.
Separately, photographer Dilan Bozyel alleged that she was assaulted at gunpoint at age 16 by actor Mehmet Yilmaz Ak, a charge he strongly denied, announcing legal proceedings against what he called false claims.
Other cases involved accusations against well-known figures in photography, including Mesut Adlin, who was alleged to have sent inappropriate messages to a minor. Adlin responded by filing a complaint with prosecutors himself, insisting he was the victim of “trial by social media.”
Taken together, these accounts reveal strikingly similar dynamics: men leveraging professional power and social status to harass, intimidate, or coerce women in environments where silence had long been expected.
Alongside anonymous testimonies and survivor accounts, prominent women in Türkiye’s arts world have stepped forward, lending their voices to the movement.
Their interventions signaled that the reckoning was no longer confined to isolated experiences, but was being embraced as a collective women's rights cause.
Singer Simge Sagin shared that she had been sexually abused as a child, writing on social media: “I was young, I was afraid, and I stayed silent. But now we know that silence only allows the so-called angels with devil faces to multiply. Those who harm will be revealed, one by one.” Her confessional and defiant statement resonated widely among fans and fellow artists.
Melek Mosso also revealed that she had been harassed multiple times since childhood, admitting that she had often struggled to even recognize such experiences as abuse. “Everyone I know has faced this at least once,” she said. “Your courage gives me and others strength.”
Fellow singer Kalben described being assaulted on a bus at 19, just after receiving the news that her mother would likely pass away, and was trying to rest before arriving at her final destination. She recalled the confusion and shame that kept her silent for years after friends who were with her on the bus suspected and blamed her instead. Both artists praised the current wave as a moment of collective healing.
Younger stars also voiced support. Pop singer Aleyna Tilki told her followers that disclosing abuse requires enormous courage: “When something like this happens, you feel more guilty than the perpetrator. You feel dirty— like their filthiness has rubbed on you. But this is not true. I see you, I hear you, and I will stand by you.”
Actress Aslihan Gurbuz amplified testimonies shared by colleagues and criticized the silence of those who continue to work with accused men. “If someone has abused you and is still my friend, tell me, and I will change that,” she said, calling for accountability within the industry.
Together, these high-profile interventions ensured that the wave of testimonies was not dismissed as an anonymous online outcry but recognized as part of a broader cultural awakening in Türkiye’s arts and entertainment world.
The rapid spread of testimonies not only implicates individuals but also compels institutions across Türkiye’s arts and media sector to respond.
In several cases, companies and cultural organizations moved quickly to distance themselves from the accused, signaling a level of institutional accountability rarely seen in previous waves of allegations.
In the film world, director Selim Evci’s case had immediate repercussions. The streaming platform MUBI removed his films from its catalog, while Akbank Sanat announced it was canceling its annual short film festival after severing ties with Evci’s company.
Both organizations stated they could not continue professional collaborations in light of the accusations, even as Evci denied wrongdoing and initiated legal proceedings.
The reverberations were also felt in publishing and criticism. After allegations against art critic Kultigin Kagan Akbulut, the online platform Argonotlar, which he founded, suspended its activities.
In a public statement, the editorial team acknowledged Akbulut’s admission of inappropriate conduct, declaring that “apology alone is not enough.” The platform also pledged to cut ties with other contributors named in testimonies and sought guidance from women's rights advocacy organizations to manage the process transparently.
Meanwhile, the Turkish branch of the International Association of Art Critics (AICA) confirmed that multiple members facing allegations, including Akbulut, Oguz Karayemis, and Ahmet Ergenc, had been referred to its ethics committee.
Professional networks and unions also issued public statements. The Actors’ Union acknowledged receiving reports of unethical behavior during auditions and rehearsals, including cases where young actors were allegedly pressured to undress under threat of blacklisting.
“Such violations are not only individual but systemic,” the union stated, urging survivors to report incidents and promising a safer, more transparent industry environment.
While the wave of disclosures has transformed public debate, survivors in Türkiye continue to face steep legal barriers if they wish to pursue formal justice.
Under Turkish law, most forms of sexual harassment are classified as “complaint-based crimes,” meaning survivors must file a complaint within six months of the incident for prosecutors to investigate.
For many women, this short window is incompatible with the reality of trauma, shame, and fear of professional retaliation. Even in aggravated cases, where prosecutors are expected to act without a complaint, lawyers note that investigations rarely proceed unless the survivor insists.
Lawyer Ceren Kalay Eken, former head of the Ankara Bar Association’s Women’s Rights Center, explained to BBC that sexual violence cases are inherently difficult to prove: “Very serious evidence is expected, and the process itself wears women down.” She added that in her experience, some women have come forward decades later, only once they felt psychologically ready.
The statistics reflect this gap between experience and judicial outcome.
These figures confirm what survivors argue: violence is widespread, but accountability is limited.
Observers also note that the problem is not confined to the arts. Women from more religious and conservative communities have hinted at similar experiences of harassment and coercion, stressing that disclosure in such circles is even harder because of family pressures and social stigma.
The principle of "kadin beyani esastir" (women’s testimony is essential) has become central to these debates. Women's rights advocacy lawyers argue that in crimes that usually occur behind closed doors, testimony must carry weight even without additional evidence. Opponents claim this undermines the presumption of innocence.
Yet legal experts such as Hulya Gulbahar stress that the two principles are not contradictory: “Presumption of innocence means treating someone as innocent until proven guilty. Deciding which rules apply during trial has nothing to do with violating that principle.”
Contextualizing Türkiye within global research highlights another dimension: the rarity of false allegations.
Even though Türkiye-specific data is not available, women's rights advocate lawyers emphasize that the overwhelming reality is not false reports but the deep reluctance of women to speak out at all.
Thus, many survivors' decision to share their testimony online is not an attempt to bypass justice but a way to make visible the systemic barriers that prevent it.
This wave has made two truths visible at once: survivors in Türkiye are speaking not only about individual harm but about structures that protect it, and institutions are finally being forced to choose between routine denial and meaningful accountability.
Allegations remain allegations; denials have been issued; legal processes will unfold. However, this outpouring of allegations shows that victims are actively refusing the scripts of shame and isolation, insisting that safety and dignity are non-negotiable in creative life.
Even though many claim that such allegations can quickly spiral into smear campaigns, it is crucial to remember that the possibility of a false allegation is statistically low and the stigma that comes with such confessions is incredibly challenging. Questions of "why were you there", "what were you wearing", "did you do it for the fame" and "why now" already encircle the victims that have come forward.
Researchers and legal experts stress that consistent patterns across testimonies are themselves a form of evidence, particularly in cases where survivors have little to gain and much to lose by speaking out.
Furthermore, there are multiple examples of convicted sexual harassment, domestic violence and other abuse perpetrators pursuing a successful career both in Türkiye and abroad. The key detail is that in a society where being a victim of sexual assault is so stigmatized and perpetrators are so protected, there is little chance that women come forward with fake allegations at the expense of their own reputations and careers, since such confessions are often penalized socially and professionally.
This being said, a victim should never be blamed, silenced and punished for the crime of perpetrators. It is refreshing to see that women and other marginalized individuals have found the courage to speak up in order to make the arts sector safer for everyone.
In the end, as women’s rights advocates have long insisted worldwide, no one is free until we are all free.