State restrictions and gender-based violence in cross-border marriages: The case of Kyrgyz women in Türkiye

Marriage is not a primary motivation for migration

The Kyrgyz Consulate in Istanbul estimates that more than 27,000 Kyrgyz citizens are living and/or working in Türkiye in 2021 and that most of them are women. Most of them work as domestic care workers, as multilingual tourism workers, as sales representatives in textile as well as petty traders. Among other factors, the change of political regime in 2010 and Russia’s increasing control over migrants from Central Asian countries in the last decade made Türkiye a viable option for many women from Kyrgyzstan where their gendered labor is also demanded. ¹ Kyrgyz women are one of the largest migrant groups in cross-border marriages after women from Syria, Russia, Ukraine, Azerbaijan and Uzbekistan (Turkish Statistical Institute, 2022). Intimacies between Kyrgyz women and local men is visible especially in southern cities like Antalya as well as in Istanbul where migrants from Kyrgyzstan usually work.

We interviewed 14 women in Istanbul and Antalya cities, 11 of whom were married to Turkish men at the time of the interview; we also interviewed three women who were either previously married or were single at the time of the interview. Seven of the 11 married women were officially (civil) married while four women were in religious marriage (imam nikahı) and had a previous marriage experience in Kyrgyzstan or Türkiye. The three unmarried women we interviewed were active in the Kyrgyz community in Istanbul, Antalya and Alanya. One of them owns an employment agency business, another runs a hostel and the third one engages in small-scale trading between Türkiye and Kyrgyzstan. Their experiences of living in Türkiye provided additional insights to the study. Among the 11 married participants, most got married between 2007 and 2015 in Türkiye. Seven of them were previously married before coming to Türkiye and two of them had married twice in Türkiye. Except for two respondents, the rest had either Türkish citizenship or permanent residence.

Respondents were between 32 and 55 years old and mostly came from big cities such as Bishkek or Talas. All the Kyrgyz respondents had children and half of them were in their second or third marriage. The children of the women from their first husbands in Kyrgyzstan remained in the origin country. Except for three women, all of them had university degrees with different majors such as literature, engineering, accountancy and media studies or had attended the police academy. Most of them speak several languages including Russian, Turkish and English. All the women had previously worked in Kyrgyzstan and were economically active in Türkiye before they got married. Prior to their marriage in Türkiye, they had worked as tourism workers, domestic workers, petty traders, interpreters, online teachers or sales assistants.

The interviews with Kyrgyz women suggest that their initial motivation for migration is not marriage. When we asked women about their aspirations, most of them expressed their economic difficulties and gendered responsibilities, such as paying for children’s school expenses, the economic expectations imposed on them and the possibility of marriage. For example, Aruuzat (55 years old, housewife, Turkish citizen) decided to go to Türkiye after her mother’s illness. She had quit her job in the military and went to Türkiye. Some women like Gulce (33 years old, divorced with a daughter, non-Turkish citizen) and Melek (35 years old, divorced with children, non-Turkish citizen) who had previous marriage experience and children in Kyrgyzstan, mentioned that their violent marriages pushed them to migrate. Although unemployment was not the primary reason to migrate, most women complained about the low wages and hard-working environment in Kyrgyzstan. Most respondents were employed in Kyrgyzstan as public employees or as translators, salespersons or accountants in the private sector. The average monthly wage in Kyrgyzstan, as in other Central Asian countries, was around USD 50 which was one-third of the minimum wage in Türkiye in the 2010s, when the majority of respondents came to Türkiye. The stories show that finding a better job is usually accompanied with the desire to find a “better husband.” In another case, Aybike’s (37 years old, English teacher, Turkish citizen) job dissatisfaction with her teaching job and desire to get married encouraged her to migrate.

I was really exhausted both psychologically and bodily, I worked three years in my country. I was single then, my mother told me to get married as I was getting older. I wanted to marry a guy who was a few years older than me, but there are more women than men in Kyrgyzstan. There is male scarcity [in Kyrgyzstan], all of them [men] were married.

Although migrant women can easily find a job in the gendered segments of the labor market, they have difficulties in staying and accessing permits in Türkiye. There are legal requirements such as having a six-month resident permit before applying for a work permit through an employer and a long bureaucratic process with no guarantee to access (Şenses, 2020), this sometimes leads to marriage being seen as a way to secure a woman’s stay in the country. Batma (55 years old, small-scale trader, permanent resident) explains how she married the owner of the hotel where she used to work in Antalya.

I came to Istanbul in 2007 and then went to Antalya to earn some money from live-in childcare job. I was told that I could earn as much as USD 500 per month but when I went there an agency took USD 300 from me, then they sent me to a boutique hotel outside of Antalya center. I was cleaning the rooms. I had only tourist visa for 30 days and then my visa expired. I applied for a work permit but could not get it as it requires six months resident permit before applying for a work-related permit. I was not informed about this. So, the owner offered me his help. We tried every way to get a work permit, but the police asked me to leave the country, so I became undocumented. […] There was a real estate agency and a Russian speaking boy in Antalya said that the only way we could get resident permit was through marriage. (Batma, 55 years old)

“Boy meets girl:” The role of social media

The Internet has an important role as a tool for introduction and correspondence between men and women which might lead to face-to-face meeting (Constable, 2003; Del Rosario, 2005; Williams, 2012). Meeting over social media has also become a common way for post-Soviet women and Turkish men in the last decade (Deniz and Özgür, 2021). Almost half of the respondents met their husbands through social media or through social networks before coming to Türkiye. Without a doubt, there is a strong demand for intimacies with migrant women by men in Türkiye. Ahmet (43 years old, public health worker, Turkish citizen), who was well known by his co-workers for his relationships with “foreign” women in Antalya, reported that there are many men in Antalya who contact women through social media. He told us that men may send hundreds of messages by random search of women on Facebook, like “fishing in a pond.” Despite the risk involved in meeting men online and the stories of violence, women take the initiative and make decisions to connect and engage in intimacy actively. ²

The contact between the two parties begins when a woman replies to a message on Facebook. As the chatting develops, it may lead to the offer of a plane ticket to Türkiye. For example, Eliza (37 years old, owner of an employment agency, Turkish citizen) met her future husband though social media and came to Antalya to live with him without even seeing him in person. “There are hundreds of our girls who came here only by meeting on Facebook,” she says. Maya’s (36 years old, current housewife, part-time communications consultant for a political party, Turkish citizen) story is also typical:

I think he found me [on Facebook], liked my photo and sent me a request. I accepted and then replied “do I know you?” Because I wondered why a stranger should send me a friendship request. He replied that he did not know me. So, we started conversing and had a long-distance relationship for a year. I was in Bishkek. I came to Istanbul a few times, he came to Bishkek, then we got married in 2013. (Maya, 36 years old)

Legal procedures of citizenship through marriage in Türkiye

Getting married in Türkiye is a long and difficult process and marriage to a Turkish citizen does not automatically grant citizenship to the foreign spouse. Following marriage, migrant women either apply for a two- or three-year family resident permit or a short-term resident permit for one year. Although there are more than 116,739 family resident permits issued for migrant spouses as of 21 December 2023 (Presidency of Migration Management, 2023), many migrant spouses stay using a short-term resident permit due to detailed paperwork requirements and bureaucracy to obtain family resident permits. ³ Applying for these permits take at least six months and require the following documents: Resident permit (visa), a resident paper, proof of monthly income of the spouse, private health insurance and a clean criminal record in some cases. For those applying for a family permit, they additionally require a birth certificate and marital status paper which must be translated and verified by the apostille system. ⁴ Gathering these documents takes time, energy and money from migrant women. Indeed, women usually collect these documents and cover the expenses on their own as their husbands were usually low-waged workers. For example, Eliza (37 years old) had to pay USD 300 to get her document to prove her unmarried status from Kyrgyzstan and spent 2,000 Turkish lira (TRY) (around USD 1,300 in 2011) on documentation and expenses including a visit to Istanbul.

According to the law, the acquisition of Turkish citizenship by marriage requires “living within the unity of family” for at least three years (The Citizenship Law, 2009). The legislation also requires the migrant spouse to have a clear criminal record (Article 16) and to behave in a way “compatible with the unity of marriage.” It can be argued that the latter requirement points to stereotypes of the moral behavior of female migrant spouses and demonstrates the gendered nature of cross-border marriages which mostly involve migrant women and Turkish men. The Law on Foreigners and International Protection (LFIP, 2013) also points to the possibility of “fake marriages” and warns of “not getting married for gaining a resident permit” (Article 35-3c). The law emphasizes that if there is “reasonable doubt” of a fake marriage, the couple can be investigated, and resident permit applications can be rejected (Article 37). These subjective conditions and suspicions mean that couples are subject to investigation for security check and immoral behavior by a local commission (Article 18). In other words, although there is no reference to the gender of the migrant spouse, these measures and restrictions are directed towards women instead of men as the migrant spouse is usually a woman. Deniz and Özgür (2021) explain these restrictions and the control the state takes over migrant women given women’s biological and cultural reproduction roles.

The process involves a detailed investigation headed by the local Registration Office (İl Nüfus Müdürlüğü). The investigation and the interviews are made by a commission consisting of officials from governmental bodies such as the migration department, registration office and the police or gendarmerie. Although there are no standard questions, the financial circumstances of the husband, the migrant spouse’s knowledge of Turkish language and determination to settle down in Türkiye are stated in Article 11 of the Citizenship Law (The Citizenship Law, 2009). During the interrogation, couples are separately questioned by the commission. According to the respondents, they were asked questions such as marriage motivation, how they met their husband before marriage, family income and possessions, information about the husband and relatives, even the dinner they had the day before, the color of their husband’s toothbrush or favorite things. On the official side, experts from Antalya Provincial Directorate of Migration Management explain how they suspect “fake marriages.” They mentioned several indications of a fake marriage: There is an age gap or no common language between couples, visa violation or any visa restriction for the migrant spouse, low income of the husband or marriage within a short time.

During the three-year period of marriage when women are not yet eligible for citizenship, women have to deal with the general assumption that theirs is a marriage of convenience, especially if they come from post-Soviet countries. When couples register with the local Migration Management Office, the police investigation starts. Each year, the police visit the house of the resident, ask the neighbors questions and interrogate the women before extending the resident permit. Maya (36 years old) explains the initial process as follows:

They have to believe that the documents are genuine. They separately question me and my husband. They ask questions such as what did you eat yesterday, what time did he come home, what is your mother-in-law’s name, etc. Then they call him and compare our answers. […] Two months later they visited us at home […] In the final interview they asked me about my husband’s hometown. These men are so professional that they understand as soon as we enter the room (laughing). They asked me if we had children, my son was two months old. Then there was no further question (Maya, 36 years old).

Different forms of male violence in cross-border marriages

During the obligatory marriage period of three years, women enter into the strict surveillance of their husbands and relatives. The husbands’ strict control is explained as jealousy by respondents. Although jealousy is usually tolerated in the name of “love,” women’s stories show that the husbands restrict women’s employment, their socializing, clothing and even freedom of movement. For example, Aliya (38 years old, engineer, Turkish citizen), says that her husband’s excessive jealousy pushed her to quit to her job. Despite most of the respondents’ husbands being low-waged blue-collar workers such as carpenters, industrial workers, drivers or petty traders, women usually had to quit working when they get married and have children. In fact, having children is one of the ways women are kept at home, away from waged work and socialization with colleagues. On the other hand, women may choose to stay at home to prove that their marriage is genuine. Indeed, most respondents emphasized the importance of having a child before going to the citizenship interview as mentioned above. For example, Aybike (37 years old) says “after having a kid, those people who think that I got married for the citizenship kept quiet, everyone understood that our marriage was not fake.” Except for older women, all respondents had at least one child with their local husbands.

All respondents had to take care of their children on their own after giving birth, and usually without much help from their husbands. Eliza (37 years old, owner of an employment agency, Turkish citizen) says, it was “as if the kids were from someone else.” Although the gendered division of labor in the household rests highly on women in Türkiye, this inequality is much more visible in cross-border marriages. Most women justified this inequality by saying that their husbands were “very busy” with their work or they “could not trust anyone” so they assumed responsibility for childcare. In so doing, women demonstrate that they are “good housewives” who are “moral” and good at housekeeping, and their marriage is real. Kyrgyz women are pushed to accept traditional gender roles either by restrictions of the state or by their husbands and relatives (Liversage, 2012). However, when the children grow up and/or women succeed in business and/or get their citizenship, they become less dependent on their husbands, and women feel more relaxed and can negotiate better with their husbands.

After getting married, the husbands often restrict migrant women’s socialization and dress choices. Most of the respondents said that they had to tell their husbands when and why they go out. For example, Aruuzat (55 years old, housewife, Turkish citizen), a veteran soldier who was living in a small town where she had no friends, had to let her husband know where she was going. Although she rarely goes out, she usually visits her husband’s relatives in the same neighborhood to read the Koran. A former atheist, she had to go out with a headscarf. Aliya (38 years old, engineer, Turkish citizen), mother of four kids, also says that she started covering her head willingly when she came to Istanbul for her second marriage:

I asked my husband to find a Koran course. It was forbidden to go to such courses or to cover my head in Uzbekistan. I was Muslim before, but I started covering my head when I came here. In the beginning I was not used to do it, it still feels awkward. But it protects my head from sunlight (laughing).

Having a religious marriage (imam nikahı) also works to convert women to Islam which requires women to repent on their previous “immoral lifestyle” and become “honorable” housewives. This image of a “religious” and “good” housewife is in direct opposition to the image attached to most post-Soviet women. Most of the respondents identified themselves as Muslim; two wore headscarves and were practicing Muslims after they got married. Some respondents mentioned that they had religious education from their female relatives after getting married. For example, when Aybike (37 years old) converted to Islam at her religious wedding, she followed Islamic rules, memorized some of the prayers and tried to perform them every day. “My sister-in-law helped me. I was committed to perform prayer in the beginning but then I quit when my husband quit” she explains as she was laughing. One exception is Batma (55 years old, small-scale trader, permanent resident). She was empowered to reject the pressures exerted by her second husband’s religious family:

I told them that if you push me, I won’t marry. I am coming from another culture, Soviet-Russian culture, I cannot do that. But if I really want it from inside my heart I will. You cannot convert me forcibly. If you do that, I will go my own way, I said. Then they said ok. They criticize me, my behavior and clothes, but I think I was able to cope with it.

Women accept doing all the household chores, bearing and rearing children, and the restrictions set by their husbands. But when their husbands cheat, women do not take this without saying or doing anything. Almost all respondents either implied or openly said that their husband was meeting other women. When the women confront their husbands about the cheating, the men respond by threatening the women with deportation and keeping the children.

The fight in the house usually happens because of cheating. […] Frequently he was sending me to take care for his parents and he was meeting other women in Antalya. He even told one of them that I was his caretaker. When I said I’ll take my kids and go, he refused to give me the kids. I searched for the information in detail [about getting a divorce] then, my kids were only one and two years old. (Eliza, 37 years old)

Limited access to support

It is possible to get free legal help from the City Lawyers’ Associations and pursue a divorce in case of gender-based violence, with or without citizenship. Lawyers from the Antalya city bar said that they receive a number of applications from migrant spouses each month. Usually Russian, Uzbek or Kyrgyz women seek legal aid to file a divorce.

They fill a form when they come and there is a question in this form: Have you been through any domestic violence? If she says yes, then we give another form and ask questions in detail […] I had a case of a Kyrgyz woman who was married to a disabled man and she experienced violence, both physical and psychological. Women usually complain about psychological violence. If there is domestic violence, we guide women to take a decision of seeking protection from the court. […] Most of the cases are for divorce and one-third of them involves violence. (Lawyer, Antalya)

Similarly, none of the respondents in official marriages said they looked for legal aid for a divorce in the obligatory period of three years even when the husbands’ strict control and violence become unbearable. Only two respondents who were not in official marriages (as second wives), Leyla (33 years old, petty trader, non-Turkish citizen) and Melek (35 years old, real estate agency worker, non-Turkish citizen) said that they went to the police to get help when they experienced physical violence from their partners. Leyla said that she tried to get her baby back from her ex-partner. This is a common problem for many migrant women which needs further exploration. On the other hand, Melek said that when she went to the police station she was ignored by the police as she was not officially married. “They did not even let me stay in the police station for half an hour,” she said. Although it is not necessary to be married to seek help against gendered violence, the stigmatization against migrant women and the ignorance of the police can be considered important barriers. Our interviews show that most migrant women kept silent for fear of losing their resident permits or their children, or because of death threats from their husbands. Thus, the silence of migrant women is linked to state restrictions which lay the ground for systematic male violence either from husbands or from state officials.

Instead of approaching Turkish government institutions, women usually seek help from their husbands’ parents, their social networks or from the Kyrgyz Consulate.

He was always pushing me in 2015, I was not a citizen yet. I said damn this citizenship, it is not important than myself. My life does not depend on Türkiye, I just stay here because of my children. […] I was telling everything to my father-in-law and mother-in-law, they supported me. (Eliza, 37 years old)