Bulgarian | Türkish
Although I was baptised, brought up as a Catholic and studied at a Catholic comprehensive school, I am no longer a practising Christian. I'm British born to Bulgarian / Türkish parents however my looks are often open to commentary whatever my association. As an artist, the musical world bridges the gap between my struggling with the feeling of ‘home’ and sense of belonging.
My Mother is native Bulgarian and practises the Bulgarian Orthodox faith. Although she travelled and lived in several continents, many years before I was born she settled in the UK. My ‘biological Father’ is Türkish and practises the Alevi religion. I have no contact with my ‘biological Father’ and was brought up by my Mum and my Welsh / Spanish Catholic Dad. They split during my early school years and my Mums' Scottish (then) partner had a unique friendship with my Dad. When I think about it, these circumstances were weird but I love all three equally in their wonderful and remarkable ways. Sadly my Dad passed when I was 12 but I still have a close connection with the lovely Scotsman who is like another Dad to me.
On a side note, my ‘biological Dad’ is a relatively recent revelation (a lockdown discovery) and so are some of my distant Romani roots on my Mum’s side. Although brought up in the UK, it was with a strong Bulgarian identity and cultural influence, splashed also with some Scottish, Spanish and Latino culture (my half sisters' Dad is Venezuelan and distant Algerian). My extended Bulgarian family are spread throughout several continents and countries.
I was brought up with the idea that my background should always be kept hidden, whether it be from not disclosing where my parents are from or (for example) being encouraged from a young age to lighten my skin in a bid to ‘fit in’ with the Western idea of beauty. As an adult I have come to understand that differences can be celebrated and the importance of being happy in your own skin.
Both Bulgaria & Türkiye are a melting pot full of cultural and economic exchanges between Europe and Asia and so it is a background I am proud of, despite the insecurities that both my biological parents have with their origins.
There is a lot of stigma surrounding Bulgarians in the UK and in the older of the Bulgarian generations, their conflicting attitude towards the Türkish. If I explain to someone Bulgarian that I am half-Türkish, often I am unfavourably judged as being the minority Türkish in Bulgaria and vice versa. For a long time, it was easier to say I am British born and bred and leave it there! Throwing into the mix the complexity around my 'biological origins' with the way I was brought up and who I identify with as my Dad would almost take a whole novel to explain! Even if not deliberate, my identity for most of my life has remained hidden and then add to that the context of my 'biological Father' keeping my existence hidden from his family... Let's just say it is a complicated affair!
With time I have come to learn and appreciate the resilience of my Bulgarian relatives and even though I hesitate to admit this, also my Mum. For those who decide to stay they are all functioning depressives as a result of years of political upheaval and distrust in the authorities. Those who decide to leave (everyone in Mum’s generation left and the majority in Gran’s generation) do so with the scars of leaving the motherland. Bulgaria is a beautiful country rich in culture, full of incredible music, delicious food, stunning mountains, memorising coastline and warm hearted people. Nonetheless, if you leave for the west you have the fear of being ostracised (Mum has sometimes been referred to as ‘vulgar bulgar’) and made to work in bad conditions and if you stay, you do so living a life of disassociation in order ignore the faulty and corrupt system. Although the conditions are slowly improving, it is happening at a dysfunctional speed for those there that live normal working lives there. However, throw a load of people into the fire and Bulgarians will be one of the last ones standing (in actuality there is an ancient Thracian ritual still practised in Bulgaria called Nestinarstvo where you literally walk on fire!).
From the perspective of the opera world, it is a predominantly Western European tradition. Many of the opera storylines are centred around cultures that have been marginalised. Take for example one of the most famous operas: Carmen, centred around a Romani heroine (referred to as ‘gypsy’) who is murderously pursued by the infatuation of Don José (a Mother’s boy who won't take no for an answer). Instead of looking into Romani culture and using that as a reference point to deepen the understanding of the opera, Carmen is often displayed as one-dimensional. This is partly due to the limitations of the composition by Bizet and librettists H. Meilhac and L. Halvey. Fortunately opera is an art form which can be open to interpretation. Carmen is one of many operas (Aida and Madame Butterfly spring to mind) whose history at completion are as important as the compositions themselves. However, can we keep on reproducing these genius compositions at the expense of not acknowledging the impact they make on the cultures in question? Similarly, eradicating that part of history (stretching from the Baroque period until now) removes the opportunity to use the magic of music to build the bridge of mutual understanding and harmony with the hindsight of the past. If we were to go down this route, then we will surely lose the moral of the story and there is a reason why myths, legends, fairy stories and folk tales stay around. Ultimately I fell into this career path because opera, like Shakespeare, moves me in ways never felt possible. The music and their storylines dive into the core of my soul and unravels dormant emotions. It would be sad to let this beautiful art form die but it is also clear to me that change needs to continue and so does supporting incredible organisations who do a great job at tackling its complexities.
Bulgaria is as much a home to me as the UK, but on the other hand, the two times I have visited Türkiye have been strange. The degree of complexity surrounding the gap between being ethnically (Türkiye or however you like to call it) connected to a place and yet so distant are far greater in Turkey than anywhere else I have lived and visited.
The person who I identify with is my step Dad, however, is British born to Welsh / Spanish parents. They met on a night out and the rest, they say, is history, Dad fell head over heels for Mum and this was mutual. They are two people who faced different types of conflicts in their lives and so their marriage was built on deep understanding. Dad had a beautiful voice and was always singing around the house whilst preparing the feast of the year. He had a love for animals like no-one I have seen and similarly for drinking. If you were fortunate to attend the pub with Dad there, you would most likely be bought several rounds of drinks. Dad was a war veteran and although I was too young to understand the impact it had on him, upon reflection I can see why he may have turned to drinking and the comfort he sought from the love for animals.
When I lost my Dad, my Mums relationship with her then partner (the Scotsman) broke up and so in the same Summer as I was transitioning into high school, I lost two people in my life who meant a lot to me. Mums' life motto is always about investing in the present for the future and to remember those who passed when they were alive and healthy (and essentially not go to the funeral). I was encouraged to keep busy with lessons in singing, dancing, acting and piano everyday after school. During the weekdays I would often return home around 10pm and during the weekends I would travel to Trinity College of Music (usually a 5 hours round trip if there were no engineering works) and additional classes on Sundays to prepare for my extra-curricular exams. Mum worked in the film industry and took up more work in order to help fund my activities. Immersing myself in performing was a way to deal with the pain I was going through but it also meant that I did not fully process the loss. That grief was my shadow throughout my 20s and I dealt with it in a bad way. It is only now that I can say that I have started processing these hard feelings.
Having been brought up in the UK with a connection predominately only with my Mum's Bulgarian side of the family, one could say it was a mix of British and Bulgarian culture. My immediate Bulgarian family do not speak English and with my Mum wanting me to fully integrate in the UK she was afraid of speaking Bulgarian to me. However I was a curious, talkative and determined kiddo who loved my Baba and learnt the language from my deep connection with her, my Bulgarian cousins and friends.
Every Summer we would spend three months at a go and usually upon arrival we would head straight to Grannie’s flat which was above a Banicharka (a traditional Bulgarian pastry shop). I would be lulled to sleep by the trams passing nearby and in the morning woken up by the delicious wafts of fresh pastry in the air. Traditionally you eat it with a wheat drink called Buza but often I went with the option of pairing it with Kiselo Mljako specifically ‘Na Baba’ (soured yoghurt, similar to Kefir but thicker and creamier). Often I would beg Granny to make my favourite Bulgarian dish, stuffed peppers, or we would roast peppers on the iron plates and eat them with ripe Bulgarian rose tomatoes and sirene (similar to what more widely known Greek feta). For dessert, I would drink Grannie’s delicious homemade plum compote or compete with Grandma on ‘who could eat the most watermelon in one sitting'. Similarly I have fond memories eating kasha (literally dried out bread and sugar mixed with warm milk) and katchamak (cornmeal with melted butter and serene over the top). Easter time we would paint eggs together to knock them against each other like conkers. Whose egg remained untarnished would keep it in the refrigerator all year round as a symbol of good luck until next Easter comes around. Grandma was often the lucky one! Other fond memories are of Mum making me marzaliva banitsa (literally lazy banitsa), mish mash, macaroni with sirene and the most incredible meatballs.
During Christmas and Easter I try to incorporate both Bulgarian and English traditions. Last year I attended the London Bulgarian Choir Christmas spectacular and at Easter-time painted eggs. At least once or twice a year I try to return to Bulgaria to visit my relatives and family friends, hike through the beautiful mountains (fun fact, Bulgaria is 70% mountainous) and indulge in eating delicious Bulgarian food. Although Granny is no longer around, I try to retain my Bulgarian language by reading articles, learning Bulgarian songs and by speaking to my extended family in the mother tongue.
Prior to the pandemic I had hit a dead end with my work in the theatre industry. It is a tough career path and the statistics of ‘success’ especially for women in my specialism (opera) do not lend themselves favourably for future prospects. Being brought up in a humble socially economic background, I simply did not have the financial means to sustain this career without full-time employment. After hitting this dead wall, I decided to apply to UK based nursing and medicine grad schools. Meanwhile, I worked as a vaccinator for one of the major London hospitals and taught music and English privately online. Although I had been accepted to study at Kings College London in the 2021 academic year, on a whim I decided to apply to the English National Opera fellowship programme for singers from a ‘diverse background’. Low and behold I was offered a place and I have been working with them since! Being part of ENO is the home I have always longed for and it breaks my heart to see its foundations being shattered (see online about Arts Council England withdrawing their funding).
The employers which fill varying levels of positions within the company I work for come from all walks of life. Working in this environment has given me hope and the encouragement to be myself and rejoice in others for being who they are.