Sunday, June 28, 2026

Vuslat Karan and Burcu Melekoğlu | Mavi kimlik (Blue ID) / 2022

yes, i’m blue

by Douglas Messerli

 

Vuslat Karan and Burcu Melekoğlu (directors) Mavi kimlik (Blue ID) / 2022

 

It is one thing be a famous cis-gender actor in Nigeria such as Bisi Alimi who comes out on the air—putting him in a such a life-threatening position that he was forced to escape the country—but it is quite another, as this wonderful documentary reveals, to be a noted, sexually desired female actor in Turkey who has just received her first testosterone shot on October 4, 2012 in order  to become the male he has long felt himself to be.


   Having just made that important first step in gender affirmation, Rüzgar Erkoçlar had already attempted to escape from public life by leaving his acting job and finding employment in a small bakery. But family, friends, and even his doctor will not let him smoothly move into the important transition, one which demands not only enormous physical but psychological changes as well.

  Vuslat Karan’s and Burcu Melekoğlu’s documentary, revealing the intense homophobia and transphobia of Turkey, stays focused on the incredible good-looking young man into who the female star has already disappeared. But the Turkish public, traditionally bound through religion and social tradition, intrude at every possible moment, swarming and photographing Erkoçlar whenever he attempts to leave the house, losing him his employment, and threatening his life. Even his sister and to a certain degree his mother plays into the public curiosity and sense of outrage.


     Erkoçlar is forced, just to protect himself and give him some time to adjust to the situation to become an indoor recluse, going out only in disguise and walking short distances in known neighborhoods.

   Simply trying to adjust to his new life, attempting to assimilate to the new feelings that the testosterone shots create results both in doubts, fears, and a strong sense of his new strength and emotional release; but if that doesn’t make life complex enough, Erkoçlar must go through the process in public as well.


     The symbolic event of his full transformation arrives when he attempts to confirm his new identity by changing his pink identity card for a blue one—the sexist Turkish society defining people’s gender even by the color of their official identification. The court, perversely refuses since he has not gone through the entire operation, meaning he has not had an operation to transform his vagina into a penis-like configuration. The society that disdains transgenderism legally requires the individual to make a decision to completely alter his or her gender in what might be described as a nearly absurd catch-22. Their illogical argument seems to suggest that “Now that you have shamed yourself half way, you must allow yourself to proceed in the full gender change before we will recognize you for who you’ve become.” Presumably males undergoing a gender change must equally have their penises removed before being allowed to call themselves women. Or maybe not: being benighted males by birth, do they have more power to describe themselves as they wish? This documentary doesn’t pursue that issue, which I wish it had. But it’s clear that this society has no conception of gender fluidity except perhaps for Zenne dancers.*


     Erkoçlar finally chooses to undergo the operation. But even then his new life is constantly put in jeopardy by public attention and threats. What is absolutely amazing about all of this is just how the truly handsome male, former actor, has become as he moves little by little through all of the mazes of Turkish society with sanity, grace, and a great deal of levity.

     If you’re a cis-gender individual who still has negative feelings about transgender individuals, you should meet Rüzgar Erkoçlar in this documentary masterpiece. He makes it all so human that you want to cry. Finally, in the illogic of the world in which we live, this lovely man can openly declare “Yes, I’m blue.”

 

*See my discussion of Caner Alper and Mehmet Binay’s 2011 film Zenne Dancer.

 

Los Angeles, November 1, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (November 2023).

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