“Whose Mosque Is It?”: Women’s Roles, Experiences, and Spatial Negotiations in Türkiye

Who “owns” mosques in Türkiye is a multi-layered question that becomes especially pertinent when considering the roles women occupy in these spaces and the diverse experiences they have. On the one hand, it is undeniable that mosque architecture and its governance often reflect male-centered perspectives shaped by traditional and institutional discourses. On the other hand, each woman may have a different approach, mode of participation, or level of desire to attend mosque. For some, the mosque may be a place where they actively engage in worship and socialize, while others may choose to avoid it due to various cultural codes, personal orientations, or lifestyle practices. Consequently, broad statements such as “women are rendered invisible in mosques” do acknowledge that some women indeed seek visibility there, but they also risk overlooking the experiences of those who do not wish to attend or who engage with the space in different ways. For this reason, forming a singular narrative of “deprivation” or “invisibility” without first hearing from women themselves regarding their perceptions, practices, and forms of subjectivity can lead to a limited perspective. Moreover, assessments that fail to consider Türkiye’s social and political context risk ignoring the historical exclusion and marginalization particularly affecting headscarved women. These experiences have shaped how headscarved women relate to public space and can also influence their attitudes and practices concerning mosques. Thus, to understand the multifaceted and sometimes contradictory ways in which women relate to mosque space, a comprehensive analysis that accounts for both institutional structures and women’s subjective experiences and perceptions is needed. One prominent initiative that has revived this debate in Türkiye is KADEM’s (Women and Democracy Association) “Camiler Hepimizin” (“Mosques Belong to All of Us”) project, which aims to evaluate women’s access to mosques using spatial criteria (physical features, accessibility, social activities, etc.). However, because this evaluation relies on quantitative data, it does not explore in depth the subjective attitudes, emotions, and practices of women regarding mosques. The contrasting examples of the Fatih Hafız Ahmet Paşa Mosque (which received a low score) and the Üsküdar Valide-i Cedid Mosque (which received a high score) in Istanbul offer two striking poles for examining how different spatial arrangements are experienced by women. Yet relying on these scores alone—saying “one mosque is more egalitarian, the other more restrictive”—is insufficient, since the physical regulations envisioned for a particular space do not always match the ways in which women actually use these places in everyday life. Some women, for various reasons, may opt not to frequent the most comfortable or well-designed mosque; others may choose to develop tactical strategies for visibility even in relatively “restrictive” environments. Here, Michel de Certeau’s perspective on “everyday practices” is helpful in underscoring how users—in this case, women—may expand their space or loosen cultural codes through “tactical” methods despite the “strategic” arrangements of the mosque. Elements like the location of the women’s section, the layout of ablution areas, or the range of social activities represent only part of the formal dimension. Each woman’s personal life practices and religious worldview can add distinctive nuances to how that space is used. Edward Soja’s concept of “Thirdspace,” meanwhile, points to the “lived” space that women experience and transform, beyond simply the physical or symbolic dimensions. Mosques are not only shaped by their architecture or management; they also gain new layers of meaning through women’s mental maps, social relations, and embodied practices. Doreen Massey’s argument about the gendered nature of space, particularly her notion of “power-geometry,” underscores how access to and use of mosques vary depending on factors like class, gender, or even geography, thus highlighting the diversity of women’s engagements. Hence, my planned research will go beyond the quantitative findings of the “Camiler Hepimizin” project, using in-depth interviews and participant observation to document the motivations, emotions, and practices (including forms of resistance or tactical behavior, if any) of women who attend—or choose not to attend—Fatih Mosque and Valide Cedid Mosque, two sites with distinct profiles. In doing so, I hope to move past reductionist stances such as “all women seek visibility in mosques” or “all women are excluded from them.” The project will investigate not only how religious space is experienced but also why it sometimes is not experienced at all, or how women might replace it with alternative spaces—thereby shedding new light on women’s subjectivities. This study dovetails with many of the concerns of the Space, Place, and Religion Unit of the American Academy of Religion, particularly in its focus on the interplay between religion and space. First, it addresses the question of spatial justice through a gender perspective, asking how places of worship may be liberating or restrictive in line with the conference’s theme of “freedom.” Moreover, exploring whether (and where) “counter-hegemonic” spatial practices take shape helps clarify how religious spaces are not merely given but are actively reinvented within the fabric of everyday life. By adopting a critical lens, I aim to show that “freedom of worship” is not simply a legal right but also a process enacted through the physical and cultural layers of space. Ultimately, rather than assuming a uniform mold for how all women use mosques, this study centers on a variety of experiences and narratives that shed light on the mosque as a dynamic social arena. Some women actively claim the mosque for themselves, others critique it or keep their distance, and still others carve out tactical spaces within it—patterns that collectively reveal how places of worship undergo negotiation in terms of gender. Accordingly, investigating how “belonging” in mosques is constructed not only through physical design but also through the internal worlds, social relations, and everyday practices of women offers a new vantage point for understanding these sites. From this perspective, we can revisit the questions of who is afforded “liberatory” possibilities in the mosque and who remains unseen, thus reflecting anew on concepts of “freedom” and “spatial justice” within a more concrete, pluralistic framework.