My thanks are due to Yael Navaro-Yashin, Banu Karaca and Jeremy Walton for providing invaluable feedback on earlier drafts of this paper. I am also indebted to the anonymous EJTS reviewers for their critical engagement with the subject matter.1 "I am sick of politics [siyaset]!" Hatice 1 exclaimed with a sense of exasperation as we were trying to warm up over tea after the performance she had given together with a number of other women dengbêjs [Kurdish bards] at the occasion of the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women on the 25 November, 2012. The rally had been organized by the Democratic Free Women's Movement [Demokratik Özgür Kadın Hareketi, DÖKH], the PKK-aligned wing of the Kurdish women's movement, and the seemingly never-ending speeches by various women politicians had not only made the cold seep into our bodies but also cut into the dengbêjs' performance time. Angry over having been cut short at a rally yet another time Hatice exclaimed with a mixture of passion and frustration: "I want to do art [sanat], not politics [siyaset]!" She felt that Kurdish culture and arts -paradigmatically embodied, in her view, by dengbêjs like herself -had lost out not only against the upbeat tempo of popular pieces like Aynur Doğan's "Keça Kurdan" that had been pounding out from the large loudspeakers during the rally, but also against the professional politicians of the Kurdish Peace and Democracy Party (BDP) 2 and their speeches. But wasn't being a dengbêj and thereby preserving Kurdish traditions in itself a measure supporting the Kurdish cause, Hatice now asked us. Were they not supporting the aims of the Kurdish women's movement, as women dengbêjs out there on a stage in the freezing cold? Why then were they not given the attention she felt they deserved? Turning to me, Münevver, a great admirer of dengbêjs and their kilams 3 with a passion for Kurdish literature and poetry, felt the