Good People of vitruta: Yasemin Bahloul Nirun

Great to have you here, Yasemin! Let’s kick things off with our usual opener: How would you describe yourself to someone who doesn’t know you? Who is Yasemin? Where did it all start, what have you done, and where are you now?

Hi! I started working as a news reporter quite young, in my early twenties. At Kanal D’s primetime news desk, I covered everything from economics to culture—and most prominently, international affairs. After five years of being out on the field, I had a brief corporate stint, and eventually decided to leave it all behind to focus on my creative work. Since then, I’ve been freelancing in media or stepping into the producer’s seat myself.

I gave myself a few intense years of training in music, writing, and acting—years that helped me discover new sides of myself. Today, my current rhythm revolves around Kendine Ait Bir Oda, a podcast I’ve been doing for the past four years. It brings me together with women+ across disciplines and also informs the workshops and events I create.

Alongside that, I’m doing academic research in media sociology. Outside of the media space, I write, compose, and perform my own music. I’ve done live shows and musicals before, but putting my own songs into the world is something I’m only now learning to be brave about. I currently have three songs on Spotify, with two more coming by the end of this summer.

In short, I’m someone who tries to create in ways that align with my values. I truly believe that the barriers standing in the way of women’s creative expression are social, not personal—and that’s something I care deeply about. I’ve been living in London for the past three years with my daughter, my partner, our dog, and our cat. :)

You’ve worked across journalism, podcasting, writing, and music. When describing yourself, how do you think about this multi-layered practice—is it something interconnected, conflicting, or intuitive?

Everything I do ultimately comes from me, and runs through me. If all these parts can find a sense of cohesion within me, then I believe they can resonate meaningfully with the outside world too. In the beginning, I used to see this kind of multidirectionality as a weakness. Now, I’m learning how to claim it.

You’ve been living in London for a while now but you’ve stayed connected to Türkiye. How do these two cities speak to different parts of you? What aspects do they nourish in different ways?

For me, London is still a space of freedom I’m actively exploring. Türkiye, on the other hand, taught me the logic of “You can’t do that,” “That won’t work,” “That’s not possible.” That mindset wore me down—but now I feel I can see the bigger picture more clearly. The things we label as “not possible” in Türkiye paint a pretty accurate portrait of our collective psychology. Reading those limitations alongside the possibilities I encounter in London pushes me to ask: How can we make things possible in Türkiye? Especially in the cultural field, producing work around that question excites me more than anything.

We know you’re also into astrology. How does it show up in your life? Does it influence your daily rhythm or creative process?

Astrology, for me, is a language of life. What’s most widely known and criticized is the commodified “12 signs” model you see in newspapers or all over social media—mainly because it sells better. But real astrology is far from that. For me, nothing is absolute. I don’t live according to astrology, but I keep it in my toolbox as one of the languages I use to make sense of life.

Let’s talk about theatre! From your Annie Ernaux adaptations to the seasonal productions—how do you keep up with everything on such a full schedule?

One of the core practices in The Artist’s Way is called the Artist Date. It’s a weekly ritual where you spend 1–2 hours doing something purely for yourself. That’s become a habit for me over the years. Every week, I take myself to the cinema or the theatre. When I don’t, I feel off—like I’ve lost touch with myself a little.

Theatre is the language in which I feel most understood—and through which I best express myself. Playwriting, in particular, is the muscle I most enjoy working on. That’s why I also try to be a thoughtful and committed audience member. But of course, that’s a lifelong dream—the road is long.

Okay, I have to ask: What are you following or excited to see on the London stage this season? Can you share a quick watchlist?

Of course! Here are the first few that come to mind:
1. This Bitter Earth (Soho Theatre) – directed by Billy Porter; runs through the end of July.
2. Every Brilliant Thing (Soho Place) – I’m especially curious about Ambika Mod’s performance (August–September).
3. The Importance of Being Earnest at the National Theatre (September).
4. Girl from the North Country – a musical inspired by Bob Dylan (until the end of August).
5. Giant – at the Harold Pinter Theatre (until early August).

In Kendine Ait Bir Oda, how do you choose your guests? What guides your curatorial approach?

I invite people who, in one way or another, have found the courage to step outside the traps of the patriarchal system. I believe that any creative process—any effort to fully realize oneself—inevitably involves confronting societal norms. That’s what I center the show around.

As a storyteller, which figure in media or literature has impacted you the most? Is there a particular narrative or character that left a lasting impression?

When I first read Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own, it sparked such a deep awareness in me that the book basically chose both the title and the format of the podcast. It described me better than I could describe myself—and, more importantly, helped me realize that what I was feeling wasn’t mine alone.

A Room of One’s Own is short, but incredibly powerful. I think anyone who wants to create should read and confront it. And Woolf’s world—especially the fearlessness of Orlando—continues to touch me in every way. A large part of my own courage comes from there.

Over time, which medium have you come to feel most comfortable in—writing, voice, or performance? Or have those lines blurred by now?

I’ve always felt comfortable expressing myself. The medium might change, but that part of me—this internal source—has always stayed steady. It’s like flipping a switch: the moment I sit down to create, something inside just activates.

I’m comfortable in all of them, but playwriting and screenwriting are the two forms that challenge me most—and that’s exactly why I’m most drawn to them. I suspect they’ll keep challenging me for a long time.

In moments of creative block, how do you make space for yourself again? Do you have a ritual that helps you return to yourself?

I write morning pages. I pick up my guitar and sing. I move into action.

Since you started working in media, what has surprised you most—either in terms of content or form?

What still surprises me is how much more importance people place on content that looks intellectual over content that actually is. This culture of being seen reading Madonna in a Fur Coat, rather than reading it for its own sake, shows up everywhere in media. And not just in people—it's in the content itself.

And finally… What comes to mind when you think of “vitruta” and “Good People”? It
could be anything—a brand, a neighbourhood, a person, a colour, or an event.

Honestly, I think of “good people.” People whose hearts are big enough to let others be themselves, and whose minds are sharp enough to know where things belong.