When I began my journey in the struggle, I was a young person in search of meaning, burdened with a deep sense of responsibility. My first commander was Comrade Mizgîn. At the time, she was the commander of the Mardin (Mêrdîn) Province and used the nom de guerre Şîlan. She had just arrived from the area where Abdullah Öcalan was. Her knowledge, discipline, and strong presence left a deep impression on us, the young fighters. Meeting her marked a turning point for me, a time of awakening, growth, and consciousness.

The day I left home, my mother said to me: "I’m not telling you to go, but if you do, never come back to this house."

I couldn’t grasp the meaning of her words for a long time. I thought about them for months, asked many comrades, but no one could give me an answer, until one day, Comrade Mizgîn turned to me and asked, "Do you know what your mother meant?"

I didn’t know. But she, in a calm yet resolute voice, said: "Your mother was telling you, ‘If you choose this path, do not betray it. Be honorable.’" Those words left a mark on my heart. From that day on, my commitment to the struggle was no longer just ideological, it became a matter of conscience and deep emotional responsibility.

Comrade Mizgîn was not just a commander to me. She was also a friend, a teacher, and a mother. She taught with discipline and nurtured with compassion. If I am still standing today, it is thanks to thousands like Mizgîn, Gulçiya, Egîd, and Mazlum. They did not only teach us how to struggle; they passed down the legacy of a dignified life.

***

History records not only victories, but also songs. Sometimes, the pain of peoples echoes through the lines of a poet; at other times, hope takes shape in the voice of a singer. Hozan Mizgîn was such a voice. She was not only an artist, but also the voice, the heart, and the pioneer of resistance, of a people.

On May 11, 1992, another star fell to the earth on one of the harshest paths of the freedom struggle. Hozan Mizgîn became immortal in the memory of her people not only through the songs she sang, but through the struggle she waged. Her voice echoed across all borders, in the prisons, in the mountains, in the squares.

Her songs carried not only sorrow but also hope. They carried defiance, resilience. She did not sing into a microphone from afar; she sang from the heart of resistance, shaped by a consciousness forged in the suffering of her people. Every melody was a call: a call to rise against oppression, a call to resist submission.

She was also a woman. A Kurdish woman. In an era where voices were silenced and identities erased, she chose to walk the path of a woman, an artist, a freedom fighter, and a commander, fully aware of the cost. But that cost became an eternal love etched into the hearts of her people.

Today, on the anniversary of her martyrdom, we remember her once again. Her voice is still with us, and her name is still spoken alongside the struggle. And like her, countless comrades continue to walk forward today with the same conviction, for a free tomorrow.

Her voice was like a waterfall; her heart, like a mountain... And we, who have not forgotten her songs, will continue to struggle so that this voice is never silenced.

I remember Hozan Mizgîn and all the martyrs of freedom with respect, love, and longing.