Doing old(er) age in a translocal context: Turkish-born women’s experiences of ageing, care and post-mortem care practices

Abstract

This article elaborates on how Turkish-born women in Sweden do old age in relation to gender and migrancy and aims to understand the fluid process of doing over their life course. It draws upon 20 in-depth and semi-structured interviews with Turkish-born women aged 60–78 and aims to address the tensions between agency and intersecting power positions. Theoretically, the article relies on critical feminist gerontology and doing old age to address the negotiations and performances of the interviewed women. The findings show that there are several ambivalences and dilemmas in how the women do old age in a transnational setting. Intergenerational and gendered old age care comes to fore as a significant negotiation site. The women negotiate identity categories with both imagined others and the social actors in their lives (such as their children) over their life course, which implies the situated and relational aspect of doing old age.

Keywords:

• Doing age
• translocal ageing
• Turkish-born women

Introduction

This article focuses on the ageing experiences of Turkish-born women in Sweden and aims to understand how they think about, perform, and negotiate old in relation to gender and migrancy over the course of their lives. More specifically, it aims to explore how Turkish-born women “do” old age and ageing in relation to intersecting social positions along the power axes. The empirical material is based on qualitative in-depth interviews with 20 Turkish-born women in Sweden aged between 60 and 78 years. Although the interviewees have different ethnic backgrounds, migrancy is chosen as a social position to focus on in order to pinpoint the commonality of experiences in terms of being regarded as “different” from the native population (Machat-From, 2017; Torres, 2015).

Research on ageing migrants follows two main streams of argument: ageing in place and ageing in-between. Studies of ageing in place show that only a minority of migrants return to their countries of origin as they get older and therefore mostly age in place (in the country of settlement) (Baykara-Krumme, 2013; Buffel, 2017; Warnes & Williams, 2006). On the other hand, some research emphasises the transnational ties of older migrants, which are characterised in the literature as ageing in-between (Baldassar, 2007; Ciobanu et al., 2017). This article nuances this distinction between ageing in place and ageing in-between and highlights the complexity, situationality and temporality of ageing for people with a migration background. An increasing number of scholars are now calling for “old age” to be taken out of the etcetera in intersecting positions (Freixas et al., 2012) and instead be brought to the fore by developing more critical perspectives in gerontology (Calasanti, 2010; Ferrer et al., 2017; Torres, 2015). This can be done by emphasising the relational and temporal aspects of ageing by staying alert to the situatedness and everyday performances of individuals.

The overall research question is “How do Turkish-born women in Sweden make sense of ageing and care in a migration context?” The article also addresses the following questions: How do Turkish-born women understand and negotiate the identity category of old age over the course of their lives? How do they understand and negotiate intergenerational care relations through a gender lens over the course of their lives? How do they perform old age care and post-mortem care in a migration context?

Theoretically, the article contributes to the ongoing debates about ageing migrant women in critical feminist gerontology and transnational ageing by drawing on intersectionality and “doing” perspectives in gerontological research (Ferrer et al., 2017; Nikander, 2009; Previtali & Spedale, 2021; Syed, 2023). The idea behind this theoretical orientation is to bring agency to the fore by highlighting the performances (or doing), whilst at the same time staying sensitive to how age, gender and migrancy intersect. Empirically, the article sheds light on the situated experiences of Turkish-born women who have often been studied with an essentialist/culturalist lens that reduces them to the stereotype of a passive and oppressed women. Thus, it also contributes to the discussion about translocal ageing by voicing the interviewed women’s narratives about later life.

Care arrangements and expectations demonstrate the narratives around later life ideals. They are relevant to understand the “doing” of old age, in that they are closely associated with everyday practices. In other words, the daily performance of such care practices and the intentions, emotions and ideals behind them have the potential to shed light on the “doing.”

In the following section, previous research on ageing migrant women is presented along with a presentation of the Turkish and Swedish contexts concerning old age and care. A theoretical framework follows this section and expands on theories and key concepts, such as doing old age and (dis)identifications. In the methods section, the empirical material and analysis process are explained. Three main findings are presented in the findings section in relation to the research questions. The article ends with a discussion and conclusions.

Previous research

Ageing migrant women

As Torres (2006) points out, in Sweden older migrants have long been essentialised as “elderly immigrants” who are inherently different from the native population. Being seen as different by the native population often has consequences for a person’s opportunities in life (Machat-From, 2017; Torres, 2015; Wimmer, 2013). Turkish-born migrants have mostly been discussed within the discourse of special needs and difference (El Fakiri et al., 2022; Fokkema & Naderi, 2013; Liversage & Jakobsen, 2016; van der Greft & Droogleever Fortuijn, 2017; van Tilburg & Fokkema, 2021), which has led to an understanding of ethnicity as something culturally static and as a social position that consists of homogenous “others” (Zubair & Norris, 2015). Moreover, both categories of “old age” and “migrant” are associated with vulnerability and exclusion. The same can be said about migrant women, who are often characterised as dependant and passive followers of male migrants and thus deemed as a vulnerable group. However, a growing number of studies show a greater diversity and heterogeneity in the experiences of ageing migrants, with a specific focus on life satisfaction (Baykara-Krumme & Platt, 2018), social ties and embeddedness (Palmberger, 2017), care and emotions (Naldemirci, 2013), belonging and place (Klok et al., 2022).

There is also a growing literature on more nuanced perspectives of migrant women, mainly from feminist researchers showing how migrant women redefine dependence and the cross-cultural meanings of ageing (Afshar et al., 2008), how they seek interdependence and close relations with kin and communities (Zontini, 2015) and how they do family and care through transnational ties (Baldassar, 2007).

Old age care in Sweden and Turkey

Different institutional settings in Sweden and Turkey play key roles in the understanding of the situated experiences of Turkish-born women in Sweden. These institutional settings include care and retirement arrangements and post-mortem arrangements, such as death and funeral practices, in both contexts. Although generally conceptualised as a strong welfare society, old age care in Sweden is institutionalised jointly between the family and the state (Sundström et al., 2006), rather than as a strong state provision in which the state “takes over” what families used to do. A principle of “help to self-help” (Elmersjö, 2020) is prominent in the care arrangements. The aim of help to self-help is to enable the care receivers to do as much as they can by themselves. Today, the sharing of responsibility between the family and the state persists, although many older adults first turn to family before seeking formal care arrangements.

This pattern of joint responsibility can also be found in contemporary Turkey, although to a much greater extent includes the family in any care arrangements. Turkey’s welfare regime can be characterised as a familialist Mediterranean welfare regime (Buğra & Keyder, 2006; Dedeoglu & Elveren, 2011), where the family is seen as the central actor in the provision of care in cooperation with the state and the market. Cash-for-care arrangements are initiated by the state to encourage family members to provide long-term care for older family members (Değirmenci, 2022).

In the light of these contexts, it is clear that the Swedish care system provides more options for its older population. However, several studies across Europe show that older migrants have less access to health and care services than the native population (Forssell & Torres, 2012; Hovde et al., 2008). Songur’s (2021) study of older migrants’ use of old age care in Sweden shows that Nordic migrants have similar levels of access and usage of old age care to Swedes, whereas older migrants from the Middle East and Africa refrain from using special housing due to the greater accessibility of home help and help/care from the family.

Theoretical framework

Critical feminist gerontology

The theoretical orientation of the article is embedded in critical feminist gerontology. Scholars in this field aim to explore how power relations and intersecting social positions over the life course influence women’s ageing experiences (Calasanti, 2008; Freixas et al., 2012; Hess, 2018; Hooyman et al., 2002). They begin with the assumption that women experience ageing differently than men due to their complex involvement in unpaid labour and care, biases in social security and pension schemes, ageism and patriarchal oppressions in relation to women’s bodies and resources (Hooyman et al., 2002).

Important aspects of critical feminist gerontology are the emphasis on women’s agential capacities over their life course, such as negotiation, strength, resistance and ability (Hooyman et al., 2002; Wray, 2003), and that it takes the inaccuracies and silences about ageing women (Gibson, 1996) into account. Thus, it functions as a critical lens on simplified typologies of older women portraying them as “deviant others” (McMullin, 2000) who are dependant, oppressed and passive throughout the course of their lives.

Doing old age: imagined others, identification and disidentification

The “doing” of old age in gerontological studies is significantly under-theorised compared to other social positions, such as gender and ethnicity, which also rely on West and Fenstermaker (1995) seminal work on doing difference and West and Zimmerman (1987) work on doing gender. The “doing age” framework suggests that old age is a social construct, rather than a given one (Previtali & Spedale, 2021). Thus “it is not regarded as the innate property of individuals of a certain chronological age, but rather situationally accomplished in the interplay between internal and external definitions” (Machat-From, 2017, p. 7). In this sense, old age does not have a singular or permanent meaning and “does not have the coherence and stability we tend to assume” (Coupland, 2009, pp. 852–853). The “doing old age” perspective aims to understand in which situations old age becomes meaningful and thereby focuses on the situationality of age-related experiences (Nikander, 2009).

The doing part of old age relies on the everyday performances of old age as well as relational and temporal conceptualisations of later life. Individuals negotiate, challenge or adhere to old age norms by displaying certain performances. An important part of these performances is the boundary work in which individuals identify or disidentify with specific categories, such as “old women.” In other words, identification and disidentification refer to the negotiation of boundaries and power positions regarding age, gender or ethnicity (Machat-From, 2017; Medina, 2003; Wimmer, 2013). These identifications and disidentifications are temporal and fluctuate over an individual’s life course. For instance, Machat-From (2017) study of older migrants in Sweden shows that individuals sometimes feel “old” and thereby temporally identify with the category of old age. But this negotiation takes a different shape when the participants disidentify with the category by distancing themselves from those who supposedly really are old. In this case, the disidentification takes places as an active distinction between themselves and the virtual others¹ (Machat-From, 2017).

By doing old age, individuals create boundaries between identity categorisations. They negotiate by distancing or identifying with the imagined others, which is a category constructed in interaction. The imagined others are based on a stereotypical imagination of social categories of old age, gender or ethnicity, and vary depending on the context. They are abstractions of what individuals imagine as the general society’s view. Thus, the imagined others in this context are those who “really” are old, or who “really” are migrants (Machat-From, 2017). Individuals negotiate with these imagined others when they position themselves within the broader social context.

It is important to understand why and how individuals identify or disidentify with the imagined others, because understanding how others are imagined, and why this is so, has the potential to reveal the power dynamics in different social positions. Seeing these social positions and (dis)identifications from a situational and temporal perspective by incorporating an active “doing” lens can be useful for understanding both the limitations and potentials of agential and structural conditions.

Materials and methods

The article is based on qualitative interviews with 20 Turkish-born women aged between 60 and 78 years who mainly migrated to Sweden in the 1970s and 1980s and aged in place. The interviewees have different ethnic backgrounds (Turks, Kurds, Arabs, Assyrians), even though they were all born in Turkey.² Four of the 20 interviewees were displaced migrants, two were asylum seekers due to ethnic/religious oppression and another two were political migrants. All the other interviewees moved to Sweden under the family reunification laws, following their spouses or parents.

Most of them migrated in their late 20s and early 30s and at the time of the interviews had lived in Sweden for an average of 40 years. All the participants but one had children. Ten were either married or cohabiting with their partners, while the other ten were single. Six participants were divorced, and four had lost their spouses. Two of the interviewees had a university diploma, while two had no formal education prior to migration. The rest had a middle school or high school diploma when they moved to Sweden. However, 11 of them continued their education after migration and either went to vocational schools (at high school level) or universities. This enabled them to switch to higher income jobs, such as nurses or office workers. Thus, several of them experienced an upwards social mobility after migration.

Ten of the 20 interviewees were between the ages 60–65, seven were between 66 and 70, and three were over the age of 70. At the time of the interviews all but three were retired. Even though the retirement age in Sweden is 65, three out of ten women over the age of 65 were still engaged in paid work. This was due to early retirement. Most of the interviewees suffered from chronic diseases, such as high blood pressure and diabetes, and one had a life-threatening illness. Some of the women who had worked in factories were affected by the heavy workload and conditions and had suffered various injuries throughout their working lives. However, most of them stated that they were able to continue their everyday lives without any major problems.

The recruitment was done via Turkish cultural and religious organisations and several Turkish diasporan Facebook groups, in addition to a snowballing method. The interview process (2020–2021) coincided with the COVID-19 outbreak, which made accessing an older population difficult. The original plan of face-to-face interviews was revised to include telephone and video interviews, since some of the interviewees formed a risk group. This of course posed another limitation to the study, namely that older populations often have less access to internet and communication technologies, which is commonly referred as the digital divide (McDonough, 2016). The study was granted ethical approval by the Swedish Ethical Review Authority prior to the data collection. Written or verbal consent was obtained from all the interviewees depending on the interview format. All the names in the article are pseudonymised and some personal information has been excluded to ensure the interviewees’ anonymity.

All the interviews were conducted by the author in Turkish and were transcribed verbatim first and then translated into English. The interviews were semi-structured in-depth interviews and lasted approximately two hours. An interview guide was used with open-ended questions covering specific themes, such as family, care, work, health, later life and everyday life. Each theme consisted of several questions and possible follow-ups. For instance, regarding work, the women were asked “Can you tell me about your work experience?” which was later followed by more specific questions, such as “Have you ever worked in Sweden?,” “Did you work before moving to Sweden?,” “What kind of jobs did you have?,” “For how long?” and “Did your family (or spouse) support your decision to work/not work?” In general, the main questions and follow-ups were used to open up a space for the women to narrate their experiences around these themes. The interviews were inspired by life course and narrative interviews and thus combined characteristics from both. As Kaźmierska (2004) puts it, “the purpose of the narrative interview is to elicit a story of self-lived experiences that is not a sum of responses to questions but extempore narrative, not interrupted by the researcher’s interjections” (Kaźmierska, 2004, p. 155). On the other hand, life course interviews provide a useful guideline in gerontological research, in that they allow individuals to look back and reflect on their lives following specific turning points, such as first paid work, birth of first child or retirement (Elder & Giele, 2009).

A thematic analysis was applied to the transcribed material to identify any emerging themes in an inductive manner (Castleberry & Nolen, 2018; Patton, 1990). All the transcriptions were reviewed and coded in line with Braun and Clarke (2006) outline of thematic analysis. The material was subjected to rigorous reading while searching for a “golden thread.” The thematic analysis was not used to describe the entire data set in its full richness but was rather utilised to give a detailed and nuanced account of one particular aspect, in relation to the article’s overall research question. Thus, the analysis focused on the narratives that followed the specific themes in the interview guide. Themes such as care, health, living arrangements and ideal scenarios for later life were part of the interview guide, whereas death and funerals emerged when talking about the women’s ideal scenarios. Three main themes emerged as the result of the analysis, all of which are presented in the findings.

Lastly, it is important to point to issues of reflexivity and positionality. Reflexivity is key in qualitative research because the power dynamics affect the material that is co-produced. Steier describes reflexivity as a way of “bending back on itself” (Steier, 1991, p. 2). In this context, as the author and interviewer I share some characteristics with the interviewees, such as place of birth, mother tongue (although some of the interviewees were bilingual and spoke Arabic, Kurdish or Suryoyo in addition to Turkish), country of settlement and gender, which potentially makes me an insider. I also differentiate from them in terms of age, socio-economic class and, in many cases, ethnic/religious background, which potentially makes me an outsider. Although it is impossible to say that I was aware of all the possible power dynamics, I did my best to stay sensitive and alert to them during the interviews. However, I acknowledge that my interpretations of the accounts of interviewees are inevitably influenced by the conceptions and knowledge that I constructed both prior to and during this research.

Findings

The fluid process of doing old age was manifested in three main aspects: (1) the assumed differences between Turkish and Swedish contexts strongly influenced how the women saw old age and whether they identified or disidentified with being “old,” (2) intergenerational care obligations were challenged and negotiated mainly with children, while partners were not in the picture, which made the gendered aspect of ageing more visible, and (3) post-mortem care obligations such as death and funeral rituals became a new site of care for the interviewees as they became older.

(Dis)identification with old age

Two different ageing ideals came to the fore when the women talked about Turkish and Swedish experiences of ageing. The interviewees made a distinction between themselves and “Swedes” (referring to the native population), which in this context were the imagined others. The Swedish way of ageing was coloured by independent and active ageing paradigms, where the individual is responsible for their own health and wealth in later life. This paradigm was manifested in how the interviewees saw older “Swedes.” According to them, Swedes were physically active, youthful, healthy and independent adults, although in a way too independent in that they were also very lonely. In this sense, they contrasted the Swedish way of ageing with the Turkish one. Their perceptions of the Turkish way of ageing were based on the traditional norms to which they were subjected to when growing up in Turkey. According to these perceptions, older people in Turkey suffered from poor health, were dependant on others and were economically vulnerable, but nevertheless had active social lives because they relied on intergenerational care. These perceptions persisted when they consumed Turkish media (mostly mainstream Turkish TV channels), where the traditional ideal of old age is reproduced and maintained. Recent studies on the representation of older adults on Turkish prime-time TV and commercials show that ageist stereotypes persist in the portrayal of older adults (Çelik, 2023; Kaya & Özdemir, 2023). Several women mentioned these stereotypes while narrating the Turkish way of ageing. Therefore, they understood the Turkish way of ageing from a traditional view of intergenerational care, which although imagined in a romantic way, did not really represent the situation in contemporary Turkey (Akkan, 2018; Değirmenci, 2022).

According to the interviewees, Turkish people above a certain chronological age were regarded as “old,” while the same age was not a determinant of oldness for Swedes. For instance, Fazilet, one of the interviewees who saw herself as being closer to an older Swede, said:

There is nothing I can’t do just because I am at this age. In Turkey, people just sit in a corner after they pass 50. I am not like that. (…) I don’t really see older people here (in Sweden) because people in their 90s look like they are in their 50s. But in Turkey, people who are my age can’t even sit up straight. (Fazilet, 60)

Fazilet’s answer illustrates a distinction between herself and the imagined others in Turkey of the same age. She motivated her disidentification with old age in relation to this unhealthy and passive stereotype, while later stating that: “I am more like the older Swedes here” (Fazilet, 60). Fazilet said this when talking about her daily routine during the interview and explaining how much walking and exercising she did each day to stay young and healthy. Thus, she identified more with Swedes. However, not everyone had such positive views of the active and youthful Swede. Several interviewees pointed to another aspect of the older Swede, namely being independent yet lonely. Yeşim talked about this as follows:

I would say that Swedish children are the happiest in the world, and that old Swedish people are the most unhappy. (…) Because they are lonely. Children here have everything they want regardless of class. Every single child has clothes, can play sports, games… But older people…. here in my building, there are a lot of them. Every time they see me, they start talking…why? Because they have no-one else to talk to. (Yeşim, 73)

Yeşim was one of the interviewees who did not identify with older Swedes due to her negative image of a lonely older Swede. As she motivated later, she thought that family ties in Sweden were too loose to keep older people company in old age. Sibel had similar views about Swedes, and when talking about why she thought she was different from older Swedes said:

Oh, they are lonely because they are so carefree, my daughter (addressing the interviewer)³! They don’t trouble themselves with any issues. We think about our children even if they are 18 or 30 years old. We support them. The Swedes don’t do it, they don’t care when they get old, not even a bit! (Sibel, 60)

According to Sibel, older Swedes were lonely because in comparison to older Turkish people they did not care for their children long enough. For her, women who had not carried out their care duties as parents (especially as mothers) for a long period of time were bound to be alone in their old age, simply because they had not provided care for long enough to earn the right to be on the receiving end of it. Even though Sibel expressed these thoughts about intergenerational care, she also stated that she wanted to age independently, without being dependent on anyone, including her children, just like all the other interviewees.

Most of the interviewees stated that they did not consider themselves “old” in general, regardless of the conceptions of Swedish or Turkish ways of ageing, since being “old” meant being unhealthy and dependant. This is consistent with the findings in previous research (Bultena & Powers, 1978; Silva, 2008; Weiss & Lang, 2012). More interestingly, they made a distinction between older people in Turkey and Sweden. All the interviewees had maintained transnational ties between Turkey and Sweden over the years, albeit to differing extents. It is common for Turkish, Arab and Kurdish women to maintain a continuous contact and mobility between two countries, whereas Kurdish and Assyrian women, as well as political refugees, often have limited contact due to their citizenship status and ongoing conflicts.

The findings showed that the negotiation between two different ideals of ageing was an ongoing process. Their ideals consisted of elements of ageing like a “Swede” and ageing the Turkish way. For instance, several women stated that they wanted to age in place, in Sweden, in their own homes. They were reluctant to go into care homes, which is not a common practice in Turkey (Gürer et al., 2019), but stated that they would accept such a move so as not to be a burden to their children, which is in line with previous findings from the Netherlands (Conkova & Lindenberg, 2018).

Serpil was an exceptional case, because she explicitly said that she would rather live with her son even though this was not a realistic option. She was 63 at the time of the interview and was fearful of her later years in Sweden because she thought that it would be exceedingly difficult for her to age by herself:

When I think about 3-5 years from now, it is going to be hard (to live) by myself. Old people in Sweden live in great conditions. They are alone but they have their routines, a good life… we can’t be like them (…) they don’t have expectations. They do not expect anything from their children, it’s not even an issue. But our thoughts (or understandings) are quite different. For instance, I would really want my son (who lives in another country) to come and live here (laughs). Older Swedish people don’t have these kinds of thoughts, so it is just us who have a hard time. (Serpil, 63)

Serpil distanced herself from older Swedes by claiming that they had a good life living alone because they did not have the same expectations from their family as older Turkish people.

The findings did not show significant differences between the Turkish, Kurdish, Arab or Assyrian interviewees in how they understood the Turkish way of ageing (Turkish here referring to citizenship rather than ethnicity). Although there were significant differences between them regarding their transnational ties and the affective dimensions of their identity, their ethnic or religious backgrounds did not emerge as different when it came to ageing, but their migrancy did. This was possibly due to the similarities between cultures in terms of the traditional understandings of gender roles, old age, and intergenerational care.

The interviews revealed a simultaneous and complex identification and disidentification with both ways of ageing. On the one hand, they were informed by traditional understandings of ageing and old age, which they assigned to the Turkish context. On the other hand, they identified with Swedes when talking about being healthy and active and their aspirations to stay independent. This (perceived) contradiction between the two different ways of ageing resulted in a constant negotiation between them, which overall informed the meanings they attached to ageing and old age that signalled the constructed and accomplished aspect of old age.

Challenging and negotiating intergenerational care obligations

Arrangements for intergenerational care were a central part of the interviewees’ narratives about later life. Most of the interviewees diverged from the traditional scripts of gendered care practices when it came to old age care. They saw themselves as the main caregivers in their families and as orchestrators of household work. This was because they viewed unpaid work and division of labour in terms of traditional gender norms which is in line with previous research on gendered care (Lee & Tang, 2015; Revenson et al., 2016; Wood, 1994). However, they did not expect to receive care from their children in later life, as scripted in the traditional intergenerational care obligations that are particularly prevalent in the Turkish context. For several women, receiving care from their children was seen as a burden. This contrasted with the norms of the Turkish context, where receiving care from children, especially daughters, is still prevalent (Öztop et al., 2008; Kirişik, 2019).

When the women reflected on their ideal scenarios of ageing, they all stated that they wanted to age in their own homes for as long as possible. They also wanted to age in Sweden, close to their families, but living independently. Even though half of the interviewees lived with their partners, their partners were absent in the narratives around care and help, which was a sign of a continuation of gendered care practices. This emerged in the interviews when they were asked “Who would you ask for help if you needed something?” In general, all the women were in charge of their own care needs, although children came to the fore several times (for things like driving them to places, making doctor appointments, etc.). In this sense, the women were willing to diverge from the chain of intergenerational care obligations by challenging the traditional generational contract.

When reflecting on their ideal care arrangements with both informal and formal care in mind, most of them refused to receive or even expect extensive care from the younger generations in their families. The burden discourse was common and therefore diverged from the traditional care ideals in later life, where the children (especially daughters) are expected to care for their parents as they aged. Neziha, who had four daughters, talked about this:

I mean I will go (into a care home) anyway. One way or another. Because you can’t burden your children. Everyone has their own lives (…) Even if you have 10 children, you cannot stay with even one of them. (Neziha, 67)

Although Neziha was sceptical about the quality-of-care homes in Sweden, she was prepared to receive formal care if she became unable to look after herself. By doing so, Neziha withheld expectations of care from her daughters. Another interviewee, Kadriye, who had two adult daughters, also talked about how she wanted to age independently by referring to another family member, a “Swede, ”as a role model:

I take my daughter’s mother-in-law as a role model. She lives by herself, she gets home help (hemtjänst), so she pays a bit and they come and help her with things. They even make her coffee and put it in a thermos so she can take it from there all day. She is 96 but lives alone. I want to be like her. (Kadriye, 66)

What was more striking in Kadriye’s ideal care scenario was that she did not want to live at all if she became a burden to her daughters:

I always say that I only want to live as long as I am in good health…but if I am not, then I don’t want to live. If I can’t live by myself without any help…. If I am a burden to my daughters, then I wouldn’t want to live at all. (Kadriye, 66)

Expressing such strong emotions, Kadriye wanted to age independently. Her motivation for ageing in place differed from other interviewees who wanted to age close to their families. She motivated her choice/wish by pointing to the differences in the care arrangements in Turkey and Sweden:

I think it is better to age in Sweden than Turkey. You need to pay for everything but at least they come and help you. It is not like that in Turkey, either your children take care of you, or they give you to a care home… (Kadriye, 66)

Kadriye thought that the options for old age care in Turkey were too limited, in that older people were either dependant on their children or would be “given” to a care home against their will. For her, both scenarios made Turkey an unsuitable place to age. Another interviewee who wanted to age in place was Sude, who had two daughters. She stated that she had already planned her future living arrangements, had the economic resources to do so and therefore did not need to rely on care from her daughters in the future:

If I get really sick I would like to live in a private care home rather than being a burden to my daughters. In that sense, I already have a plan. Thankfully (touch wood), I have no economic problems. So that’s my future. I don’t have any plans to move to Portugal or Turkey or wherever. I love Sweden so much and I want to stay here and die here. (Sude, 65)

Although Sude’s answer demonstrated an emotional attachment to place, which is closely tied to her love for Sweden, it is important to note that her freedom of choice was connected to her socio-economic class. At the time of the interview, she was newly retired. Therefore, she pointed to the possibility of a “retirement migration” to Portugal as it was common for well-off retirees from Sweden to move to Southern Europe after retirement. She also mentioned that she had no intention of moving back to Turkey because she loved Sweden and wanted to die here. This indicated that she had no intention to age in-between, as is assumed for many ageing migrants with economic means.

Doing old age care through death and funerals in a translocal context

As already mentioned, no questions were asked about death or funerals during the interviews, although these topics did emerge as themes when the interviewees talked about their ideal later life scenarios. Consequently, they formed an important part of the analysis. In this study, later life is understood in relation to the life course and indicates the “later” stages of life that coincides with old age and the years after retirement. The ideal later life scenarios of the women revolved around old age care with a focus on intergenerational care and death/funeral arrangements. While narratives around intergenerational care have already been discussed, there is need for more extensive consideration of narratives related to death and funerals since these narratives are intricate manifestations of ageing in a translocal context.

The women who talked about death saw it as a natural part of life and therefore seemed at ease with it. Narratives around funerals emerged when the women reflected on the coming years of their lives. They either talked about their own funeral preferences or how they had planned/organised funerals for close family members. Regarding their own funeral arrangements, it was either the women themselves who initiated the discussions or their children. Often, the death of a family member triggered initial discussions about death and funerals. The women who had lost their spouses were more open and ready to talk about death and funerals with their families, but also with the interviewer.

For the interviewed women, whether to be buried, cremated, or buried in Turkey or Sweden were important aspects of their later life arrangements. These arrangements were manifested as a way of doing old age in a translocal context. All the interviewees who talked about death stated that they wished to be buried in Sweden so that they could be close to their children. This finding contrasted with a recent study from the UK in which Turkish-born older adults stated that they wanted to be buried in Turkey as a post-mortem version of the “myth of return” (Cakmak, 2021). This can be understood as a sign that the interviewees were more rooted in Sweden than in Turkey. Not only did they age in place, they also wanted to die in place.

Many of the women had provided care for their sick or dying spouses and taken an active role in the organisation of their funerals. Therefore, it is perhaps not surprising that they also contemplated their own death and funerals as they aged. For those who had lost their spouses, a common wish was to be buried in close proximity to them:

My children asked me where I want to be buried, and I said, ‘find a place next to your father’. We talk about these things openly in the family (…) We know that we were all born so of course we know that we will also die one day. (Pınar, 64)

Pınar had lost her husband prior to the interview, which meant that it was a recently discussed topic in the family. Her children initiated the discussion, and she explained her wish to them, as she had already reflected on it. The available funeral services often determined the funeral arrangements. For instance, some women were Muslims and wanted to be buried in a Muslim graveyard by an imam with all the Islamic rituals, such as washing the body before burial, reciting Islamic prayers at the time of the burial and being buried in a kefen (a white fabric) rather than a coffin. Those who were Christians or non-practising Muslims made their plans according to the prevailing Swedish regulations. This meant that they wished to be cremated or buried in a Christian or multi-religious graveyard in their neighbourhoods. The Muslim women paid a monthly fee to Diyanet (Directorate of Religious Affairs in Turkey) and in return were guaranteed a burial wherever they wished for following the Islamic rituals. Sibel was one of the women who stated that she wanted to be buried in Sweden according to Islamic rituals, but also in a coffin:

Here they bury you in a coffin because it is forbidden otherwise. But I would not want to be buried barely on the soil anyway… (laughs) I want to be buried in a coffin and I tell my daughter… tell her that I want a white coffin, and I want white flowers on it. (Sibel, 66)

Sibel wanted to have a middle way by being buried in a coffin decorated with flowers, which is not a common practice in Turkey but is in Sweden. However, being cremated was not a considered option for her. Her answer demonstrated an example of the negotiation between common practices in Sweden and Turkey. Through this negotiation, Sibel was doing old age within a translocal context.

What was important to all the interviewees was to be close to their families even after death, which was why they all wished to be buried or cremated in Sweden. When Pinar talked about her husband’s funeral, she recalled her discussion with her own father, who had also passed away in Sweden:

Both my parents are buried here (in Sweden), my dad is buried in Stockholm because there were no Muslim graveyards here (in her city) when he died. I asked him before he died, and he said he has no-one to come and visit his grave in Turkey. He said ‘you, my children… you are here, my soul will leave this place anyway, my body will melt into the soil, does it matter where?’ So, I asked my husband before he died too and he said ‘you are my family. I want to be close to you and our children’. (Pinar, 64)

As can be seen from these narratives, the women were not only in charge of their own funeral arrangements but also those of other family members. As many of the women were the main orchestraters of care arrangements in their families, it was their task to organise the funeral arrangements for others. Neriman was one of the women who had lost her husband several years ago after a long period of illness and now lived alone. When talking about care arrangements in her later years she said:

I tell my daughter sometimes ‘you should bury me on top of your father’s grave’ (…) He is buried here, very close to my flat. Almost every time I go for a walk I pass by his graveyard. So, I tell my daughter to bury me there too (…) I want her to know exactly what to do. No to Turkey! (Neriman, 64)

In this case it was Neriman who initiated the discussion about death and funerals despite the resistance from her daughter. As she only had one child, she wanted to make sure that she knew what to do and to bury her in Sweden, close to her late husband, rather than in Turkey. Çiğdem had similar thoughts and was very well prepared:

I pay 200 SEK to Diyanet’s funeral fund each month, so I have the right to be buried wherever I like… I want to be buried here because my children and grandchildren are here. I have already purchased a burial plot/resting place…the only thing is that in Sweden they bury you in a coffin and we don’t do that in Islam. You are buried in a kefen, but here it is forbidden. But at least an imam comes and prays for you. And they wash your body and let the family put soil on the coffin. (Çiğdem, 68)

Citing all the Islamic rituals of burials one by one, Çiğdem felt content with her plans and had made all the arrangements for her own future burial. Her husband was not mentioned in this narrative, even though he was still alive at the time of the interview. She also saw death as a natural ending of life but expressed concerns about possible obstacles to her plans:

One does not fear death my daughter (addressing the interviewer), we will die anyway, but illness…. I think what if I get very ill… what if the hospitals don’t accept me…what if my children can’t come and visit me? It has happened to many people from here. They send their dead bodies (to Turkey) like sending cargo parcels in a package. (Çiğdem, 68)

Here, Çiğdem referred to the changes in repatriation processes between Turkey and Sweden during the COVID-19 pandemic. She was very upset by the fact that all funeral arrangements were on hold during the pandemic, which resulted in changes in the rituals. She explained that people from her neighbourhood in Sweden, who were also from Turkey, were sent to Turkey in planes “like cargo parcels” with no elaborate rituals and their children were unable to travel to Turkey to take care of the funeral arrangements properly. In Çiğdem’s case, her ethnic/cultural background added yet another layer to her worries about the pandemic and her future funeral.

The findings about post-mortem care practices show that it was the women who were the main orchestrators of post-mortem care in their families, both for others and themselves. They negotiated the terms of care with their children, allocated money and did the emotional work of talking about and contemplating death. The findings further showed that they were influenced by both the Turkish and Swedish ways of ageing and performed post-mortem care in a translocal context, which can be seen as another way of doing old age.

Discussion and conclusions

The analysis shows the many ambivalences and dilemmas that the interviewed women face in terms of future expectations and later life ideals. Care, both from a gendered and intergenerational aspect, comes to the fore as a significant site of negotiation and performance in a translocal context and it is through these performances and negotiations that the women “do” old age.

On an empirical level, the study reveals three main findings about how Turkish-born women in Sweden understand, negotiate, and consequently do old age: (1) The translocal context is apparent in the doing, since it informs the women’s identification with different versions of imagined others and with the category of old age in general. Here, the interviewees position themselves according to “Swedish” or “Turkish” ideals when negotiating different understandings of old age with other actors in their lives. (2) As critical sites of negotiation gendered and intergenerational care provide insights into the tensions and dilemmas of ageing as a migrant. The interviews show that the women are aware of the available resources and try to mobilise these resources when needed, or simply accept their situation, despite not being content with it. They negotiate their needs with family members (mostly with their children, but not specifically with their daughters) and tailor the Swedish and Turkish ideals to their situations. This selective adaptation alters the meanings they attach to ageing. Consequently, ageing well means aging independently (like a Swede) and with continuous social (and intergenerational) ties (like a Turk, Kurd, Arab, or Assyrian). In this sense, the women perform agency by manoeuvring around their resources and limitations. (3) Migrancy brings a unique feature to later life arrangements regarding post-mortem practices. The women plan their own funerals whilst organising the post-mortem practices for close family members, which shows a continuation of gendered care from an intersectional perspective. Furthermore, these arrangements reveal the transnational character of ageing since planning requires adjusting to new norms yet keeping old ones. Through this negotiation, they combine Turkish and Swedish practices to achieve the desired arrangements.

On a theoretical level, the study contributes to the ongoing debate in feminist critical gerontology about the need for an intersectional analysis of the life course in order to highlight how different social positions such as gender, age and migrancy influence later life (Aner & Dosch, 2023; Ferrer et al., 2017; Freixas et al., 2012; Torres, 2019). Social positions overlap and generate unique configurations of privilege and inequality along the power axes. These unique configurations reveal the constant interaction and tensions between agency and broader social structures that either restrict or enable women to do old age. By highlighting the “doing” of old age, the study emphasizes the importance of performances in the form of negotiations.

Moreover, the study contributes to the discussions about transnational ageing in which older migrants’ experiences are either categorised as ageing in place (Buffel, 2017) or ageing in-between (Baldassar et al., 2017; Ciobanu et al., 2017). This article nuances this distinction by revealing the complexity of ageing in a translocal context. Even though the interviewees are technically categorised as “aged in place,” they carry multiple translocal characteristics that point to in-between experiences. However, this does not necessarily signal an “either here or there” type of in-betweenness (Sampaio, 2018), but rather a “both here and there” type of in-betweenness. Hence, the study suggests that translocal ageing consists of experiences of both ageing in place and in-between while individuals negotiate (with other actors in their life in addition to imagined others) the different understandings and meanings that are attached to later life.

Lastly, it is important to acknowledge the limitations of the study. All the interviewees in the study stated that they were in good health and able-bodied at the time of the interviews. This, of course, may be due to a selection bias in the recruitment process, since it is very difficult to reach out to women with severe illnesses and in need of care. Future research may wish to include the experiences of women who rely on the care services and/or family to maintain their lives.

Acknowlegments

I am very thankful to all the women who shared their stories with me. I also would like to express my sincere gratitude to my supervisors Helen Peterson and Jenny Alsarve for their unwavering support throughout the entire process of writing this article.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes

1 Although I refer to the same concept as Machat-From, I prefer to use the term “imagined others” rather than “virtual others,” because “virtual others” can be confusing in different settings, such as when talking about ICTs and digital settings.

2 Hence, the term Turkish-born women is used in the article instead of Turkish women.

3 “My daughter” (kızım) is an informal way of addressing younger women in the Turkish language.