I got my first tamga when I was 18. It was a necklace with a pendant that my parents gave me for my birthday. Small, slightly disproportionate, handmade by a jeweler from an old sketch, it immediately became more than just a piece of jewelry to me, and since then, it has always been by my side. It represents home, memory, Crimea.

Since then, the Crimean Tatar flag, like this tamga, has accompanied me everywhere: it is unfurled at rallies, on the peaks of Chatyr-Dag and Hoverla, it flies during concerts and decorates cars, it is raised above houses in Crimea — in joy and sorrow. The flag, like faith, is what remains when it seems that everything has been taken away.

But now, getting back to the holiday.

I remember very well how the initiative to celebrate Crimean Tatar Flag Day came about. At that time, I was the editor-in-chief of the youth magazine NESIL (Generation). In general, in the early 2000s, there was a revival of Crimean Tatar culture in Crimea, and this gave rise to many important initiatives. But most importantly, young people who had grown up in Crimea wanted more than just a home in their native land. It was also important for them to define who they were. In 2010, one of these initiative groups agreed: we need a common holiday. A holiday is a day when we can rejoice, be proud, and be together.

I remember those days very well. We gathered at the Ai-Serez café, a favorite meeting place for Crimean Tatar youth. We pushed tables together, sat down in groups of 10-15 people, and ordered two pots of tea or coffee, because students didn't have money for anything more. But the owners understood us and always treated us to something. It was there, over cups of coffee and tea and inspiring conversations, that we chose the date of the celebration, developed the program, and decided on organizational issues. Some people made posters, others called the artists, and negotiated with the city administration. Those were the golden days of revival... There was a feeling that we were creating our future. 

We searched for a long time for a date that would be suitable for celebrating Flag Day. The first Kurultai of the Crimean Tatar people, where the national flag was first proposed, took place in winter, not the best time for large-scale events. So we turned our attention to the Second Kurultai, which began its work on June 26, 1991. It was this Kurultai that officially approved the flag and anthem and became a milestone in the restoration of national representation. Thus, this date became the basis for a new holiday — Crimean Tatar Flag Day.

Later, an announcement of this first celebration appeared in one of the issues of the magazine NESİL — June 26, 2010. 

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The following year, the Mejlis of the Crimean Tatar People joined the organization, and the holiday gradually gained momentum. Every year, the flag appeared more and more often not only at celebrations and mourning events, but also in everyday life: on T-shirts, in children's drawings, above houses. It became a part of us.

After 2014, the flag's significance only grew. It became a symbol of resistance. When it is impossible to speak out loud, people raise the flag. When rallies are banned, they hang the flag on their balconies.

Today, Crimean Tatar Flag Day is celebrated in Kyiv, Lviv, Istanbul, Warsaw, Berlin, New York, and, despite everything, in Crimea. This is no longer just a date on the calendar. It is a day of our memory, honor, and hope. It is a historical continuity that unites the Crimean Tatars of the time of Hadji Giray and Noman Chelebidzhihan with us today.

Every time I see the blue flag with the golden tamga, I remember that same chain, given as a gift in 18. And I think: a flag is much more than just a piece of fabric. It is an identity that does not bow to time or fear. It is a free home. It will be. 

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