The first time I heard the sounds of  tencere tava, I was deeply touched; it was Saturday, June 1, and the entire city had burst into a mad cacophony of noise. Though no one was quite sure where it was all headed, the unity was profound, and the sounds, quite unforgettable. (Related: "Turkey Protests Shine Light on Tear Gas.")

We were just arriving home from a nearby restaurant; my husband was away on business, but my three kids and I longed to get out of the house and be near others, hoping to eavesdrop on what strangers were saying about the steadily intensifying Gezi Park protests. It was a few minutes past 9, and the insistent drumbeat enveloped us. We