Have you ever entered a place and thought, “I can truly be myself here”? It could be a small coffee shop, a street where you spent your childhood, a bench by the sea, a room at your university, or a table where you meet your friends…
Sometimes, what matters is not the physical characteristics of a place, but how we feel there. Because we do not simply live in a place; we live by belonging to a place.
Recently, I came across a study that made me think about this idea once again. Aslıhan Öztürk’s article, “Is There a Turkish Secular Body? Race, Religion, and Embodied Politics of Secularism,” published in the journal Religions, examines the relationship between bodies, lifestyles, social spaces, and identities in the Beyoğlu and Kadıköy districts of Istanbul.
What I found particularly striking about the article is that it does not view the body merely as a biological structure. Our bodies also communicate who we are, how we live, and how we position ourselves within society. This idea immediately brought me to one of the fundamental questions of occupational therapy:
Do we also experience who we are through the things we do and the places where we spend our lives? I believe we do. What we do tells our story.
In occupational therapy, we understand “occupation” through activities such as preparing a meal, playing with a child, having coffee with a friend, walking, reading a book, listening to music, swimming, or taking part in a community. These are all occupations that give meaning to our lives.
Sometimes, instead of asking someone “Who are you?”, it may be more revealing to ask, “How do you spend your day?” Because our everyday occupations reflect our values, relationships, habits, and expectations from life.
The way a child plays, a mother’s daily routines with her child, an academic’s relationship with students, a retiree’s habit of walking in the same park every morning, or a musician rehearsing with the same group for years… Each of these is part of a person’s occupational identity.
In other words, one of the answers to the question “Who am I?” may be hidden within another question: “How do I live my life?”
Doing is one thing; belonging is another. This brings us to another important concept: Belonging. Doing something and feeling that you belong while doing it are not the same.
A child may be physically present at school but may not feel that they belong in the classroom. An older adult may go to the park but may not participate in its social life. A university student may spend hours on campus but may not feel that they are part of the university community.
Thus, physical access does not necessarily mean genuine participation. We often assess health through bodily functions: Can the person walk? Can they dress themselves? Can they eat independently? Can they carry out activities of daily living? All of these are, of course, important. Yet human well-being does not end there.
What a person is able to do matters, but so does being able to participate in the things they want to do. Moreover, when those activities provide meaning and allow a person to feel part of a community, they may have an important role in quality of life.
Therefore, we should not think of participation merely as being physically present in a place.
Participation means being there, doing something, connecting with others, finding meaning, and feeling that you belong.Places also shape us. Our homes, schools, workplaces, parks, cafés, sports facilities, cultural centers, and seaside spaces… Each place makes us feel differently.
In some places, we speak freely. In others, we become quieter. Some places make us feel safe. In others, even when we are physically able to enter and use the space, we may still feel socially excluded.
Therefore, we should not evaluate environments solely according to their physical characteristics. Environments also have social and cultural dimensions.
A ramp may provide physical accessibility. But feeling accepted and welcomed in that environment is related to social accessibility.
I believe this is particularly important for preventive occupational therapy. Sometimes, what distances a person from life is not only physical limitation, but also the weakening of social connections.
Being Able to Say, “I Belong Here”
Singing in a choir, joining a walking group, talking with neighbors, being part of a book club, participating in volunteer activities, or a child playing with friends may seem like small everyday occupations at first glance.
Yet these experiences bring rhythm, meaning, connection, and belonging into our lives.
For this reason, preventive health does not always require complex interventions. Preventing an older adult from becoming socially isolated, helping a child join a safe playgroup, or supporting a student in feeling that they are part of their university community can also be approaches that promote health.
Perhaps we should occasionally ask our clients:
“What do you enjoy doing?”
“What would you like to do but cannot?”
“Where do you feel most comfortable?”
“Who are the people around whom you can truly be yourself?”
And, perhaps most importantly:
“What in your life makes you say, ‘I belong here’?”
These questions can change the way we assess people. Because our goal may not simply be to enable a person to perform an activity again, but to help them reconnect with life through that activity.
For years, I have described occupational therapy as a health profession that touches people's everyday lives. Today, I would like to add one more word to that sentence: Belonging.
People do not become healthy simply by moving, eating well, or preventing disease. We also experience well-being by doing meaningful things, connecting with people we care about, expressing ourselves, and feeling that we belong somewhere.
Perhaps a person’s healing can begin with finding a place where they feel they belong. Belonging is more than we may think: it is a powerful component of human well-being.
Reference
Öztürk, A. (2025). Is There a Turkish Secular Body? Race, Religion, and Embodied Politics of Secularism. Religions, 16(7), 817.
