Nilüfer Cengiz was a university student when Turkey was rapidly heading to an imminent coup in 1997. She was about to complete her studies when the country's secular elite, led by powerful generals, were preparing to issue an ultimatum to the coalition government dominated by a party backed by the country's religious conservatives. The only obstacle in her path to graduation was a simple piece of headgear Muslim women wore in an era of witch hunts against the faithful. She rejected removing it when administrators asked her during her thesis exam. The result was a ban from the exam and eight years of waiting to get her diploma.Cengiz is among many victims of the Feb. 28 coup that disrupted the lives of people distinguished from other citizens of the Republic for their beliefs. On the 19th anniversary of the so-called post-modern coup, whose name comes from the fact that it did not involve any bloodshed associated with past coups, Cengiz and others remember the years the coup stole from them.A military ultimatum issued on Feb. 28, 1997, by a circle of generals ruling the military started a process where the democratically elected government was toppled. It was a culmination of a nationwide witch hunt against conservatives that saw hundreds of thousands of young women's right to an education violated simply because they wore headscarves.It started in December 1995 when the now-defunct Welfare Party (RP) won the general elections by garnering only 21 percent of vote.A coalition government was formed by the center-right True Path Party (DYP) and Motherland Party (ANAP) to prevent the RP from coming to power. However, the DYP-ANAP coalition failed to last, and Necmettin Erbakan, leader of the RP, became the prime minister of the newly formed RP-DYP coalition government, having passed a vote of confidence on July 8, 1996. It was the first time Erbakan came to power. What followed was visible anger from the military, the self-styled guardians of the Republic's secularism, against the RP and Muslims linked or not linked to the party. The generals had repeatedly denounced what they perceived was an onset of a sharia regime. The media, judiciary and bureaucracy joined the military in a defamation campaign against Muslims. Soon, the media was awash with reports disparaging Muslims such as a woman caught in bed with "the leader of a religious group" or almost daily coverage of news about "Muslims calling for sharia law to be implemented." Finally, on Feb. 28, 1997, the Turkish Armed Forces, in a scathing statement, said secularism was the assurance of democracy and law in Turkey, and called on the government to approve certain measures, such as the introduction of eight-year compulsory education, which effectively prevented religious education. Erbakan was forced to step down in June 1997 following the army's pressure, and his party was closed one year later for "violating the constitution's separation of religion and state clause."Cengiz was looking forward to a career in translation or teaching after enrolling in Erciyes University in central Turkey in 1994. Right before graduation she presented her undergraduate thesis and was supposed to take a comprehensive exam with other students to formally complete her studies. When lecturers at her school said she would not be allowed to take the exam because of her headscarf, she sought approval from her faculty dean. His answer was clear: "If you insist, I will cancel the exam for the others too." "I thought of my classmates and how this would affect them. So, I decided not to take the exam," she told Anadolu Agency (AA). Her only option was a lawsuit against the university, but her repeated attempts were blocked as she said authorities told her that her lawsuits "would not be concluded anytime soon." She gave up the fight and worked at odd jobs for years before she was finally granted a pardon by the state and graduated from the school in 2005. "It was nice to receive a diploma even after all this happened. I see it as one of the challenges in one's life. It taught me to stand against all odds and to resist. It was a series of unfortunate events for me and it affected my whole life. For instance, I couldn't tell my child why I had to drop out of school. I couldn't even find an internship because of my headscarf and couldn't find a job in my field of study," she said.The process leading up to the coup and its aftermath saw a series of harsh restrictions imposed on religious life. Wearing a headscarf at public institutions and universities was banned, and religious organizations focused on teaching the Quran were shut down. Ayten Yadigar suffered similarly to Cengiz, as her wearing a headscarf cut short her teaching career. Yadigar was an English teacher at an imam hatip school - schools with an additional Islamic theological curriculum - before she resigned one year before the coup. Yadigar said she suffered from pressure from the education authorities for wearing a headscarf and faced disciplinary action. Finally, she bowed to pressure to remove her headscarf and resigned from her job in the northwestern city of Tekirdağ. "I was forced to resign while my colleagues were fired from their jobs. It was tough times," she recalled, three years after she was finally granted a job at a public school after the ban against teachers wearing headscarves expired after 15 years. The driving forces in the military and judiciary that staged the coup adversely affected Turkey's education system by introducing more stringent standards to keep students at imam hatip schools and vocational schools - established to train state-assigned imams - out of higher education and prevent them from attending university. Through a scheme downgrading their score in university exams, female students who wore headscarves were disqualified from university admissions, and even if they passed, they faced discrimination for doing so.Women with headscarves were not the only victims of the witch hunt. As the military increased its pressure on conservative citizens, the Turkish Supreme Military Council (YAŞ) blacklisted some religious military officials and discharged them from the military. Ercan Görgülü and Hüseyin Görgülü are two cousins who were serving as noncommissioned officers in the Army before they were dismissed because their wives wore headscarves, something that was not allowed within military installations. With no prospect of employment, the two men worked as street vendors and drivers for years to earn their livings. Finally, they returned to public sector jobs, and they now work as civil servants at the local health authority in the central city of Nevşehir. Ercan said he had been an officer for nine years when the pressure from his superiors began. "They repeatedly invited us to parties with our wives and naturally, our wives had to attend without their headscarves. My wife made up excuses not to attend because we were aware they simply wanted her to come to find out if she was wearing a headscarf or not. Soon after, I faced a disciplinary investigation and was fired," he told AA. "As they were preparing to discharge me, some of my superiors said I wouldn't be able to find a job 'even as a garbage collector.' I worked as a street vendor, I worked many difficult jobs to take care of my family," he said. Likewise, Hasan was fired from his job at a gendarmerie command because his wife wore a headscarf. "I suffered mentally and physically," he said.