aslifilinta Do we even have the heart left to adorn ourselves?
Is there any other color left for us?
And those women — who embroidered these motifs with their hands — who knows whether they served transformation through their pain.
They will tell us when we will wear colors again. They will weave; the time is near.
Until then, our mourning remains black, and red stains our hands.
Still, hope depends on our becoming “We.”
5 March 2023
Biz Collective Women’s Cooperative was founded in July 2025 in Antakya, a city bearing the deepest scars of the February 6 earthquake, by seven women devoted to these lands. Joined later by dozens more women, this initiative is far more than a commercial enterprise; it stands as a tangible expression of rising again amid devastation, of solidarity, and of women’s strength defying adversity.
The ancient cultural memory of Antakya, its production traditions, and women’s labor form the very reason for BİZ’s existence.
The cooperative’s purpose is to transform women’s labor into a visible, sustainable, and fair economic structure; to protect and strengthen local production and cultural heritage; and to build a new development model based on solidarity for women.
BİZ seeks to empower women both economically and socially through handicraft and artisanal production, agriculture and local goods, education and capacity development initiatives, collective design, and sales and marketing activities. By expanding the spirit of solidarity born in Antakya, BİZ works toward a future in which women have a voice in knowledge, production, and decision-making mechanisms.
Our Founding Members
Aslı Filinta
I am Aslı Filinta.
Wherever I may be, my heart always beats for the inspiration rooted in Anatolian soil. My work brings cultural memory together with contemporary design and collective production.
When the earthquake struck, I was not in Türkiye. My first instinct was to board a plane to Antakya. At that very moment, a close family friend reminded me that my true form of service was my creativity. I then shared the message above on social media. That is how the story of “BİZ” began. Black symbolized our shared mourning; blood red represented the responsibility we needed to assume. At that exact time, a collaboration invitation from L’Oréal SkinCeuticals provided the opportunity to transform this intention into a tangible project.
Immediately after the earthquake, I went to Antakya and stayed in tents. I researched women’s cooperatives and discovered Cimem weaving — a craft on the verge of disappearing.
Through the project involving 10,000 Cimem bags designed for L’Oréal, approximately 40 tons of wheat stalk were upcycled; employment was provided for 350 women in the earthquake region; and 35 young women were trained in this craft. Conducted in cooperation with State Development Agencies, this process created a new foundation for community beyond awards and recognition. After the project concluded and our production team dispersed, we established BİZ Collective Women’s Cooperative in July 2025 together with the women we had produced alongside.
I do not see production merely as an economic activity. Production is solidarity, continuity, and healing. Cultural heritage does not survive by preservation alone — it lives by being practiced and transformed. Sustainability cannot be reduced solely to materials; it is a holistic approach that considers soil, human beings, animals, and tradition together. Collective production is not only about economic independence; it is a bond rooted in Anatolia’s memory, culture, and courage.
BİZ is a community of women entrepreneurs devoted to serving through creativity. Inspired by Anatolia, it seeks to make women’s labor visible, to revive collective production, and to contribute to socio-economic development. It represents a stance that elevates craftsmanship, multiplies solidarity, and advocates for materials that nature can reclaim with ease and dignity.
Today, with 7 founders and 55 volunteer women entrepreneurs, BİZ is building a collective creation and production system in which not one individual, but soil, people, tradition, and the future prevail. Anatolia awakens the conscience recorded in our collective memory and reminds us of meaning. The awakening of collective consciousness — and its spread across the world — will emerge from these lands, God willing.
As BİZ uses what has been entrusted to us for the greater good, let us walk this path together. We are ready to move forward together on this path — and to challenge one another to grow along it.
Süheyla Hocaoğlu
I am Süheyla Hocaoğlu.
I was born on August 6, 1979, in the Tomarza district of Kayseri. We were there due to my father’s teaching assignment, yet our roots were always in Hatay — our hearts always in our homeland.
In 2014, I began working in Public Education. After the 2023 earthquake, I was shaken by the pain of losing my home and loved ones. In order to recover and hold on to life again, I returned to work and to production.
I am a master instructor of the art of natural wheat stalk weaving (Cimem), a craft that was on the verge of being forgotten. In every stitch lies a memory; in every weave, a hope. By teaching this craft to women within the cooperative, I intend not only to preserve our culture, but also to contribute to their renewed strength.
I know that I am no longer alone. We transform our pain into labor and become a powerful “We” through collective production. We heal our wounds by creating shared value together.
Yıldız Irmak Güleryüz
I am Yıldız Irmak Güleryüz.
I was born on July 15, 1980, in Antakya. In the February 6 earthquakes, I lost my 18-year-old daughter Nur, my husband, my two brothers, and many relatives.
The Biz Collective Women’s Cooperative we founded became, for me, like breathing again. By taking part in the production and quality control team, I did not simply work — I transformed my pain into labor and my hope into creation. Through producing, I grow stronger. Through producing, I hold onto life once more. After a period in which my life was tested by immense loss, it regains meaning again. The cooperative is not merely a workplace; it has become a gateway to life woven with hope, solidarity, and the possibility of rising again.
Within the production and quality control team, I rebuild not only products, but also my own strength, patience, and belief in the future. I heal through production. Every item I inspect, every task I complete, becomes my way of saying: “I am still here. I am still strong.”
Within Biz Collective Cooperative, I exist through my labor. Through production, I return to life.
Güner Kuşçu
I was born on the very first day of 1965 in Hatay. I grew up on this land, I loved here, and I built my home here. As a married mother of two, I wove my life with labor, patience, and love.
Then the earthquake came.
It shook not only our homes, but also our memories, our sense of order, and the feeling of life within us. We all scattered a little, grew weary a little, diminished a little. Yet we did not give up. Because we are women who know how to rise again.
The cooperative we founded is not merely a workplace; for us, it is a story of hope, solidarity, and beginning again. While producing handicrafts here, we are not only creating products — we are rebuilding ourselves. In Hatay, the spaces where we can socialize have diminished. But within this cooperative, we become strength for one another. We heal by speaking, by laughing, by producing. With every stitch, every effort, every creation, we grow stronger.
Because we know:
We are more beautiful together.
We are stronger as we produce.
And through solidarity, we can heal every wound.
Tülay İpek
I was born on September 7, 1984, in Sofular. I am married and a mother of three children. We lost our home in the earthquake. Thanks be to God, we did not lose our lives — but our lives changed completely. I lived in a tent for one and a half years. During those difficult days, beginning to produce within this cooperative became almost like therapy for me — a way of holding onto life again.
Within the cooperative, I weave Cimem as taught by our instructor Süheyla. In every stitch, I transform my pain into patience and my hope into labor. There were times when I learned that those who fall are often left alone. Yet throughout this process, I also met people with beautiful hearts and strong spirits, and I grew to love them all deeply. Through women’s solidarity, we found strength. We supported one another. By producing together, we healed our wounds and became a powerful “We.”
Cevahir Sever
I am Cevahir Sever.
I was born on April 9, 1998, in Antakya. I grew up in this city. I gathered memories and built dreams here. Antakya was not just my hometown; it was the sound of my childhood and the imprint of my youth.
Then February 6 happened.
I lost many of my loved ones. Not only people — I lost the streets where I grew up and the corners filled with memories. I believed that my memories had been erased along with my city. We endured difficult days. We experienced pain, loss, and exhaustion — yet we did not give up. Because we chose to hold on. We emerged from the darkness stronger.
After that, I did not leave my hometown. I chose to stay. I chose to heal through production and to become hope through work. I tried to build a new life from our ashes. I am grateful that I stayed.On our journey within BİZ, I stand on the side that makes the labor of our producing women visible. I document their production processes through photographs and videos. I tell their stories through images. As part of the design and social media team, I carry the voice, the face, and the spirit of our cooperative outward.
In short, I am the eye that tells you the story of our cooperative through photographs. For that reason, I strive to reflect the labor in every frame and the hope in every post exactly as it is — without embellishment. Because I know that handicraft, in its pure form, is already beautiful and valuable.
Together with the remarkable women whose paths crossed mine within this cooperative, we walk a path. The name of that path is: We.
This road may be stony, at times broken, at times muddy — but when we hold hands, it is so beautiful that I wish it would never end.
Ayşe Varer
I am Ayşe Varer.
I was born on June 11, 1999, in Antakya. I am 26 years old and married.
In the earthquake, I lost the home where I grew up. My family and I survived — and for that we gave thanks. Yet our memories and values remained within that house. The pain of losing our home, our neighborhood, and our city is still fresh within me.
After February 6, we believed everything was over. Yet we found one another. Pain did not separate us; it brought us side by side. In order to hold on, we chose to produce — and on that path, the Biz Collective Cooperative was born.
Within the cooperative, I oversee accounting. I do not get lost among numbers; I strive to protect the value of labor. Every product recorded becomes, for me, part of a rebuilt life and a growing hope.
Biz Collective Women’s Cooperative is not merely a workplace for me; it is the embodiment of solidarity, shared healing, and renewed strength. Here, I learned to move beyond “I” and become BİZ. And I know that as we produce together and heal together, life regains meaning.
