Through Rights in Frame, Sulukule Volunteers Association brought together 45 children between the ages of 10 and 18 for 18 weeks of rights-based workshops designed to support their psychosocial recovery. Using play, movement, art, and conversation, the children explored their emotions, strengthened communication and self-confidence, learned about their rights, and built relationships with one another.

Building trust was an important part of the process. Children and families in earthquake-affected communities continued to navigate uncertainty, displacement, and the emotional consequences of the disaster. The workshops created a consistent environment where children could gather, ask questions, share their thoughts, build friendships, and gradually feel more comfortable expressing themselves.

For 15 of the children, that process eventually moved behind the camera.

Together, they developed a short film around the story of a sheep. At first glance, it was a simple story. But underneath was something the children understood deeply: what it feels like when decisions are made for you without your needs, feelings, or perspective being fully considered.

When asked what their film represented, the children described it simply as “rights and freedom.” And when they talked about freedom, they defined it in their own words as “not limiting the rights of others.”

The children took ownership of the creative process, shaping the story and contributing to stop-motion animation and voiceovers. Along the way, they navigated interruptions from flooding, electrical problems, weather, and other unexpected challenges. Each time, they returned to the work and continued creating together.

The result was more than a short film. It was a story shaped by their imaginations and experiences, told in their own voices.

The project culminated in a community screening where the children could share what they had created with others. TPF’s grant also supported child-safety training for civil society professionals working with children in post-disaster settings, extending the lessons of the project beyond the workshop itself.

In a period of their lives shaped by circumstances largely beyond their control, Rights in Frame gave children something that belonged entirely to them: the opportunity to decide what story they wanted to tell and how they wanted to tell it.

And this time, the adults listened.

By Şenay Ataselim-Yılmaz, PhD

This week, I joined a table discussion at the Clinton Global Initiative titled “Disaster Response and Beyond: How Humanitarian Actors Can Drive Long-term Recovery and Resilience.” Led by GlobalGiving, and moderated by Taylor Dudley from Center for Disaster Philanthropy,  the conversation focused on a challenge that has become increasingly important across humanitarian and philanthropic work: how to bridge the gap between immediate disaster response and the much longer process of recovery.

We discussed what it means to plan for recovery early, to recognize local community organizations as responders in their own right, and to create greater continuity between emergency funding and the longer-term investments communities need to recover, adapt, and become more resilient.

The conversation felt especially timely for me because these are questions we have been wrestling with at Turkish Philanthropy Funds for the last few years.

Since the February 2023 earthquakes in Türkiye, our Earthquake Fund has moved through several distinct stages from immediate relief to recovery, from recovery to resilience, and now toward sustainability. Throughout that journey, we have repeatedly asked ourselves not only what communities need next, but also what our own role should become as those needs evolve. And, increasingly, one question has come to the center:

How does a disaster fund leave responsibly?

When a disaster strikes, philanthropy knows how to move quickly. Money is raised. Emergency grants are made. Food, shelter, health care, education, and psychosocial support become immediate priorities. Donors want to help, nonprofits mobilize, and funders build new partnerships at extraordinary speed. But the harder work begins when the emergency phase ends: public attention moves on, giving declines, and emergency funds begin to close while communities remain in the long process of recovery.

If disaster philanthropy is meant to contribute not only to survival but to long-term recovery and resilience, then responsible exit cannot be something we think about only when the money is nearly gone. At TPF, this is not a question we have started asking only now, as we approach the conclusion of our Earthquake Fund. Since 2023, we have repeatedly asked how long earthquake-specific philanthropy should continue, how the needs of affected communities were changing, what role TPF should play at each stage of recovery, and what would need to be in place before we could responsibly step away. Throughout this process, our understanding of what should come next has been shaped by the organizations working in affected communities, their staff, and the people they serve.

For us, locally led recovery does not mean stepping away from strategy or from the responsibility that comes with stewarding philanthropic resources. It means building that strategy with a much deeper understanding of what local organizations are seeing, what communities are experiencing, and how needs are changing over time. TPF still has a responsibility to assess results, financial accountability, organizational capacity, sustainability, and the overall use of limited resources. But those decisions should be grounded in ongoing dialogue with the organizations closest to the work and informed by the priorities and realities they bring forward. In that sense, our role is not to determine the future of local organizations, but to use philanthropy strategically in ways that strengthen their ability to shape that future themselves.

More than three years after the earthquakes, TPF’s Earthquake Fund has mobilized more than $20 million from more than 100,000 donors around the world and supported a broad network of civil society organizations working across earthquake-affected communities. Over that period, our grantmaking evolved significantly from immediate humanitarian relief to education, mental health, livelihoods, women’s economic participation, youth development, disability inclusion, social cohesion, environmental recovery, and the strengthening of local civil society. We supported organizations responding to urgent needs, but we also invested in locally rooted actors, partnerships, and community capacity that could play a role long after the emergency itself had passed.

That evolution required us to continually reassess what recovery meant. At different stages, the right intervention looked very different: first meeting urgent needs, then helping communities regain stability, then strengthening resilience, and increasingly asking what institutions, services, relationships, and local capacities need to remain in place for the long term. The Earthquake Fund therefore became more than a sequence of grants; it became an evolving recovery strategy shaped by changing conditions on the ground and by what we were learning from our partners.

From relatively early in that evolution, we also knew that a fund created in response to an extraordinary disaster could not, and should not, become permanent. The question was never simply when to stop funding. It was how to build toward an exit responsibly, while protecting the strongest organizations, capacities, and approaches that had emerged through the recovery.

Exit Planning Should Begin Long Before the Exit

In disaster philanthropy, exit is sometimes treated as the final administrative stage of a fund: the budget runs down, final grants are made, reports are collected, and the fund closes. We believe that thinking about exit only at that point is too late. Exit planning should influence decisions much earlier, including which organizations are funded, whether local capacity is being strengthened, whether organizations are becoming dependent on emergency resources, whether programs are responding to current rather than historical needs, and whether funders are helping build institutions that can survive after extraordinary philanthropic attention subsides.

What do communities and local organizations identify as important to sustain when TPF is no longer funding this work?

Disaster Response Has a Life Cycle 

The first months after the earthquakes demanded speed. TPF supported organizations responding to immediate humanitarian needs and helping communities navigate extraordinary disruption. But the needs did not remain static. As emergency response moved into recovery, our grantmaking evolved toward education, mental health, livelihoods, women’s economic participation, youth, disability inclusion, social cohesion, environmental recovery, and longer-term community resilience.

Emergency Response → Recovery → Resilience → Sustainability

This progression reinforced something that now shapes our broader approach to disaster philanthropy: a disaster fund should not be viewed simply as a pool of money distributed through a succession of grants. It has a life cycle, and each stage requires different forms of capital and asks different questions. At first, the question is what people need right now; later, it becomes what will enable communities to recover, what capacities will make them more resilient, and eventually what needs to be sustainable without us. A funder that continues answering the first question long after the context has changed risks extending an emergency model beyond its usefulness. We believe responsible philanthropy has to move with the community.

The Danger of Staying Too Long, and Leaving Too Quickly

There are risks on both sides of philanthropic exit. Leaving too quickly can destabilize organizations that have become essential parts of local recovery. Disaster-response organizations may have hired teams, built community trust, developed specialized expertise, established local partnerships, and assumed responsibilities that did not exist before the crisis. Abrupt withdrawal can put all of that at risk.

Staying indefinitely carries its own risks. Emergency philanthropy can unintentionally become part of an organization’s permanent financial model. Activities can continue because funding remains available rather than because they still represent the highest priority. Organizations may delay building diversified revenue because disaster-specific support continues. Responsible exit, therefore,  requires navigating between two undesirable outcomes: Our goal has been neither to withdraw suddenly nor to sustain every organization and program indefinitely, but to help organizations and investments that have demonstrated meaningful value to their communities and have a credible path forward beyond earthquake-specific philanthropy.

From Funding Projects to Asking What Should Remain

One of the most significant shifts in our thinking has been moving from asking “What should we fund next?” to asking “What should remain after we leave?” Those questions sound similar, but they lead to very different grantmaking decisions. A successful program may still not warrant another grant; an organization may have performed extremely well but need a different kind of support; and a smaller investment in organizational capacity might ultimately create more lasting value than another year of program delivery.

A project might also need to end while the knowledge, network, trained staff, or community capacity developed through it should remain. Once the exit becomes the lens, the objective changes. The goal is no longer continuation for its own sake, but helping ensure that the value communities and local organizations have built can endure.

Our Exit Strategy Has Two Phases

After years of observing how the recovery evolved and discussing what a responsible transition should look like, TPF is structuring the final stage of the Earthquake Fund around two complementary approaches. The first focuses on helping locally rooted organizations strengthen their ability to remain effective and sustainable; the second focuses on successful investments whose impact may benefit from one final strategic grant.

Phase One: Institutional Sustainability

Some organizations that became important parts of the recovery ecosystem are deeply rooted in earthquake-affected communities. They have built trust, knowledge, relationships, staff capacity, and physical presence that would be difficult to recreate. Yet many operate in an increasingly difficult funding environment as international and domestic attention shifts elsewhere. For a selected group of these organizations, TPF will provide flexible institutional support for up to two years.

We have been very deliberate about what this funding represents. It is not simply two more years of operating support. It is intended to serve as a bridge to sustainability. Organizations will be expected to use this period to strengthen areas such as strategic planning, governance, fundraising, revenue diversification, financial systems, partnerships, organizational infrastructure, and leadership, while articulating how they intend to operate in a world where TPF’s Earthquake Fund no longer exists.

If this organization is important to the long-term well-being of its community, what must become stronger now so that it can remain there without depending on earthquake-specific philanthropy?


That distinction matters because philanthropy often invests heavily in programs and not enough in the institutions responsible for delivering them. Long-term recovery ultimately depends upon capable local organizations, not permanently funded emergency projects.

Phase Two: Strategic Final Investments

Our second phase asks a different question. Across several years of grantmaking, some projects, partnerships, services, and models have demonstrated meaningful results, and in some cases, one additional investment may allow those results to become more durable. TPF will therefore consider a limited number of strategic follow-up grants to current and recent partners, but these will not be conventional renewals, and strong past performance will not, by itself, qualify an organization for another grant.

Instead, we will ask why TPF should make one more investment in the work before we leave, and what will remain because we did. A strong proposal might institutionalize a successful model, help transition a service to local ownership, strengthen a network that no longer needs TPF at its center, leverage another funder or partner, or preserve knowledge, infrastructure, skills, or local capacity developed through previous investments. The important distinction is between funding continuation and funding transition. Those are not the same thing.

The Exit Criteria Matter

We also want our decisions to be disciplined. Relationships become deep during disaster response. Funders and grantees work through difficult circumstances together, sometimes for years. And that trust matters enormously. But relationships alone cannot determine final investments. We are reviewing opportunities through several lenses: whether the previous investment demonstrated strong results, whether the need remains relevant today, why additional funding is required, what will be different because another grant is made, what lasting value will remain, whether there is a credible pathway beyond TPF funding, and whether the organization has demonstrated strong financial stewardship and reporting.

We are also asking whether each investment makes sense not only on its own, but as part of the final Earthquake Fund portfolio. That question becomes increasingly important as a disaster fund matures. At the beginning, the unit of analysis is often the immediate need; near the end, it should increasingly become the ecosystem.

Look at the Ecosystem, Not Only the Grants

After years of grantmaking, funders have an unusual vantage point because they can see across organizations, geographies, issues, and approaches. That creates a responsibility to step back and ask which organizations are recognized by their communities and partners as important local anchors, where local capacity has grown, where critical gaps remain, which services are duplicated, where local organizations and communities are already taking greater ownership, and what support may help that transition.

These questions sometimes produce uncomfortable answers. Not every successful project will require continued philanthropic support, and in some cases the right outcome may be a transition, adaptation, or responsible conclusion shaped with local partners. That is precisely why exit needs a strategy.

One of the most important lessons we have learned is that sustainability does not mean permanence. Philanthropy sometimes treats the continuation of a program as evidence of success. But some interventions exist because an emergency created an extraordinary need. If that need changes, continuing the intervention indefinitely may not be the right objective.

A program can end successfully. A temporary service can accomplish its purpose. What matters is whether the value created through the investment remains. Perhaps people were trained. A community network was established. An organization became stronger. A methodology was documented. A partnership was institutionalized. Local leadership developed. Knowledge remained in the community. The activity may conclude while the impact continues. That is a very different understanding of sustainability, and one particularly important in disaster philanthropy.

Measure What Remains

The philanthropic sector is understandably interested in what happens while a disaster fund is active: how much money was raised, how quickly it was deployed, how many grants were made, and how many people were reached. Those are important measures. But as we move toward the final years of TPF’s Earthquake Fund, we have become increasingly interested in another set of questions: what will remain five years from now, which organizations and partnerships will still be serving their communities, which capabilities will have become institutionalized, whether organizations will have diversified their funding, and whether communities will be better equipped to navigate the next crisis.

Those outcomes are much harder to capture in a grant report, but they may ultimately tell us more about whether disaster philanthropy succeeded.

Exit Is Part of the Response

Perhaps the most important lesson from our experience is that an exit strategy should not be thought of as something separate from disaster response. Thinking about how you leave changes how you enter. It encourages funders to invest earlier in local institutions, creates greater discipline around temporary programs, forces conversations about financial dependency, and puts sustainability on the table before the final grant.

TPF did not arrive at its Earthquake Fund exit strategy overnight. It has emerged from years of grantmaking, observation, conversation, adjustment, and sometimes difficult questions about our own role. The discussion at CGI this week reinforced something our own experience has been teaching us for several years: the transition from humanitarian response to long-term recovery requires deliberate planning and sustained attention.

If we want communities to emerge from disasters stronger and more resilient, funders must think beyond the immediate response, not only about what comes next for communities, but also about what comes next when philanthropic funding itself begins to recede. That requires planning for local ownership, institutional strength, financial sustainability, and the eventual transition away from disaster-specific funding. In that sense, exit is not separate from disaster response; it is part of responsible disaster response.

The February 2023 earthquakes required TPF to move quickly. Leaving requires something different: the responsibility to support a thoughtful transition as communities move from recovery toward longer-term resilience.  The success of a disaster fund should not ultimately be measured only by what happened while the funder was present, but also by what remained strong enough to continue after the funder was gone.

Explore TPF Earthquake Fund

• BinYaprak / TurkishWin – BinYaprak / TurkishWin, $27,537

Support the employability and career readiness of 50 young women through peer mentoring circles, expert sessions, networking support, and structured job search guidance. It will also develop a scalable and repeatable Job Search Sisterhood Circles model for future cohorts.

• Defne Kadın Girişimi Uretim ve Işletme Kooperatifi – Defne Women’s Cooperative, $55,355

Strengthen the long-term recovery, psychosocial well-being, and economic resilience of approximately 100 women in Hatay through a combined model of healing, sustainable production, disaster preparedness, and local solidarity, while supporting women-led agricultural production and cooperative-based livelihoods.

• Dünya İnsani Dayanışma Derneği (WHR) – World Human Relief, $115,370

Provide trauma-focused mental health and psychosocial support services for 166 direct beneficiaries in Hatay. It will also strengthen WHR’s institutional disaster preparedness and emergency response capacity through disaster planning, first response systems, and coordination mechanisms for future emergencies.

• Erişilebilir ve Sürdürülebilir ve Yaşam Derneği (ESYAD) – Accessible and Sustainable Living Association, $88,580

Strengthen disaster resilience and livelihood continuity for about 300 vulnerable micro-enterprises and independent producers in Hatay through business continuity planning, disaster preparedness, psychosocial support, and resilience training, while developing a replicable micro-enterprise resilience model for future preparedness.

• Gelecek Nesil Bilim Derneği – Next Generation Science Association, $89,920

Provide drone soccer and FPV drone piloting training to 734 earthquake-affected children and youth in Hatay, supporting technological skills, psychosocial well-being, social participation, and future employability through STEM-based sports and hands-on learning opportunities.

• Hatay Senfoni Orkestrası Kültür ve Sanat Derneği – Hatay Symphony Orchestra Culture and Art Association, $66,969

Support up to 40 adults and young people in Hatay through a 48-week polyphonic choir training and performance program. This initiative will contribute to cultural recovery, psychosocial well-being, social connection, and the rebuilding of local cultural life after the earthquake.

• Samandağ Spor Kulübü – Samandağ Sports Club, $101,690

Provide safe, inclusive, and regular sports activities to 1,500 earthquake-affected children and engage at least 1,000 caregivers in Samandag, while strengthening psychosocial well-being, girls’ participation, child participation, and disaster awareness through a scalable sports-based recovery and preparedness model.

• Talebeyiz Biz Derneği – Talebeyiz Biz Association, $51,183

Support at least 50 young people and artists in Hatay through youth-led arts, cultural production, workshops, exhibitions, performances, and AI-based creative activities. This effort will strengthen psychosocial well-being, participation, collective resilience, and local cultural recovery in the post-earthquake context.

• Toplum Gönüllüleri Vakfı (TOG) – Community Volunteers Foundation, $108,882

Support+1,600 young people in Hatay by operating and expanding the Hatay Campus. This youth-centered community hub provides psychosocial support, education, arts and culture activities, volunteerism, climate awareness, and civic engagement opportunities within a long-term recovery and resilience framework.

• Türkiye Spastik Çocuklar Vakfı – Cerebral Palsy Turkiye, $139,800

Provide comprehensive rehabilitation, physiotherapy, special education, psychosocial support, and mobility services to 100 children with disabilities and amputee individuals in Hatay through its permanent disability support center and mobile outreach services.

With this announcement, the TPF Earthquake Fund has now supported 96 partner organizations through 187 projects. Together, these organizations have reached millions of people while addressing evolving needs in education, youth development, economic opportunity, psychosocial support, and community resilience.

Explore TPF Turkiye Earthquake Fund

Three years after the February 6, 2023 earthquakes, one lesson stands out above all others: recovery is not a linear process.

In the immediate aftermath of disaster, needs are visible and urgent. People need food, shelter, medical care, and safety. As time passes, however, recovery becomes more complex. Communities begin confronting challenges that are less visible but no less important: rebuilding local economies, supporting mental health, creating opportunities for young people, strengthening institutions, and restoring a sense of possibility about the future.

These are not challenges that can be addressed through a single intervention or funding cycle. They evolve over time, requiring local leadership, adaptability, and strong networks of support.

Over the past three years, we have had the opportunity to work alongside 96 partner organizations implementing 187 projects across the earthquake-affected region of Türkiye. Through these partnerships, we have witnessed something important: recovery is often driven not by individual projects alone, but by the growth of local organizations and the relationships that enable communities to respond to changing needs.

Lessons from the Field 

I was reminded of this recently while meeting with Hatay Surf Center. Two years ago, the organization operated from a single container on the shores of Samandağ, providing children and young people with a sense of stability and connection through surfing and community-based recovery programs. In late April, I sat with their team in Istanbul as they convened NGO leaders, funders, and communications specialists to discuss their long-term strategy.

What began as a grassroots initiative responding to the immediate aftermath of disaster had evolved into an organization actively shaping its future and contributing to the broader recovery landscape. TPF was Hatay Surf Center‘s first institutional funder. Today, the organization engages a much broader network of supporters and collaborators. Their journey reflects a pattern we have seen repeatedly across the region: local organizations growing in confidence, expanding their networks, and increasingly leading the next phase of recovery themselves.

That evolution rarely happens overnight. It emerges through years of learning, adaptation, relationship-building, and investment in local leadership. Over time, those relationships created the trust needed to see needs, opportunities, and challenges that might otherwise have gone unnoticed. Recovery is not static. As needs evolve, effective support requires ongoing learning, flexibility, and close engagement with communities themselves.

One example of this evolution involves young people. In the early months following the earthquakes, much attention was understandably focused on meeting urgent humanitarian needs. Yet as recovery progressed, many partners began highlighting a different concern: the long-term impact of displacement, uncertainty, and limited opportunities on adolescents and young adults.

These challenges were not always visible in traditional recovery frameworks, but they emerged consistently through conversations with local organizations. Buradayız Hatay, a local-led initiative established after the earthquake, is one example of how communities responded. What began as a local effort has grown into a platform that attracts support from multiple institutions and creates opportunities for young people to participate in shaping their communities’ future.

Similar patterns emerged across many organizations. As local groups strengthened their operations, communications, and organizational capacity, they became better positioned to attract new partnerships and resources. Organizations that were once focused primarily on immediate response increasingly began engaging in long-term planning, pursuing larger opportunities, and contributing knowledge drawn from their own experiences.

This points to an important reality about disaster recovery: some of the most significant outcomes emerge gradually. They are found in stronger institutions, deeper community trust, expanded collaboration, and local leadership that continues long after the initial emergency has passed.

What we are witnessing in Türkiye is not simply recovery from a single event. Communities are navigating the long-term effects of disaster while also responding to economic uncertainty, climate-related risks, and other overlapping challenges. In this environment, flexibility, continuity, and local knowledge become increasingly important.

Building the Recovery Ecosystem

One of the less visible effects of long-term recovery is the gradual emergence of a broader ecosystem of relationships around local organizations. As organizations strengthen, new opportunities for collaboration, learning, and support begin to emerge.

Over the past three years, many of our partners have had opportunities to connect with international funders, participate in joint field visits, share their work with broader audiences, and engage directly with peers and practitioners from outside the region through TPF’s efforts. Some of these connections were facilitated through introductions, convenings, and partnerships that brought local organizations into wider philanthropic networks. Others emerged because organizations themselves had grown in capacity, visibility, and confidence, becoming better positioned to attract new supporters and pursue opportunities independently. More often than not, it was a combination of both.

This evolution was visible across many of our partnerships. As organizations strengthened their communications, refined their strategies, and expanded their operational capacity, they became better equipped to tell their own stories and articulate their vision for the future. New funders took notice. Partnerships expanded. Organizations that once focused primarily on delivering immediate relief increasingly found themselves shaping longer-term conversations about recovery and resilience.

Some of the most meaningful moments emerged through these exchanges. Colleagues from the Center for Disaster Philanthropy visited the region to engage directly with local organizations and understand their work firsthand. GlobalGiving helped bring international attention to the experiences and insights of our partners. These opportunities were not simply about fundraising; they were about creating pathways for local organizations to be seen, heard, and recognized as leaders in their own right.

What emerged was more than a collection of grants or projects. It was a growing network of relationships, trust, and shared learning. Organizations that had spent years responding to extraordinary challenges found themselves increasingly connected to a wider community of supporters, practitioners, and funders. In many cases, these relationships outlasted individual grants and opened doors to new forms of collaboration.

Recovery ecosystems do not emerge automatically. They are built through relationships, trust, shared learning, and investments that help local organizations become visible, connected, and equipped to engage with a broader community of supporters. When this happens, recovery becomes more than rebuilding what was lost; it becomes the foundation for stronger, more resilient communities capable of navigating what comes next.

Organizations that were once viewed primarily as recipients of assistance are increasingly recognized as sources of expertise and insight. Their experiences offer valuable lessons not only for Türkiye but for disaster recovery efforts around the world.

Disaster recovery is often discussed in terms of reconstruction, funding, and infrastructure. These are critical components of the process. Yet recovery is also about people, institutions, and the systems that allow communities to adapt and move forward.

Three years after the earthquakes, the most important lesson may be this: recovery is ultimately shaped by the people and institutions that remain long after the emergency phase has passed. When local organizations have the resources, relationships, and confidence to lead, recovery becomes more than a return to what existed before. It becomes an opportunity to build something stronger.

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Through the Ecological and Psychosocial Resilience & Green Entrepreneurship Program, implemented by Yuvam Dünya Association with support from Turkish Philanthropy Funds, over 256 young people and women from Hatay, Adana, and Kahramanmaraş came together in two phases—first to reconnect with themselves, then to take action.

In the early weeks, psychologist-led sessions focused on breathwork, mindfulness, ecotherapy walks, and emotional awareness created spaces of safety and softness. Participants began to regulate stress, rebuild focus, and restore a sense of agency. Trust formed. Community emerged.

From there, the Green Entrepreneurship phase focused on regenerative thinking, circular economies, and nature-based innovation through hands-on workshops and mentorship. By the end, 16 early-stage business ideas had emerged.

This program represents more than its participants. It reflects a growing sense of possibility.  Resilience isn’t built alone. And hope doesn’t come from grand declarations—it grows from small, honest, and shared steps forward.

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As YÖRET listened closely to practitioners across Hatay, a clear pattern emerged. What they needed was not just more tools but space: space to pause, to reflect, and to be human again. The program was designed to provide exactly that: a long-term capacity-building program for 30 psychosocial support providers working in post-earthquake Hatay. 

One of the first and most impactful activities was a residential workshop in Arsuz, designed specifically for long-time field workers. The location was intentional: no containers, no construction zones, no reminders of rubble—just the sea, open sky, and space to rest. For many, it was the first time since the earthquake that they had slept through the night without interruption. 

The days were gently structured—self-care workshops, body-awareness practices, and peer reflection sessions. Evenings brought simple comforts: shared meals, film nights, and long walks along the water.  Beyond rest, the workshop created space for guided supervision where participants could discuss complex, emotionally demanding cases in a safe and structured way. These sessions didn’t just offer professional guidance—they helped providers untangle emotional burdens they had carried alone for months. Peer learning and reflection reduced the quiet weight of isolation and reminded practitioners that their experiences—and their pain—were shared. At the heart of the program was a renewed commitment to self-care. Through body-awareness exercises, group activities, and simple daily routines, participants were encouraged to reconnect with their own well-being—not as a luxury, but as a professional necessity. In general, the program had both immediate and measurable impact. Providers reported increased confidence, improved coordination, and stronger ethical practice. They spoke about shifts in mindset and practice. For many, the greatest change was internal. 

By refilling the buckets of those on the frontlines, this program strengthened the entire psychosocial support system in Hatay. It ensured that care could continue, not through burnout and sacrifice, but through resilience, professionalism, and shared responsibility. 

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Over the past three years, I’ve made regular visits to the earthquake-affected regions of Turkiye. These trips, conversations with families, long walks through provisional settlements, and hours spent with local partners have revealed a deeper, often overlooked truth about recovery.

What happens after survival?

In the early days, there was urgency. Needs were immediate and visible—shelter, food, clean water. Communities formed makeshift kitchens, grief etched on every face. But once the dust begins to settle, quieter questions emerge. The questions are no longer about survival, but about how to live. 

As one resident in Hatay told me quietly, “We survived the earthquake, but we don’t yet know how we’re supposed to live now.”

That sentence has stayed with me. It reveals what disaster experts often call the “recovery gap”—the uncertain space between surviving and truly living again. The emergency may be over, but the path forward is still unclear. Rubble is cleared, but people remain in limbo—unsure where they will live, how long they’ll wait, or what comes next. The displacement is not just physical; it’s emotional, social, and deeply personal.

If left unaddressed, this gap can harden into long-term instability. When recovery efforts are short-term or disconnected from people’s lived realities, a temporary crisis risks becoming a permanent condition.

Building Forward: A Broader Understanding of Recovery

At Turkish Philanthropy Funds, we came to understand early on that recovery cannot begin and end with emergency aid. It’s a long continuum that must evolve alongside the communities. Closing the recovery gap requires more than rebuilding structures; it requires rebuilding meaning, connection, and opportunity. That’s why, early on, we made a strategic decision to define recovery more broadly.

This is what we call Building Forward.

But what does that mean in practice?

For us, Building Forward is rooted in equity and local leadership. It means creating the conditions that make healing and agency possible—especially for those most affected, and too often excluded, from traditional systems. This includes support for women’s cooperatives, youth-led art spaces, psychosocial support services, and inclusive economic programs, and community hubs where people can gather again.

This work is slow and relational, unfolding in the spaces of daily life—classrooms, kitchens, sports fields, and community centers. 

Recovery is not linear and needs to shift over time. That is why our approach is built on sustained partnership—regular dialogue, frequent site visits, and shared reflection throughout implementation. By remaining present and listening closely as realities evolve, we are able to adapt alongside our partners, offering flexibility so programs remain responsive and deeply grounded in community life. Impact, in this context, is not only about delivery; it is about attentiveness.

Where Recovery Truly Happens

In many ways, the most delicate phase of recovery begins now. Immediate relief efforts have wound down, and physical needs are largely met. Yet, beneath the surface, the emotional and social fabric remains fragile. This is where the heart of community-led recovery lies: in supporting people to reclaim everyday life with agency, connection, and dignity.

Every initiative we support at TPF—whether it’s a mental health program, a youth-led art project, or a women’s cooperative—is guided by one question we return to again and again: Does this help people feel more safe, seen, and supported in their everyday lives?

One evening in Hatay, we gathered at the Teachers’ Solidarity Hub—a space created and run by our partner, Teachers Network, with support from TPF and the Center for Disaster Philanthropy. The room was full of energy and quiet resilience as local teachers, members of the Teachers Network team, and colleagues from CDP joined us. Over tea and long conversations, we listened to stories not just about education, but about grief, strength, and rebuilding. 

One teacher told me,  “I had nowhere to cry alone, so I couldn’t cry.” 

Another said simply,  “Being here renews my spirit.”

Especially for teachers who came to the region through mandatory placements, this space became more than a professional network.  It became a place of emotional safety. Emotional safety is not a luxury, but a foundation from which they can support their students. It is the opportunity to feel useful, to belong, to rebuild identity and relationships in a place that still feels like home.

For many of these people, the question is no longer “what did we lose?” but “who are we now?” as they are rebuilding who they are, what they hope for, and how they belong.

In Samandağ, we saw something similar through the girls’ soccer team at the Samandağ Sports Club. On the surface, it was a sports initiative. In reality, it was a reclamation of space and confidence, and imagining a life beyond survival. 

As one of the young girls put it,  “Playing football isn’t just about sports, but about being free.” Freedom, in this context, meant imagining a life beyond survival.

Rebuilding Identity Through Work and Community
Recovery is often categorized into economic or emotional support. But in practice, the two are inseparable.

Take, for instance, the women of the Rimmen Women’s Cooperative. On one visit, we sat together in their modest workshop—a small but vibrant space filled with the hum of sewing machines, the scent of spices from jars of homemade preserves, and the quiet pride that filled the room. They showed us their work: colorful textiles, carefully labeled jars, handmade crafts.

But what they spoke of most was not the income. They spoke of friendship. Of structure returning to their days. Of laughter.  It was the pride of creating something meaningful, of being together, of being seen. As one woman put it, “After the cooperative was founded, I forgot my pain. I turned my grief into creation. Now, I have a purpose again.” 

In another neighborhood, we met Gülhan—a mother of four, caring full-time for her visually impaired and chronically ill husband. Her family was at the edge of collapse. With support from our local partner ESYAD, she received both psychosocial support and something simple yet transformative: a sewing machine. It allowed her to earn income without leaving home. 

For Gülhan, recovery meant turning the space of caregiving into a space of creation and confidence.

These stories reveal a truth we have witnessed across more than ninety local partnerships over the past three years: recovery is not divided into categories. It is all about rebuilding meaning—helping people feel useful, connected, and seen, in environments they call home.

The Long Arc of Recovery

There will always be another crisis. But whether communities emerge more fragile or more resilient depends on what we choose to invest in now.

If we truly want to “build forward better,” we must center healing, belonging, and community in everything we support. Recovery is not a technical checklist. It is a deeply human journey shaped by quiet resilience, trust, and the courage to imagine a future that doesn’t replicate the past, but reshapes it. 

I’ve seen this journey unfold in small, powerful ways. One woman we met through Mavi Kalem’s economic development project captured this spirit with striking clarity: 

“I thought I’d never be able to stand again. But I did—because I had to. Starting a business was just an excuse. What mattered was standing back up.”

Community-led recovery is shaped not by blueprints. It unfolds in classrooms, workshops, kitchens, and sports fields. It is shaped by acts of courage and care.

And it is there, quietly, persistently, that long-term recovery truly begins.

Explore TPF Earthquake Fund

For these teachers, it wasn’t just about lessons. It was about building trust, offering stability, and helping children feel safe again. Many faced exhaustion, limited resources, and homesickness—but they kept going.

That’s where KODA’s Post-Disaster Rural Education Support Program made a difference. Through mentoring, workshops, and practical guidance, teachers gained the tools and confidence to connect with students, manage challenges, and create classrooms full of empathy and encouragement.

Today, these teachers are not just educators -they are mentors, guides, and sources of hope. And their students are thriving, learning, and discovering resilience every day.

We’re proud to stand with KODA, supporting teachers and communities as they rebuild hope, learning, and connection. Thank you for your support of the TPF Earthquake Fund. Together, we continue to build forward.

A tablet is more than just a source of entertainment. Sometimes, it’s an educational tool that helps strengthen a child’s brain development. Sometimes, it’s music that gently stimulates and calms. And sometimes, it’s simply a much-needed distraction amid the rubble – something to hold onto after losing a favorite toy in the chaos.

With support from the TPF Earthquake Fund, the Tohum Autism Foundation has reached 2,000 children, helping strengthen their mental and emotional well-being, as well as that of their families.

Each tablet might be only 12 inches long, but the impact goes farther than we could all imagine. Thank you for giving them a new source of comfort and a new routine as they rebuild their lives