©Pandeli, Istanbul 2025.

Of Women, Love, and Inheritance

March 8, 2026. Written by Nur Koç.

Every year on Women’s Day, a gentle melancholy settles in my heart, accompanied by a deep sense of gratitude. Yes, every day is women’s day. Yet there is something profoundly beautiful about having a moment when we collectively pause to reflect on the women around us. The women who fought endlessly for the rights we hold today. The women who continue to fight against the inequalities that still echo through our world. The women who inspire us, guide us, and ultimately shape who we become.

And here I am, sitting under the sun, allowing myself to pause and think of the women who stand at the very center of my life. The center of my heart. The center of the woman I am today. Women whose love and care continue to nourish me, quietly and endlessly.

My grandmother, Ansen.

A true Istanbul woman who, after marrying and having children, immigrated to Lebanon carrying a single suitcase and her two little kids. She arrived in a country where she did not know the language, the culture, or the people. She left behind the warmth of her family only to find herself in Beirut during the midst of civil war.

She was a woman who sacrificed her entire life for her family.

She followed the path laid out before her, following the footsteps of her husband not necessarily out of love, but because she had never been taught that she could choose otherwise. Much of her life was spent quietly searching for peace, happiness, and the love she had always longed for.

Yet she was also one of the funniest and most outgoing people I have ever known.

I have always admired people who live as their authentic selves, and she embodied that spirit so naturally. She spent every day thinking about the well-being of her children, and later about us, her grandchildren. She loved wandering through bazaars. She loved cooking for the people she loved. Her tables were always prepared with extraordinary care and elegance, adorned with delicate pieces she had carefully chosen from antique shops over the years.

She loved crowded tables, lively conversations, companionship, and long evenings filled with laughter.

She spent a lifetime raising her children, and then nurturing us, her grandchildren. And all she ever truly wished for in return was simple, that we would gather together around tables filled with joy.

For a long time, I carried a quiet frustration toward her. I wanted her to take charge of her life. I wanted her to move beyond the life she had been given and create the one she dreamed of.

She loved design. She had always dreamed of becoming an interior designer. She wished for a life filled with discovery, travel, and creativity. Instead, she remained in a marriage that was not necessarily cruel, but one that lacked the deep love she longed for. She spent much of her life searching for something that could fill the quiet emptiness of her heart.

Now I understand her story differently.

It was not that she did not fight for change. It was that she was already carrying so many burdens that the luxury of choosing another life was rarely within reach.

And yet when I think of her, my memories are filled only with warmth. With the immense heart she carried. The unconditional love she gave. The delicious meals she prepared with such generosity. The beautiful home she decorated so lovingly for herself and her family. The baskets filled with sweets she prepared for us on special days. The hilariously inappropriate jokes and stories she would tell for hours until we burst into uncontrollable laughter.

And always, her standing on the balcony, waving goodbye, throwing water behind us for good luck each time we left her home.

Her presence, even now, continues to feed my heart with love and joy.

For her, I live the full life she once dreamed of. I study, discover, travel, dance, laugh, love, and allow myself to be loved.

Then there is my mother, Yasemin.

A superwoman in my eyes, whose capacity for love I may only fully understand the day I become a mother myself.

My mother and I have always been inseparable. As a child, I slept beside her every night, my hands gently resting on her cheeks. Even now, living thousands of kilometers away, I feel her presence constantly. Both physically and emotionally, she walks beside me, quietly giving me strength with each passing day.

My mother has lived a life that reminds me of Barbie and her many careers. Since I have known her, she has worked in the fashion industry, in real estate, in an engineering field I never quite understood, as a translator, and within the health sector. She used the four languages she learned through living across different cultures, filling the gap left by not having had the opportunity to pursue a university degree with extraordinary determination and intelligence.

Everything she did was for us.

So that we could live better lives. So that we could receive the education she never had the chance to pursue. So that we could travel, experience the world, meet different cultures, and shape lives where we are the ones guiding our dreams and ambitions.

I will never be able to repay her. Not emotionally. Not financially. Not in any measure that could equal the sacrifices she made every day.

She worked tirelessly without ever expecting anything for herself. And whenever a small opportunity appeared, she turned it into a beautiful little adventure for the three of us.

Even today she reminds me constantly to live fully. She never says no. Instead she says travel more, experience more, spend more, enjoy more.

Her love has filled me so abundantly that my heart feels nourished for a lifetime.

Every effort I make to build a meaningful path in life carries within it the quiet hope that perhaps, one day, I can give her even a small part back of the world she gave us.

She raised two daughters. Two creators who chose lives in art. Two women who know who they are and what they are capable of. Two women who are not afraid to try and fail, because they know that their mother’s hands will always be there behind them in case they stumble.

And then there is my sister, Zeynep.

Raised by both my mother and my grandmother, she became not only my sister but my closest friend and soulmate.

Her presence in my life is almost impossible to describe. There is a kind of strength that comes simply from knowing that someone exists beside you in the world, even when they are far away.

She has always walked a few steps ahead of me, quietly clearing the path. And that, to me, is one of the greatest privileges.

She is my daily source of inspiration. A woman who moves through life with a clear gaze and firmly grounded feet. Someone who searched tirelessly for her place in the world, never giving up until she found it.

She is not afraid to ask for what she wants, and she works relentlessly to achieve it.

She never hesitates to express herself and never fails to lift me up when I find myself in moments of doubt. Sometimes with tenderness, sometimes with tough love, but always with love.

She is one of the main reasons I became the woman I am today. My passion for art. My appreciation for good food and good wine. My understanding of choosing wisely the people I allow into my life.

When she was my age, she climbed every step one by one. Opportunities were never handed to her easily. She built her path through dedication and persistence.

Today she runs her own production studio alongside two other powerful women. I see the passion and hard work reflected in everything they create, guided by taste, drive, and vision.

She sees the value in me when I sometimes cannot see it myself. And she never fails to remind me.

And then there is me.

Nur.

Raised by generations of strong, hardworking, loving women who allowed me to live a life rich with possibility.

I carry the curiosity of my grandmother, an adventurous soul that is never afraid to travel and discover. I carry the determination of my mother, a generous heart that thrives on creating opportunities, building connections, and sharing love with those I choose to bring into my life. And I carry the strength of my sister, a strength that sometimes even intimidates me in the most inspiring way.

Even when I stumble, I try not to fall. And when I do fall, I know how to accept it, rise again, and move forward.

These women filled me with so much love and care that I am never afraid of being alone.

My heart is fulfilled for a lifetime.

And in the quiet moments when I find myself alone, their presence gently reminds me that I am never truly lonely.