Wow.
I can hear you whispering it to yourself after reading that title. I’m sure many of you will be thinking something far less kind…and I get it. You’re tired of hearing women talk about how bad things are, even when a lot of people are making a real effort to make those things better. I get it because I’m tired too. We all are.
Every year, when March rolls around, I get this rumbling in my stomach. It’s the same feeling I get before an event I really don’t want to go to; except this event’s location is the world and the agenda for the night is my life.
“Please, take our IWD goody bag” I get told at the door of the multinational bank, law firm, hospital, university that’s been burned so hard by the Gender Pay Gap App Twitter account this week, it’s gone fully off-socials. And yes, I want to scream because I can’t figure out when wearing a green and purple sticker became an adequate replacement for paying women the same as men; or not harassing them at work; or voting for politicians who stand for bodily autonomy; or standing up to your own friends when they make a sexist comment and act like it’s okay because it was ‘just a joke’.
I’ve been studying and working in the Gender Equality / DEI space since I was a teenager, so I understand better than most that every step forward an organisation or individual makes in that space is trapped in a web of bright, red tape. But I’m frustrated by the collective choice to pretend that we’re actually stepping anywhere, that we’ve not been stagnant for a long, long time.
Somewhere along the way of conflict and attempted change, too many people became comfortable with the tension the red tape held them in; the familiar boundaries it established.
We started working against the tape by covering it’s red with purple and green gender equality stickers, and branded tote bags with quirky boob designs, and never-ending rows of flowery lanyards holding invitations to talks about the same two topics hosted by the same two people. We forgot we were meant to cut the tape, not change it’s colour, but it isn’t surprising that we did.
As long as a significant number of people and organisations continue to think it’s somehow controversial -or worse, brave and remarkable- to muster a stance of empathy for half of the world’s population, we will fail to remember that survival was not the goal. It was life.
“Use our IWD discount code for 10% off with the word EMPOWER at checkout” I read on social media posts from clothing brands featuring the same rotation of white, skinny, 16 year-old models to promote the clothes women and children in Vietnamese sweatshops put together.
“Own your wrinkles.” Gets written in a fun script on an ad for skincare brands that make millions from sustaining women’s fear of their depleting value as they age. It’s represented by that celebrity who refuses to recognise feminist causes unless they offer a unique benefit to her.
Being a woman on International Women’s Day has to rank in the top 5 most bizarre experiences a human can have. All day you’re congratulated for something no one can really describe or name, and you get to sit there and watch the same structures that sustain your oppression rebrand themselves in the colours of the women who have literally laid down their lives to topple them. Everyone around you is content to share their admiration for the Frida Kahlo and Maya Angelou Barbie dolls that are now being sold to young girls, but God forbid you complain about the struggles facing Latin-American and Black women today- that is not in the celebratory spirit of the day!
“That sounds awful!” I hear from people in my life in the UK, when I tell them about the femicide crisis in Mexico, as they convince themselves that hidden suffering is better than the overt kind. And I want to scream.
I want to scream that it isn’t progress that literally all of my women friends have been emotionally or physically abused and none of us have even been alive for 30 years.
I want to scream that it isn’t progress when you post on LinkedIn about equality in the workplace one day out of the year, but say nothing when locker-room chat happens around you.
I want to scream that being better than the worst isn’t progress either. None of it is! And people continue to die around the world because they had the misfortune of being born a woman every single day. I want to scream my throat raw, but I can’t.
If I scream you won’t listen to me. You’ll find me overly emotional and illogical, you’ll dismiss the years of research, and degrees, and work I’ve dedicated to being an expert on this issue with a quick eye roll. So I’ll take the IWD sticker from you and smile.
“Thank you.” I say, when you congratulate me on International Women’s Day, and go back to ignoring us the day after.
Cover image: Hesitant Fiancee, Auguste Toulmouche’s 1866
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