8M.

Published on Saturday 8th, March, 2025

I have been surrounded by strong women all my life. We all are. We always have been.

And yet—too many men have failed to see them, to hear them, to honor them.
Some through ignorance. Others through entitlement.
And far too many because the world taught them it was never their responsibility to care.

Women who have fought, bled, and burned for a world that was never built for them—
not now, not ever, not since the beginning of time.
Women who have been silenced, dismissed, underestimated—and yet, they never stopped speaking, never stopped fighting, never stopped rising.

They have been told to be quiet.
They have been told to be small.
They have been told to be careful.

And still—they are here.

They have carried the weight of others while being told they were weak.
They have nurtured without thanks, resisted without recognition, built without permission.
They have been told no, and they have answered by refusing to bow.

They have bent—but they have never broken.
They have shattered—but they have always rebuilt.

They have turned pain into power.
They have fought for what is right, even when it wasn’t easy.
They have carried the weight of love and responsibility, never once letting it slip.
They have broken barriers that were never meant to hold them.
They have pushed forward when the world told them to stop.
They have refused to be anything less than themselves.
They have given and given and given—never asking for anything in return.

For the Camila’s, Daniela’s, Tabatha’s, Laura’s, Nicole’s, Romina’s, Andrea’s, Macarena’s, Martina’s, Lillian’s.
For the Amparo’s, Alicia’s and Sara’s—the daughters who deserve a world better than the one before them.

For the women who came before.
For the women beside us.
For the women who will come after.

For every woman who has ever been told to be less—when she was always meant to be more.

They tried to silence them.
They tried to break them.
They tried to erase them.

And yet—here they stand.

Louder.
Stronger.
Unstoppable.

For all of them.
This is for you.
From the bottom of my heart.

For more than a century, women have had to endure the persistent—yet utterly idiotic—belief that they are weaker. That their gender, their so-called "physical limitations," somehow made them less capable, less independent, less worthy. That they were not up for the task—that their only role was to give birth, raise children, and serve the family.

Meanwhile, men were seen as the pillars of the household, given the almost god-given duty of providing, as if their strength was the only force holding a family together.

But we all know that couldn’t be further from the truth.

If we look at history—and we must, because history is crucial to understanding the meaning behind March 8th—we see that this day is not just about "making noise".

It is not about hating men (a weak and tired accusation and argument). It is not a cry for attention. It is not an exaggeration.

It is a movement. A fight against oppression, violence, inequality. It is a demand for justice, for dignity, for a world where power is not measured by gender but by humanity itself.

And yet, there are still those who dismiss it—who call it unnecessary, disruptive, radical. Those who cling to the old world, not because it is right, but because it keeps them in control.

But control built on injustice is nothing but a cage. And cages, eventually, break.

WHEN THE CAGE CRACKED

The cage cracked, not with whispers, but with footsteps—thousands of them, marching through the streets of New York on a cold March morning in 1908.

15,000 women, tired of breaking their backs in suffocating factories, demanded change. They asked not for favors, but for what should have always been theirs: fair pay, humane working hours, the right to decide their own future.

But power does not surrender easily. It never has. And so, for years, they fought. And when the world ignored their words, it listened to their screams.

In 1909, the first National Women’s Day was observed in the United States, marking the first step toward recognizing the struggle of working women. But recognition is not the same as change.

In 1910, at the International Socialist Congress in Copenhagen, Clara Zetkin proposed something bigger—a day for women, worldwide. A day for their voices to be heard.

But why did it need a special day?

Why did women have to beg the world to acknowledge them, to recognize their worth, to give them even a single day—when men had the whole of history without ever having to ask?

Her proposal was met with agreement, but history does not change with words alone. It took fire. Protest. War. Revolution.

In 1911, fire consumed the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory in New York, killing 146 women—most of them young immigrants. They had been locked inside, their lives deemed disposable in the name of profit. Suddenly, the fight these women started in 1908 could no longer be ignored.

But why?

Why did it take a tragedy, a fire, and the deaths of 146 women for the world to start paying attention?

Why is it that women must first suffer—must first die—before their voices are heard?

Why is their dignity, their labor, their existence always questioned, always negotiated, always treated as something that must be earned rather than something that should have been given freely from the start?

It wasn’t just about wages anymore. It was about survival. About justice. About proving that they were never weak—they had simply been silenced.

In 1917, in the middle of World War I, thousands of Russian women took to the streets on March 8, demanding "bread and peace."

What started as a protest for basic rights ignited a revolution, forcing the Tsar to step down and granting Russian women the right to vote—one of the first major victories of the movement.

Momentum grew. Women across Europe, Asia, and the Americas took to the streets, demanding rights that men had been born into without question.

Yet, decades passed, and the world still resisted.

It wasn’t until 1975 that the United Nations officially recognized March 8 as International Women’s Day. It was supposed to be a symbol of progress, a sign that the world had finally started listening.

But listening is not the same as changing.

And so, we must ask again:

Why does the world resist equality so violently?

Why does it insist that a woman’s worth is something to be measured, debated, and determined by anyone other than herself?

Why do we still live in a world where men’s rights are considered fundamental, but women’s rights are called radical?

Even with the marches, the protests, the voices that refused to be silenced, women are still being paid less.
Still being forced into roles they never chose.
Still facing violence for simply existing.

THE ILLUSION OF PROGRESS

Enough with the fairy tales. Enough with the comfortable lies.

For every person who dares to say, "But things are better now," for every voice that mocks this fight as if it were an exaggeration, for every man who rolls his eyes and mutters, "What more do they want?"—this is for you.

Because this is not a matter of opinion. This is not up for debate. These are facts. Cold. Brutal. Unforgiving.

Women are still being paid less.
Women are still being killed more.
Women are still treated as a liability in health systems, as a financial burden, as something weaker, lesser, disposable.

You want numbers and facts? Here they are.

The Persistent Gender Pay Gap

Globally, women are still earning less than men for the same work.

In Norway, a nation often hailed for its gender equality, men earned an average of 13% more than women between 2015 and 2022. Even when accounting for the same job, experience, and qualifications, women still earned 6% less than their male counterparts.
In Australia, women earn only 78 cents for every dollar earned by men and face slower promotion rates. They also receive fewer incentives like superannuation, overtime, and bonuses, contributing significantly to the pay gap.
In the European Union, the gender pay gap stood at 12.7% in 2021, reflecting a persistent disparity across the continent.
In the United States, women earned 79–83% of what men earned on average, year after year.
According to the Global Gender Gap Report 2023, it will take exactly 131 years for the gender gap to close at the current rate of progress.

This is not because they "choose lower-paying jobs." It is not because they “work less.” It is because the system was never designed for them to rise equally.

Healthcare is Not Equal Either

Women pay more, receive less, and are taken less seriously—all because the system was never built for them.

Women Are Charged More for Healthcare—Simply Because They Can Give Birth.

In Chile, women pay significantly higher health insurance costs simply because they are of childbearing age, making them a so-called "financial risk" to the system.
Across the world, women are forced to bear the financial burden of reproductive healthcare, while men’s medical needs are seen as a given, not a liability.

Women's Pain Is Systematically Dismissed.

Women are less likely to be given pain medication than men. Their symptoms are often ignored, minimized, or misdiagnosed—especially for conditions like heart attacks and autoimmune diseases.
Women experiencing heart attacks are 33% more likely to be misdiagnosed compared to men.
Autoimmune disorders—which disproportionately affect women—often require multiple doctors and years before receiving a correct diagnosis.

Medical Research Was Never Designed for Women.

For decades, medical trials only studied male subjects, assuming that results would apply to women as well. They don’t.
This lack of female representation in medical research means that many drugs, treatments, and diagnostic methods are still less effective or even dangerous for women.

Pregnancy and Childbirth Are Still Incredibly Dangerous—Especially for Women of Color.

In the United States, 700 women die annually from pregnancy-related complications.
Black and Indigenous women are 2 to 3 times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than white women. For women over 30, the gap is even wider.
Many of these deaths are preventable—but women's symptoms are too often ignored, dismissed, or assumed to be “exaggerated.”

Even CPR Training Favors Men.

Most CPR training manikins lack female anatomical features, leading to hesitation in performing CPR on women during emergencies.
This training gap has real consequences—women experiencing cardiac arrest in public are less likely to receive bystander CPR and, therefore, more likely to die.

The System Is Not Broken. It Was Built This Way.

Women’s health has never been the priority. It has been an afterthought, a burden, a liability.
The result? A system that still favors men, leaving women to fight for treatment, for fairness, and sometimes, for their lives.

The Ongoing Tragedy of Femicide

How much more evidence do you need? How many more bodies will it take?

In 2023, an average of 140 women and girls were killed every day by intimate partners or family members, totaling 51,100 deaths for the year.
Africa recorded the highest number of these killings, followed by the Americas and Oceania.
In the United Kingdom, as of August 2024, 50 women had been killed where a man was charged with their murder, highlighting a persistent and grim toll.
Over the past 15 years, nearly one in 10 women killed by men were murdered by their sons, often involving older women over the age of 70.
Every 10 minutes, a woman is killed by a partner or family member somewhere in the world.

For many women, home is not a sanctuary. It is a graveyard waiting to happen.

THE ILLUSION OF ADVANCEMENT

We have laws now. We have days of recognition.

And yet, what has really changed?

Women still walk home at night with keys clenched between their fingers.
Women still are questioned about what they were wearing when they were assaulted.
Women still fight for salaries that men are handed without a second thought.
Women still are forced into roles they never chose.

This is not progress.

This is stagnation disguised as change.

And if you still think this fight is unnecessary, then you are part of the problem.

Because again, power does not surrender easily.

But what if it could?

What if, instead of pretending change has happened, we forced it to happen?

What if governments and institutions weren’t just pressured to acknowledge inequality, but were forced to rewrite the structures that uphold it?

Because the truth is, laws exist, but they are not enough. Policies exist, but they are hollow without enforcement.

They say the fight is over. That progress has been made. That women should be grateful for how far we’ve come.

But tell me—what does “progress” mean when women still fear for their lives just for existing?

What does it mean when a man’s promotion is based on his ambition, but a woman’s is questioned if she has children?

What does it mean when laws exist, but justice still favors the abuser?

What does it mean when women are still fighting for a seat at the table, while men have never questioned why the table was built for them in the first place?

“Progress” is not enough. It never was.

Because a woman should not have to be "grateful" for the bare minimum.

She should not have to say “thank you” for the right to work, to lead, to live without fear.

She should not have to keep fighting for what men have always been given without question.

So, what still needs to change?

Some changes in demand

PAY HER WHAT SHE DESERVES.

Laws mean nothing without enforcement. Companies must be forced to disclose salary data, eliminate pay gaps, and penalize those who refuse.
Salary brackets by position, not by gender. Pay should be transparent, fair, and untouchable by bias.

PROTECT HER BODY, HER CHOICES, HER RIGHTS.

End the financial discrimination in healthcare. A woman should not have to pay more simply because she is capable of creating life.
Enforce reproductive rights. No government, no law, no man should have control over her body but her.
End medical bias against women. Women’s pain must be taken seriously. Women’s symptoms must be investigated.

STOP THE KILLING. STOP THE SILENCE.

Femicide is a global emergency. Women are still being murdered every day by those closest to them—partners, fathers, brothers.
Harsher sentencing for femicides. This is not just “domestic violence.” This is a war on women’s lives.
End victim-blaming in the legal system. Stop asking, “What was she wearing?” and start asking, “Why did he think he had the right?”

FOR EVERY WOMAN, FOR MY DAUGHTER

The illusion of advancement is convenient.

It allows those in power to pretend that the fight is over.

It allows men who have never felt unsafe walking home at night to believe that women’s fears are exaggerated.

It allows companies to continue paying women less, under the excuse that “things are already better than before.”

It allows courts to blame a woman for her own assault, as if the clothes she wore held more guilt than the man who violated her.

It allows excuses to become policies, and policies to become weapons of silence.

But at least me, I refuse to be silent–and you should too.

I refuse to raise my daughter in a world that teaches her to fear, before it teaches her to dream.

I want my daughter to grow up in a world where her worth is never measured by the length of her skirt, the softness of her voice, or the shape of her body.

I want my daughter to be judged for her brilliance, her strength, and her choices— not for how “likable” she is to men.

I want my daughter to have the same opportunities as any man—not because a law forces it, but because it was always her right.

I want my daughter to be able to walk home at night without gripping her keys between her fingers.

I want my daughter to be able to say ‘no’ without fearing for her life.

I want my daughter to be able to go to a party, have a drink, and exist in public without being treated like an open invitation.

I want my daughter to succeed because of her merit, her capability, her effort— not because she was “the diversity hire.”

I want my daughter to never have to hear the words:
"What were you wearing?"
"Were you alone?"
"Did you lead him on?"
"Boys will be boys."

And I want men—all men—to start asking themselves different questions:

"Why have I never feared for my safety the way women do?"
"Why do I assume a woman’s anger is irrational, but a man’s is justified?"
"Why do I feel entitled to an opinion on a woman’s body, her choices, her rights?"
"Why is it women who are told to be careful, instead of men being told to be better?"

Because if you are a man reading this, and you think this fight has nothing to do with you—you are part of the problem.

Because silence is complicity.

Because ignoring injustice does not make it go away.

And that is why the fight never ended—because it cannot end.

And it won’t end until the scales are balanced, until justice is not a debate, but a guarantee.

And until that day comes—everyone must fight.