If you aren’t outraged, you aren’t paying attention.
I have to admit—I had never really heard of International Women’s Day either. My initial reaction wasn’t great, but I started looking into it. It’s been around since 1909. Really? It was first celebrated in New York City, and the date later moved to March 8th when it was recognized more broadly. It’s been around for over 100 years and somehow never fully caught on here. Maybe it’s about time.
When I thought about it beyond that first reaction, I started to feel something closer to outrage. To everyone who made fun of the day or felt the need to post something snarky—have you ever stopped to consider why it exists?
In the United States, we still lag behind many developed countries in policies that support families. Paid maternity leave is limited. Paid paternal leave is not standard. Many women still earn less than men in similar roles. Representation in leadership and government positions remains uneven. And culturally, women are still often portrayed in narrow ways that shape expectations from a very young age.
Globally, the gaps are even more striking. Women make up half the population, yet hold a much smaller percentage of leadership roles. Many still face violence, limited access to education, and restrictions on basic freedoms. These realities are not abstract—they affect real people, every day.
So when people dismiss something like International Women’s Day, it makes me pause.
Why is this acceptable?
Why are these things normalized?
Some might say women make different choices—that they step away from careers, take fewer risks, or prioritize family. But why is that the structure we’ve accepted? Why does raising children—future members of society—come at such a high personal and financial cost?
Most families I know didn’t choose daycare because they preferred it. They chose it because they had to. To pay bills. To survive. And for those who stay home, there are tradeoffs too—financial, professional, long-term.
This isn’t just a personal issue. It’s a societal one.
You would think the federal government might set a stronger example. On paper, it often does. In practice, that hasn’t been my experience.
I’ve worked for the federal government for over two decades—active duty, reserve, and civilian. When I got pregnant in 2006 while in the military, I applied for what was described as a generous unpaid leave program. My situation was straightforward—we had no childcare support, and both my husband and I had schedules that made coverage nearly impossible.
It was denied.
No real explanation beyond “I was needed.”
I returned to work after six weeks. There was no place to pump, so I didn’t breastfeed. A coworker’s wife helped watch my son. People were shocked the request had been denied. It worked out—but it easily could have not.
A few years later, when it came time to reenlist, I wanted to stay in. I had strong performance reviews and had advanced quickly. We asked for a reasonable accommodation—one of us needed to be stationed somewhere that didn’t require overnight duty so we could care for our child.
It wasn’t considered.
I was told it was my turn for ship duty. End of discussion.
I left active duty.
Another motivated woman out of the workforce.
Years later, in my civilian role, I saw similar patterns. Flexible schedules, job sharing, alternative work arrangements—all things that exist on paper. In practice, they were rare.
After 22 years of consistent, high-level performance, I asked for an alternative schedule to manage burnout and maintain balance.
The answer was no.
No clear explanation. No real discussion. Just… no.
When I pushed for clarity, the response wasn’t transparency—it was subtle resistance. Enough to feel it, not enough to prove it.
Eventually, I left that role.
Another motivated employee gone.
This isn’t just about me. It’s about a pattern.
At some point, you start to ask—where is the accountability? Why don’t these issues feel more visible, more urgent?
Why aren’t we talking about them more openly?
Why aren’t we asking for better?
And beyond our own borders—why aren’t we paying more attention to the realities women face in other parts of the world?
This isn’t about comparison or competition. It’s about awareness.
Because inequality isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s quiet. Built into systems. Accepted over time.
So maybe International Women’s Day isn’t something to dismiss.
Maybe it’s simply a reminder.
To pause.
To notice.
To ask better questions.
To consider what still needs to change.
Because if we don’t, it’s very easy to assume everything is fine.
And often, it isn’t.
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