Women’s day celebration feels hollow when safety remains a dream

So far, every year, at least on International Women’s Day, we celebrate our women.

We highlight our female leaders, acknowledge their contributions, post hashtags about empowerment, and clap for resilience. NGOs and civil society organisations arrange panels on equality. Universities host seminars on women’s history and rights. Corporates leave inspiring messages on female employees’ desks. We do all of it. And no, this is not to say we should not do it. All of this is valid — even necessary.

But do we talk about the contradictions? The nuances? The darker realities?

Perhaps we do that too — but rarely enough to have a real impact.

How do we know?

Just open your social media, pick up a newspaper, or switch on the TV, and you don’t even have to look far: March 2026 alone offers headlines of assault, rape, murder — women, young girls — so brutal that the mind numbs in self-defence.

Yes, laws exist. Policies exist. Police exist too. But enforcement? Accountability? A woman’s right to be safe in public spaces? Still a far distant reality!

And this is where the contradiction lies: we celebrate a day devoted to women’s rights, justice, and action — while incidents of violence against women and girls continue to grow, year after year. And still, we do nothing. Yes, I say nothing because it often feels as though no one is truly doing anything. Because if they did, we would not have to keep seeing news of children and women being raped and then brutally murdered.

It is as if violence itself has become part of our social architecture, and we have learned to live inside it. We condemn it at most — but when it comes to dismantling it, we do nothing.

If so, then what exactly are we celebrating? We asked women the same question. Their answers, too, were less about celebration and more about survival.

“My close ones remain anxious these days until I get home,” said Nusrat, a 26-year-old marketing professional in Dhaka. “My office is quite far, so the commute itself feels like a long, anxious waiting game for everyone involved. This anxiety is even affecting my mother’s blood pressure. She keeps checking if I have reached safely. She scrolls through social media all day, sees all the horrific news headlines, and sends them to me. I don’t get to check it all during the day. But at the end of the day, when I get into a ride and read all of it, I can’t help but think… am I next?”

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Nusrat also shared a safety precaution she has learned to feel more at ease while navigating the city.

“I share my live location every time I get into a ride,” she said. “My parents insist on it. My friends insist on it. And honestly, I insist on it too. Because we all know the risks.”

Then there’s Rina, who lives outside the urban middle-class bubble. In her world, fears take more practical forms. Safety has become less of a right and more of a daily gamble.

“Women’s Day is something I hear about on TV, and sometimes our supervisors tell us to wear pink or purple if any buyer visit is scheduled on that day,” said Rina, a garment worker from Gazipur. “But after night shift, my only concern is reaching home safely. Even though it’s early morning, and even though my house is nearby, I keep checking who is around me and avoid shortcuts. Every honk, every shout, every gaze makes me flinch.”

Another young professional described it differently but with the same quiet frustration.

“On Women’s Day, I see everyone talk about our strength,” she said. “But if you ask me, I don’t want to be strong. I want to be safe without having to be strong. I believe it is high time we stopped clapping for how strong women are. The question everyone should be asking is why we still have to be strong and super cautious, just to survive.”

For university students, the contradiction is especially visible online.

“I see everyone posting about women’s empowerment on social media,” said Tasmia, a university student. “But on the same platforms, I see victim-blaming comments whenever a woman speaks about assaults. That contradiction is exhausting. To be empowered, I need to feel safe first, and to feel safe, let me address the issues I am facing without shaming me.”

For many women working in professional spaces, the challenges often extend beyond physical safety.

“Workplace celebration is nice,” said Raihana, who works in the development sector. “But real celebration would mean workplaces where we do not have to fight to be taken seriously. Where my harassment complaints would be handled seriously, not quietly dismissed.”

For others, celebration is simpler.

“Look, I don’t want to worry about my girls’ safety,” said Farzana, a mother of two. “Yes, celebrate, but I want to know that my daughters can be safe. At home. At work. On the street. Every day, not just on Women’s Day.”

Farzana’s demand is justified. It’s on us that we still couldn’t provide a safe society for our girls. All our progress has not yet managed to outrun fear — the fear of becoming the next victim of gruesome violence.

So, if our mothers are still worried about whether their daughters have reached home safely or not, if our women must still negotiate their basic safety just to live ordinary lives —

Then tell me again — what exactly are we celebrating?

Are we celebrating progress that exists on paper but still struggles to protect women on the streets? Or are we celebrating our women’s resilience because we have failed to guarantee protection?