I look at the calendar and realize that this year March 8 is Sunday, and it's already 2026 outside. Sociologists are once again boringly reporting that the holiday is rapidly falling to the bottom of the popularity ratings in Ukraine. But I know for sure: on Saturday evening, flower prices will traditionally break through the ceiling. We seem to be terribly tired of this glossy hypocrisy, but still, by inertia, we watch men with identical rustling curls migrate through the city, Ukr.Media reports.
If Clara Zetkin suddenly rose from the dead and saw postcards with cats and wishes to “remain always gentle” on Viber, she would probably ask for her back. At the beginning of the twentieth century, women took to the streets of New York and Copenhagen not to get a condescending smile or a discount at the spa once a year. They fought for the right to vote, a decent salary and the opportunity not to die of exhaustion in the factory. It was a harsh, uncomfortable and very loud movement. No one thought about the holiday of spring.
By the way, about the volume. There is this incredibly persistent fable about the “march of the empty pots” in 1857. Supposedly, New York weavers took to the streets and staged a performance with kitchen utensils, demanding humane working conditions. It sounds very cinematic, but historians have long since given up: there were no pots. It’s just a beautiful fairy tale that we have been fed for decades. Apparently, so that even in protest, a woman would not break away from the image of a cook.
And then the Soviet Union happened, which pulled an absolutely brilliant trick. At first, women were strict comrades in the class struggle. But in 1965, the authorities made March 8 a day off. And that was it. The protest blew up like a cheap balloon. Instead of fighting for rights, they systematically imposed the status of “decoration of the collective”, the role of a tireless working mother, and handed over a sprig of mimosa that had fallen on the way from the trade union committee. Equality has supposedly been achieved, girls, now you can even cut salads while men toast your beauty.
Today, the world is having as much fun as it can with this date, and it's funny to watch in its own way. The Italians still carry around their yellow mimosa, and they also support the myth that on this day men are not allowed in restaurants because women go out alone. The French and Americans organize serious discussions about gender – boring, but to the point. In Berlin, they made a day off so that they could go to rallies in peace. The Chinese simply let married women leave work earlier, subtly hinting that girls without a stamp in their passports have no reason to be tired at all. Cuba is buzzing with festivals because Fidel once said that women were good guys during the revolution. In Uganda, they just dance.
But my absolute favorite is Madagascar. There, on March 8th, all men work. They seem to be the only ones who understand the concept in a way that makes sense to tired women.
And so you look at these frail tulips at the supermarket checkout and think how cleverly history has twisted the original idea. From a struggle for survival to a mandatory bouquet once a year. Maybe one day we will finally decide what exactly we celebrate on this day. For now, let's just get through this Sunday, keeping our common sense and a little self-irony.
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What does March 8 mean to you today: a day of struggle for rights or just an annual flower quest?
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💐 Give me my broom! 🇲🇬 Madagascar, I'm flying! 😴 Rest is more expensive than mimosa
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💐 Give me my broom! 0% 🇲🇬 Madagascar, I'm flying! 0% 😴 Vacation is more expensive than mimosas 0% 💡
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