YoIt's strange to hear men in the news talk about the Epstein files. They are quietly somber, shaking their heads with murmurs of “oh yeah, horrible, isn't it?” Then, in the next breath, it's all clinical professionalism, talking about the wider political implications and how this has put Keir Starmer in a dangerous position.
It's not like that with the women in my life, not even the broadcasters, for that matter. They are horrified, amazed, horrified. Above all, they are furious. Incandescent with rage. For them, the victim of this unfolding horror story is not Starmer. And it is certainly not the monarchy, which can now claim to stand with the victims but was previously glacially slow to say or do anything, even after Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor's interview with Emily Maitlis about a car crash sent shockwaves around the world in 2019.
With each new sickening atrocity that comes to light, you can almost feel the fury radiating from the women: palpable, throbbing. This is not a political history for us. It's a deeply personal one. We see a story, not of entitled men being removed from power, but of powerless and nameless women and girls who are routinely abused, assaulted and raped: bought, sold and used as playthings by men so rich that they truly believed themselves to be untouchable. And for good reason: Lawmakers reviewing unredacted materials in Epstein's files say Justice Department redactions have obscured potentially important names. Furthermore, they have stated that some of these redactions may have been politically motivated, rather than a legal requirement.
The curtain has truly fallen, but the women are left slumping in shock as so many modern-day Wizards of Oz continue to operate with impunity. Even though they haven't technically committed any crime, we can finally see how these so-called masters of the universe talk and think about us when we're not around.
As Helen Rumbelow poignantly writes in The times: “The feeling of clicking through Epstein's files is like turning your back on the world clock. We see behind the grand façade often put up by the men who run the planet, in government, academia, royalty and business, from presidents to Andrew, the former prince.
“We see the contrast between their public distancing and their private contacts. But we also see their daily exchanges turning the gears of the world, oiled by pornography-saturated hatred of women.”
This news is No news for most women: everything is tremendously predictable. But now it is impossible to ignore it; The Epstein dossiers are a visceral reminder, thrown in our faces, of the misogyny that continues to simmer just beneath the surface of the polished, “civilized” front.
Lest we forget, convicted sex offender Harvey Weinstein once attended a women's march before his heinous crimes were finally fully exposed. How many other prominent men hide behind empty platitudes about victims, when in reality they have barely given them a thought?
The current collective anger at seeing women treated more like objects than human beings, and the deep and lasting damage repeatedly inflicted on the most vulnerable, has become almost unbearable. However, it also has echoes of other turning points where we have witnessed pronounced cultural shifts.
The #MeToo movement gained global momentum in 2017, for example; That same year, widespread marches were held in opposition to Donald Trump's inauguration as president after his infamous “grab them by the pussy” comments were released into the public sphere. Most recently, there was national outcry over the rape and murder of Sarah Everard at the hands of police officer Wayne Couzens in 2021. Protests quickly followed, an uprising of women demanding the right to feel safe while moving on with their lives, and an end to violence. They stood up and said, even shouting, enough is enough.
But it wasn't enough, was it? Abuse didn't stop in the entertainment industry thanks to #MeToo, nor were abusers kicked out of the Metropolitan Police. And that latent frustration over the speed of change – or lack thereof – is adding fuel to the current rise in temperature. Stunned by seemingly relentless accounts of callous cruelty and sexual violence against women, we have reached boiling point. But what to do with all that burning anger? Where to put it?
History has shown us at least one potential response when women reach a critical mass of DGAF (Don't Give AF***) anger and energy: we could all just go on strike. Next month, will there really be anything to celebrate on International Women's Day? Wouldn't it be more sensible to change the name to International Strike Day?
Listen to me. In fact, it has been done before, and to great effect, especially in Iceland (of course was Iceland), where, on October 24, 1975, women staged a day-long national strike. The goal was to demonstrate the indispensable work of women in keeping the economy and, let's face it, the entire country, afloat, and to protest wage discrepancies and unfair labor practices.
Suddenly it's impossible to ignore, a visceral reminder of the misogyny that continues to simmer just beneath the surface.
At the time, women in paid employment earned less than 60 percent of what their male counterparts earned. And that's why they demanded something better by retaining the most valuable of resources: their work. This was both paid and unpaid; On what became known as Women's Day Off, participants not only failed to show up for work, but also refused to do any domestic work. Without cooking. No cleaning. No childcare. For 24 hours, women simply abandoned their responsibilities and the country came to a standstill.
Fish factories, along with banks and some shops, had to close because their workforce was overwhelmingly female. Employers purchased coloring materials and candy in advance to prepare for parents to take their children to work during the day. Perhaps the funniest side effect was that supermarkets were sold out of sausages, the only thing many men apparently knew how to cook. It is no coincidence that the day was also known as “Long Friday.” One can only imagine how long the hours must have been for the male population, who suddenly found themselves in charge of preparing dinner and caring for their own children.
An impressive 90 percent of Iceland's female population participated, even in rural areas. The results were quick and impressive: Iceland's parliament passed a law guaranteeing equal rights the following year. Four years later, Vigdís Finnbogadóttir became the world's first democratically elected female president. The legacy lives on: Iceland has ranked first in the World Economic Forum's annual Global Gender Gap Index, which comprehensively assesses countries' gender equality, for 16 consecutive years.
Icelandic women have not held on to that coveted crown by resting on their laurels. At first every 10 years, and then more frequently, women stopped working early on the anniversary of the big day off. In 2023, they went one step further and organized a second day of strike. This time, they were protesting not only the continuing gender pay gap but also violence against women. It culminated in a massive demonstration in Reykjavik, involving around 100,000 people, one of whom was the then Prime Minister of Iceland, Katrín Jakobsdóttir. The laudable goal of achieving “full gender equality” by 2030 was set.
But this kind of organized action is not limited to progressive Nordics. Last year, historian Emily Callaci published the book Wages for houseworkdetailing the radical, anti-capitalist feminist movement started in the early 1970s, which called for all women's unpaid work and care work to be recognized and, crucially, paid. It was created by the International Feminist Collective, co-founded by Mariarosa Dalla Costa, Silvia Federici and Selma James, with demands first expressed in Manchester at the third National Women's Liberation Conference in 1972. They later drew inspiration from Iceland's Day Off with its motto: “When women stop, everything stops.”
Contemporary movements have emerged from these roots; James, now 95 but showing no signs of slowing down, has been the international coordinator of the Global Women's Strike since 2000. That first year, this movement that sought to value the work of all women – and the lives of all women – orchestrated widespread actions and demonstrations in 60 countries. They still organize today, often planning collective actions such as marches on March 8 to coincide with International Women's Day.
I'm saying it: this year, maybe we should all join them. This year, perhaps it is time to channel this present anger and simply put down the tools for the day. This year, maybe we need to hit the patriarchy in the only place where it really hurts: its pockets.
If hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, In fact She has no fury like a woman who has seen many of her sisters oppressed, attacked and raped by the most atrocious, putrid and evil of men. Who is with me?
