Dr Daisy Parihar
daisy.parihar@gmail.com
Every year on International Women’s Day, the world dresses itself in celebration. Social media timelines overflow with praise. Institutions organize empowerment seminars. Leaders deliver speeches filled with promises. We celebrate her as Shakti, as Janani, as the creator, the nurturer, the strength behind every success story. We call her powerful. We call her resilient. We call her equal.
But beneath the applause, beneath the flowers and hashtags, a burning question rises,are we celebrating her enough, or are we failing her every day?
If women are truly the embodiments of strength, why are they still fighting for basic safety? If we worship goddesses in temples, why do we fail to protect girls in our homes, schools, and streets? If we claim she stands parallel to man, why does she still walk with fear stitched into her daily routine?
Celebration has become easy. Accountability remains difficult.
On Women’s Day, we highlight achievements. We speak about women in defense, science, politics, business, literature, and sports. We applaud those who have broken ceilings and shattered stereotypes. We proudly say, “Look how far she has come.”
But how far has she truly come if she still carries fear in her handbag? How far has she come if she has to constantly share her location when traveling alone? How far has she come if her character is questioned faster than the crime committed against her?
The contradiction is painful. We glorify symbolic femininity, but we hesitate to confront real injustice. We celebrate success stories, but we often ignore silent suffering.
A small girl steps into the world with dreams in her eyes. She trusts easily. She laughs freely. But in one horrifying moment, when a predator crushes her innocence, the world changes for her forever. Her childhood fractures. Her confidence trembles. Her future dims under trauma she never chose. And society, instead of protecting her, sometimes interrogates her circumstances.
Why was she there?
Why was she alone?
Why were the parents not careful?
Why do we question the victim more than the criminal? Why do predators often act without fear of swift consequence? If fear of law does not exist, then what message does that send?
We light candles. We march in silence. We raise slogans demanding justice. Streets glow with grief after every horrific incident. But why must tragedy be the trigger for awareness? Why is outrage temporary while trauma is permanent?
Justice delayed is not only justice denied; it is trust destroyed. Every time a case drags on endlessly, faith in the system weakens. Every time punishment feels uncertain, another criminal gathers courage.
And what about dowry, the silent violence hidden behind decorated wedding halls? How many daughters have been harassed, tortured, burned, or pushed to despair because they were seen as financial transactions instead of human beings? We speak of modernity, yet negotiations for marriage often resemble business deals. We praise education, yet a woman’s worth is still weighed by gifts, property, and status.
Can we stand before a mirror and honestly say we respect women while dowry continues to claim lives? Can we truly celebrate her while treating her existence as a burden to be paid off?
A working woman steps into her office determined to prove herself. She works twice as hard, speaks carefully, and balances ambition with expectation. She returns home to unpaid labor waiting silently, kitchen, children, responsibilities that society still assumes are hers alone. She is expected to excel professionally and domestically without complaint.
When she speaks firmly, she is labeled aggressive. When she remains quiet, she is dismissed as weak. When she chooses a career, she is selfish. When she chooses family, she lacks ambition. The standards shift constantly, but the scrutiny remains fixed.
We claim equality in words, yet inequality survives in practice.
A man can step out at midnight without second thought. A woman calculates every step. Is the road safe? Is the cab driver trustworthy? Should she call someone to stay on the line? Should she change her clothes to avoid attention? This is not freedom; it is survival disguised as routine.
Why, in an age of technological advancement and legal frameworks, are women still asking for safety? Why do parents still feel anxiety when their daughters return home late? Why are self-defense classes more common for girls than respect lessons for boys?
The culture of blame deepens the wound. Instead of uniting against injustice, society often shifts responsibility onto the victim. “She should have been careful.” “She should not have trusted.” “She should not have gone out.”
Why must her life shrink to accommodate potential violence? Why not expand accountability instead?
Real celebration does not lie in speeches or symbolic gestures. Real celebration lies in transformation. It lies in a justice system that acts swiftly and decisively. It lies in zero tolerance for dowry and domestic abuse. It lies in workplaces where merit speaks louder than gender. It lies in homes where sons are taught empathy and accountability as strongly as daughters are taught caution.
If Women’s Day is meaningful, it should be a day of introspection rather than decoration. It should compel us to ask uncomfortable questions. What has changed since last year? Are girls safer today than they were yesterday? Are cases resolved faster? Are laws implemented more strictly?
Empowerment cannot survive as a hashtag. Respect cannot remain ritualistic. Equality cannot remain theoretical.
A society that truly honors women does not wait for tragedy to react. It builds systems that prevent tragedy. It creates an environment where a woman’s safety is guaranteed, not negotiated. It ensures that when she reports injustice, she is heard immediately and believed sincerely.
Anger is not wrong. Anger is necessary when injustice becomes routine. Silence has protected wrongdoers for too long. But anger must evolve into reform. It must push policy, reshape culture, and strengthen institutions.
Men are not opponents in this struggle; they are essential allies. Women’s rights do not diminish men’s dignity, they elevate humanity as a whole. When women feel safe, societies prosper. When women are empowered, economies grow. When women are respected, families thrive.
So yes, celebrate her achievements. Celebrate her resilience. Celebrate her victories step by step,the graduation, the first job, the leadership role, the barrier broken, the dream achieved.
But do not ignore her struggles running parallel, the harassment endured silently, the dowry pressure suffocating dreams, the violence hidden behind closed doors, the fear that shadows her freedom.
The image before us tells the truth. On one side stands her rise, education, success, ambition, triumph. On the other hand stands her struggle, fear, abuse, injustice, and unanswered cries for protection. Both realities coexist. Both are real.
Until the struggle side fades and the victory side becomes a universal reality, our celebration remains incomplete.
So we return to the question that refuses to fade:
Are we celebrating her enough… or failing her every day?
Until a woman can walk freely without fear, until dowry becomes history rather than headline, until predators fear law more than victims fear society, until justice is swift and unquestionable, our celebration must remain restless.
Women’s Day should not be a comfort. It should be conscience. It should not be applause. It should be accountability. It should not be a single day of praise, but a daily commitment to change.
Only then will celebration replace contradiction. Only then will Shakti not need protection from demons disguised as men. Only then will we truly deserve to celebrate her, not for surviving injustice, but for living in a world that finally does her justice.
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