International Wtf Day
How it feels to blow the candles out on IWD
This performative annual bullshit routinely finds me furious. Cupcakes and coffee while we politely discuss genocide in couched careful terms? Overpriced brunch in sunny AC while the world dies around us? Pretty empty speeches that change absolutely nothing from politicians committed only to re-election as femicide and domestic violence stats continue to rachet unchecked as we lose rights, respect and equality.
What exactly are we trilling about today?
Violence against women remains entrenched. In war, where it is utilised as a brutal weapon, and at peace. Whether richer or poorer. No better only so much worse. At home from men who refuse their own learning curve and at work forever. The gender pay gap, published to howls of outrage in Australia that were quickly silenced again, remains staggeringly unfair. All while the sisterhood and mother wounds - or patriarchy in drag - continues to prevent women from banding together to protect ourselves and each other.
Performative feminism is dead, like most all of the old world tenets. While we continue with nimble fingers to try and unpick centuries of our own brutal occupation, the cracks between us and them widen by design. Even if you posted a black and white photo across the world from Turkey to show vanity solidarity that cost you nothing. Even when your howling outrage about Ukraine could not be extended to Syrian or Palestinian or indigenous women worldwide. Even if your will is there but your voice still catches in your throat in fear.
Speaking out is risky business, it always was. Foreverever it has seen women hung, drawn and quartered. Burnt at the stake on a pyre of lies. Paraded naked to be shamed by those in glass houses hurling rocks and aiming low. Threatened and harassed, intimidated and maligned. Social media is misogyny's modern playground and nothing has changed. We are still being banned for our longing for a new way through this brutal minefield.
When good men do nothing, the status bro is perpetuated. When good women say nothing, they are complicit no matter how you spin it. When all of us stand for nothing, the awful old world prevails.
Words c. Kerrie Basha, 2025