Women's Rights

Marches on 115th anniversary of IWD place focus on issues like US-Israeli war on Iran and Donald Trump’s links with sex offender Jeffrey Epstein.

Thousands of demonstrators have taken to the streets around the world to mark International Women’s Day, taking a stand on a number of issues including the US-Israeli war on Iran and gender-based violence.

In Spain, where the government drew the ire of the United States for refusing to allow it to use Spain’s military bases for strikes against Iran, thousands of women took to the streets of major cities to call for an end to the war.

“It is within our power to stop the war, to stop the barbarity, and to win rights,” said Yolanda Diaz, Spain’s second deputy prime minister. “We proclaim ourselves in defence of peace, in defence of the Iranian people, in defence of Iranian women.”

On the first day of the joint US-Israeli war on Iran, strikes on a primary school in the city of Minab killed 165 girls, most between the ages of seven and 12, during class hours – the deadliest single attack on civilians so far.

In France, where more than 150 demonstrations were held, 73-year-old rape survivor Gisele Pelicot led a march calling for an end to sexual violence, telling a crowd in Paris, “We won’t give up”.

Pelicot became a global symbol in the fight against sexual violence after she waived her right to anonymity during the 2024 trial of her ex-husband and dozens of strangers who raped her while she was unconscious.

Across the Atlantic, activists gathered at Zorro Ranch in the US town of Albuquerque, New Mexico, where the late convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein is alleged to have sexually abused and trafficked underage girls and young women.

“The years-long cover-up and protection of Jeffrey Epstein’s allies and co-conspirators exposed a culture of impunity that tells survivors their pain is negotiable when powerful men are involved,” said Rachel O’Leary Carmona, executive director of Women’s March.

In New York, protesters gathered outside Trump Tower for a “Believe Survivors” demonstration after this week’s publication of FBI documents by the US Justice Department describing interviews with a woman who alleged President Donald Trump sexually assaulted her when she was a minor.

In Puyo, an Amazonian town in Ecuador, members of various Indigenous groups gathered to raise their voices about the degradation of the environment, and oil and gas expansion. “We want to live in a healthy environment and in harmony with the forest, so we are asking for respect and that public policies for nature are put in place,” said Ruth Penafiel, 59, from the Kichwa community in the northern Amazon.

In Brazil, Sunday’s marches channeled outrage over the alleged gang rape of a 17-year-old girl in Rio de Janeiro’s Copacabana neighbourhood in January. The case gained national attention this week when four suspects handed themselves over to authorities.

In Pakistan’s capital, Islamabad, police briefly detained several women’s rights activists attempting to hold a rally in defiance of a government ban on public gatherings imposed amid a surge in militant violence in the country. Aurat March, a network of women’s rights activists, condemned the crackdown, saying participants had been peacefully exercising their right to protest.

Women’s rights activists shouted slogans during a protest in Istanbul, Turkiye. In China and Russia, vendors sold flowers wrapped in pink. And in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, local workers lifted fists and umbrellas as they celebrated.

International Women’s Day, officially recognised by the United Nations in 1977, marks its 115th anniversary this year.

Aimee Zambrano is a Venezuelan anthropologist, researcher, and consultant who has made significant contributions to the struggle against gender-based violence in the country. She is currently pursuing a master’s degree in Women’s Studies. She is the founder of the Utopix Femicide Monitor, a platform that collects data on femicides from open sources. In this interview, Zambrano sheds light on the main challenges to advance a feminist agenda in Venezuela.

How has gender-based violence evolved in Venezuela in recent years?

It is difficult to answer precisely because there are no official figures. The former Attorney General, Tarek William Saab, presented some figures, but he did not break them down; rather, he spoke in general terms about a period during his tenure. So it is very difficult to assess what changes have occurred, especially in quantitative terms. 

We undertake a partial registry based on cases that appear in the media, so these are not official figures. But it is enough to see patterns emerging. We have been monitoring since 2019 and saw an increase in femicides in 2020 due to the lockdown caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, which also led to an increase in all types of gender-based violence, not only in Venezuela but in most countries around the world. In 2019, when we began monitoring, we recorded 167 femicides, then in 2020 we recorded 256. In 2021, there was a decrease and we counted 239 cases. In 2022 and 2023, there were 240 and 201, respectively. In 2024, we recorded 188 femicides, and for 2025, we estimate that the figure will be around 165.

There has been a decrease in the number of perpetrated femicides. However, when we look at other forms of violence, such as attempted femicides, we are seeing an increase compared to previous years. This is a warning sign because these are attempts to murder women that leave physical, psychological, and social consequences on both the survivor and her environment. We have also seen an increase in femicides of Venezuelan women abroad year after year. We are also witnessing a large number of cases of sexual abuse, especially child sexual abuse and trafficking, both abroad and in our country. Similarly, here in Venezuela, the disappearance of women is not classified as a type of gender-based violence, but according to various investigations we have carried out, disappearance or abduction, in the specific case of women, girls, and teenagers, is directly related to gender-based violence, and many of these disappearances are associated with femicides where the bodies are hidden, or cases of gender-based violence where the aggressors end up confining the victim. At the same time, we have seen a large number of cases of vicarious violence, where the aggressor inflicts violence on children, family members, or even pets.

So, a decrease in the number of femicides does not mean that other forms of violence are not on the rise. It is also important to talk about political violence. In the context of the July 2024 presidential elections, two femicides occurred and we saw threats against many community leaders by right-wing groups, who persecuted and harassed them. The same goes for media violence, social media, and artificial intelligence. In fact, there need to be changes in the laws so that these new forms of violence can be punished.

How does the lack of official and updated figures from the Venezuelan government affect the implementation of effective public policies to combat gender-based violence?

It has a huge impact. It’s not that there are no figures, but that they are not public. In fact, several public programs such as the Mamá Rosa Plan for Gender Equality and Equity, the various homeland plans, and even the Organic Law on Women’s Right to a Life Free of Violence, mandate that the state must create an observatory for gender-based violence. 

The absence of data means that we cannot measure the efficacy of the public policies that are being enacted. Statistics could also allow organizations to develop proposals, not only legislative ones, but also from women’s groups, which must also participate in the elaboration of these policies.

It is often said that the deterioration of living conditions in Venezuela disproportionately affects women, but what does this mean in practice? Does it also impact the number of femicides?

Yes. We were affected by the rentier culture, the crisis, and economic sanctions. It has been a multifactorial phenomenon. The rentier culture did not change, public policies depended on oil revenues, and a series of US-led unilateral coercive measures were imposed on us that affected all aspects of life. In crises, it is always women’s bodies that pay the price. Currently, we have to work four or five jobs, usually informal ones, to make ends meet. For those of us with children, it is even worse, because we also have the burden of unpaid work in the home. The same is true for the care of the elderly or people with disabilities, which always falls on our shoulders. 

In Venezuela, the vast majority of heads of households are women, who are either alone or part of extended families of women living together and raising children. In addition to this, women are the ones who make up a large part of the social fabric, they are grassroots leaders. At the same time, the country is experiencing a crisis in services, electricity, water, and gas, which further increases the burden of care work. Women have to figure out how to get water for cooking, washing, and bathing their children, how to cope when there is no electricity, or how to cook without gas, especially in the interior of the country, where public services are in a more dire state. 

Does this have an impact on the number of femicides? It does. Violent, aggressive men find themselves in the midst of an economic crisis, where there is unemployment or underpaid work, they become increasingly frustrated, and where do they take out all this frustration? On women, their partners, their families, their homes. It would be interesting to see if GDP figures or periods of high inflation correlate with peaks in femicides. 

With the US attacks on January 3, we saw the kidnapping of Cilia Flores and also the rise to power of the first female president, albeit in an acting capacity, Delcy Rodríguez. How can this be interpreted from a feminist perspective?

The bombing of Venezuela was a flagrant violation of international law, but we also saw how National Assembly Deputy Cilia Flores appeared during the arraignment hearing in New York with bruises on her face and body. Her attorney requested medical attention, which indicates that during the operation she was the victim of violence by the US military. This, of course, is indicative of what foreign powers do when they bomb and invade other countries, especially in the Global South, where they do so to extract natural resources. 

Talking with friends, I have realized that many of us feel violated, as women, by everything that has happened. Now the acting president, Delcy Rodríguez, has a very difficult task: to take the reins of the state with a gun to her head. It takes a lot of courage to face this. In addition, after the bombing, Trump’s threat to her was very direct: do what I want or you will be worse off than Maduro. It is difficult to take on that role and have the responsibility of preventing more lives from being lost. 

In the current context, what are Venezuela’s main challenges in terms of the feminist agenda? You have suggested, for example, the need to create a structural feminist emergency plan. What would that look like?

The first thing is to define what that feminist agenda is, because in Venezuela there are different grassroots movements and organizations with different political stances, and polarization sometimes makes it very difficult to unify the points. Sometimes we try, but the efforts can get fragmented again due to specific political events. I would say that there is the issue of gender violence and also the decriminalization of abortion in Venezuela, as common ground that unifies many of us. We also demand a justice system that has a gender and feminist perspective because the current one is built from an androcentric, patriarchal perspective; that is, it is a justice system created by men and for men. An amnesty law is currently being implemented, so this has to be included in it. 

By a feminist emergency structural plan, we mean that the Ministry for Women and Gender Equality should not be the only institution responsible for public policies relating to women and the LGBTIQ+ population. It should rather involve the entire state. I am not saying anything new because this already appears in the Organic Law on Women’s Right to a Life Free of Violence and also in the Mamá Rosa plan, which was supposed to culminate in 2019, but almost nothing that was stipulated ended up being implemented. All ministries, all affiliated entities, all state institutions, including governors’ and mayors’ offices, must address gender issues, and a robust budget is needed for this. For example, the Ministry of Communication must run ongoing campaigns in the media and on social networks about the different forms of violence and the telephone hotlines and websites where incidents can be reported. The Ministry of Housing must focus on creating shelters for victims. The Ministry of Education must review the curriculum to include gender studies, comprehensive sexuality education, and different types of violence, as well as implement protocols for care in schools, high schools, and universities. In addition, all state officials have a duty to educate themselves on the issue.

How do you assess the retreat of the state in certain areas and the growing “NGOization” leveraged by Western funding?

It’s complex because initiatives, activities, marches, etc., require resources, and many of our organizations don’t have them. In addition, there is another factor at play here, which is the proliferation of religious groups, especially Pentecostal evangelicals, who have grown significantly in Venezuela, have a presence within the state and within political parties, and are also very wealthy, which allows them to carry out campaigns, mobilizations, etc. Feminist movements face many obstacles because most of us also have to work several jobs and take care of our homes and communities. So it is difficult to keep up with evangelical and conservative right-wing groups. 

I think we need to identify who the enemies are, who targets our rights, and then assess the contradictions and coordinate women’s and feminist movements. I make the distinction because there are women’s organizations that do not necessarily identify as feminist. But we have to grow, see what issues unite us, and begin a series of actions. I always make this call: despite our political differences, let’s try to unite around an agenda that unites us all.

How does social media influence the proliferation of violence, and gender violence in particular?

I believe that violence has always been present, but now it is exposed because some forms of violence that we used to consider normal or common have been explained or denormalized. In addition, social media and the internet allow us all to learn about different cases in different parts of the world. But, on the other hand, we have the issue of anonymity and lack of accountability, meaning that people can say outrageous things, threaten, insult, and commit violence facilitated by technology. Social media also allows virtual groups to come together to commit violence, and there are also certain influencers on Instagram, YouTube, and TikTok spreading crazy ideas. Guys like El Temach in Mexico, who speak to you from their machismo, what some call “toxic masculinity” but I call “the healthy descendant of patriarchy.” 

There is also another point here: the algorithm. For example, a teenager starts searching for content about exercise, and soon after, the algorithm will introduce them to these influencers, thus creating mass communities such as incels, which organize themselves through forums like Reddit. This also breaks down the entire social fabric of face-to-face interactions, and people end up isolated but believing they are “accompanied on social media.” All of this leads to disorders such as anxiety and depression. In addition, teenage girls and women become caught up in the aspirational idea of having a certain type of body, aesthetic violence, etc. In short, I’m not saying this from a moralistic point of view, but social networks have encouraged a lot of violence. Besides, who owns these networks? What ideology do they profess? What are they using them for? We have to investigate so we can arm ourselves and fight this battle.

The killing of prominent Iraqi women’s rights activist Yanar Mohammed has fuelled an outpouring of grief and calls for justice, with advocates from around the world remembering Mohammed as a “courageous” voice.

Mohammed, 66, was killed earlier this week after unidentified gunmen on a motorcycle opened fire outside her home in the north of Iraq’s capital, Baghdad.

“Despite being rushed to the hospital and attempts to save her life, she succumbed to her wounds,” the Organisation of Women’s Freedom in Iraq, a group that Mohammed co-founded, said in a statement shared on social media.

“We at the Organisation for Women’s Freedom in Iraq condemn in the strongest terms this cowardly terrorist crime, which we consider a direct attack on the feminist struggle and the values of freedom and equality.”

Several international rights groups also condemned Mohammed’s killing, with Amnesty International on Wednesday decrying the deadly attack as “brutal” and “a calculated assault to stifle human rights defenders, especially those defending women’s rights”.

The organisation, which said Iraq’s Prime Minister Mohammed Shia al‑Sudani ordered an investigation into the killing, also called on the Iraqi authorities to ensure the perpetrators are brought to justice.

“Yanar Mohammed … dedicated her life to defending women’s rights,” Amnesty’s Iraq researcher, Razaw Salihy, said in a statement. “The Iraqi authorities must stop this pattern of targeted attacks in their tracks, and take seriously the sustained smear campaigns designed to discredit and endanger activists.”

Mohammed was one of Iraq’s most prominent women’s rights activists, working since the early 2000s “to protect women facing gender-based violence, including domestic abuse, trafficking, and so-called ‘honour killings’”, Front Line Defenders said.

Her work included the establishment of safe houses, which sheltered hundreds of women experiencing exploitation and abuse.

In a 2022 interview with Al Jazeera, Mohammed described her organisation’s efforts to support Iraqi women who survived violence at the hands of ISIS (ISIL), which had seized control of large swathes of the country.

“Muslim-Arab women who were enslaved by ISIL and have not found a place to go back to, they are still living in the shadows of the society,” she said at the time.

“Not less than 10,000 women were the victims of ISIL attack[s], and this femicide is not really acknowledged by the international community or dealt with in a way that keeps the dignity or the respect [of], or compensates, those who were the victims.”

Years of threats

Mohammed had been the target of death threats for decades, “aimed at dissuading her from defending women’s rights”, Front Line Defenders said. “Yet she remained defiant in the face of threats from ISIS and other armed groups.”

In 2016, she was awarded the Rafto Prize “for her tireless work for women’s rights in Iraq under extremely challenging conditions”.

The Rafto Foundation, the Norway-based nonprofit group that administers the award, said it was “deeply shaken” by her killing. “We are deeply shocked by this brutal attack on one of the most courageous human rights defenders of our time,” the foundation said in a statement.

“The assassination represents not only an attack on Yanar Mohammed as a person, but also on the fundamental values she dedicated her life to defending: women’s freedom, democracy, and universal human rights.”

Other activists and human rights groups also paid tribute to Mohammed this week, with Human Rights Watch describing her as “one of Iraq’s most courageous advocates for women’s rights” for more than two decades.

“Yanar was a dear colleague and friend to so many of us in the women’s rights and feminist community, one of our icons. She spent her life standing up for women’s rights in the most dangerous environment,” said Agnes Callamard, secretary-general of Amnesty International.

“She faced constant threats, but she never stopped. And today we cry and mourn her energy, her commitment, her profound humanity, her amazing courage.”

As court documents tied to the late financier Jeffrey Epstein continue to surface, the scandal has become an international embarrassment, exposing how quickly powerful men can turn into reputational liabilities. That discomfort reached New Delhi, where Microsoft cofounder Bill Gates was expected to deliver the keynote address at the AI Impact Summit but ultimately did not attend amid criticism and apparent unease within the Modi government over his past meetings with Epstein. The spectacle was revealing. Public moral outrage travels swiftly when scandal threatens reputations and diplomatic optics. Yet that sensitivity to association sits uneasily beside a domestic reality in which sexual violence against women unfolds with brutal regularity, drawing neither comparable embarrassment nor consequence. The contrast is grotesque. A political culture capable of signalling discomfort towards a global scandal remains strikingly untroubled by the everyday brutality faced by women at home.

Under the Modi administration, the news cycle churns with reports of gang rapes like factory output — steady, relentless, and numbing in repetition. The rapes have become so common that they are reported like the weather. Heatwave deaths. Flash flood. Five-year-old abducted, raped, murdered. And like the weather, only God is responsible. Not the rapist. Not the court. Not the police. Definitely not the prime minister.

Between the time this piece was commissioned and published, a five-year-old was gang-raped in Meerut, a 26-year-old was gang-raped in Faridabad, and a 17-year-old was gang-raped in Odisha. A 42-year-old was gang-raped in Delhi’s suburbs. A 12-year-old girl was kidnapped and gang-raped in Bikaner. There were more gang rapes in Bihar, Chhattisgarh, Rajasthan, and Kanpur. I could give you statistics, but numbers could never convey the larger, all-encompassing terror of living with predators. The threat of sexual violence is as constant as gravity. The cases are gruesome — intestines pulled out, rods inserted, tongues cut out, acid thrown, decapitation, strangulation, and burning. When I look at government data about rape — an average of 86 women are raped every day — it feels as grisly as stumbling upon a mass grave in Excel sheets.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his home minister, Amit Shah, ostensibly obsessed with restoring law and order at any cost, seem entirely unconcerned that India is the gang rape capital of the world on their watch.

The most alarming instance of this was when convicted rapist and Bharatiya Janata Party politician Kuldeep Singh Sengar, found guilty of raping a minor in 2017 and a native of Makhi village in Unnao district of Uttar Pradesh, was granted bail by a high court, raising the possibility of his reintegration into the very social and political landscape that had once enabled his impunity. A high court granted him bail in December. Thankfully, it was stayed by the Supreme Court, but only after infuriated women gathered in Delhi to protest. Sengar had raped a teenager, who was also gang-raped by his associates. Her father was murdered in police custody. A case was registered only after she threatened to burn herself in front of the chief minister’s residence. Her tragic story showcases how Indian men, like the Modi administration, remain remarkably unembarrassed about the state of affairs.

Sadly, this is not an aberration; it is the system speaking in its mother tongue.

Public memory matters because each new case unfolds against the residue of the ones we were told would change everything. In 2012, I read about the “Nirbhaya” gang rape three days after the incident, on my way from the airport. I had been deliberately avoiding the news until she ended up at Safdarjung Hospital, and my editor needed a health update from me. After I learned all the details of what men had done to this young woman, I thought the world would stand still. A threshold had been crossed. Something told me the world would start anew. There were protests, and people everywhere would know her name, and something like this would never happen again.

All of my naivety was drowned in a chorus of “Not All Men”, as the gang rape was turned into something viral to hang a hashtag on. The refrain did not defend innocence so much as redirect attention away from accountability and back towards male comfort.

It is impossible for me to hear of such cases and not think: What if it were me? My body. That rod. Those men. The suffering and mutilation of women’s bodies is so reliable that there is now a market to help ease our fear. Security apps. Pepper sprays and wearable panic alarms. Every time I write about this subject, I sit with the absolute inadequacy of the written word in the face of men who film the rapes, brag about them, and get rehabilitated nevertheless.

It wouldn’t be out of place to call this moment unprecedented, but it is beyond that. It is existential. Whether it is the United States or India, women are watching the same choreography of power protecting itself, as men of consequence close ranks and wait out the storm. The similarity lies not in scale or context, but in the recurring spectacle of institutions cushioning powerful men while survivors fight alone. For a while now, both countries — allegedly the biggest and the oldest democracies — have been on a trajectory of self-destruction, with men leading the way. Under Modi as well as Trump, rape has become an extension of politics. Women are violated no longer by men alone, but by courts, hospitals, and newsrooms, too. It is the age of monsters. It did not begin with Epstein, Gates, or Sengar, of course, but they are the symbols of it.

While the middle class was busy buying into the dream of upward mobility, careerism, and two bedrooms in a gated suburb, we let thugs cultivate a wholesale misogynist empire that runs on hate for women. I do not know what to do with the rage I feel. What do you do when you are constantly told that your body, your people, your gender are disposable? I don’t know.

What I do know is that the teenager who survived Sengar is still fighting for justice. I know that the survivors of Epstein’s sex trafficking network are fighting for justice, too. These women are fighting with heart and soul and sweat and muscle. I know that I have no right to be despondent while they stand tall, looking every inch the hero they are. I also know that nobody puts up a fight like that unless you love your sisters.

At this dark hour, it feels important to place on record that as the Modi administration recoils theatrically from the shadow of the Epstein scandal at the summit stage, the satire writes itself. A government that cannot, or will not, protect its women should be far more ashamed of what is ordinary than of what is scandalous.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.