MARCH 8TH

Today is a wonderful day—a celebration of spring, International Women’s Day, a day of feminine beauty and tenderness. This day brought a number of reflections to my mind.

I often feel the urge to move away from the established name “Women’s Day.” Just as with February 23rd, I do not like the idea of assigning special meaning to a single day. I would prefer that all women in the world feel beautiful, happy, and fulfilled every day—that they are loved and protected, and that life’s difficulties do not shake their inner balance, even for a moment.

Every woman should remember that she carries within her a vast resource of lightness and inner strength. She is here for joy, wisdom, and light.
 

For the same reason, I do not want there to be a “Men’s Day” either—where, for one day in February, some men suddenly remember they are protectors, only to return afterward to indifference and routine withdrawal.

More and more often, March 8th is being renamed “Spring Holiday,” and that feels gentle and right. The history of this day is complex and heavy, even though it brought meaningful change. And when one focuses only on historical facts, the lightness of spring can feel slightly diminished.
 

International Women’s Day began as a day of solidarity in the struggle for women’s rights and emancipation. It was preceded by the National Women’s Day in the United States in 1909, commemorating the 1908 strike of female textile workers in New York, who demanded better working conditions.

Later came the Copenhagen socialist movement, and eventually Clara Zetkin proposed the idea of fighting for universal women’s suffrage. The proposal was unanimously accepted, and by 1914, International Women’s Day was observed on March 8 in Austria, Hungary, Germany, the Netherlands, Russia, the United States, Switzerland, and other countries.
 

As a result, by 1917, women in New Zealand, Australia, Norway, Denmark, and Iceland had gained full or partial voting rights. This is undoubtedly important—but these events do not necessarily evoke a sense of lightness or inner happiness.

That is why, when women are increasingly congratulated on “Spring Day,” it feels as though they are gently awakening from a long inner sleep, opening their beautiful eyes, and allowing their hearts to unfold in kindness.

That is why I support the idea of a Spring Holiday. I sincerely believe that there are no unattractive, unworthy, or unfortunate women. There are only those who have forgotten this truth.

I want to remind you—and keep reminding you: dear women, you were born for joy and lightness. You were created to receive beauty and wisdom, to be gentle and magical. You were created for happiness.

And this happiness, you extraordinary women, generously give to the world through your very presence. In that, if you wish, lies your greatness. Within you lives immense potential—to create, to nurture, to inspire, and to give.
 

Each of you deserves happiness, joy, flowers, love, and ease. Yet many, for different reasons, lose that inner light and remember it only on days such as this.

So I wish for each of you to choose your own source of strength, your fullness, and your inner joy.

These tulips were the first flowers my husband and I gave to our daughter for the holiday. Because of her young age, she does not fully understand its meaning (for her, the most important part is not going to kindergarten—although she loves it there because her friends are there). But she did remember the name: Spring Holiday.
 

The evening before, she asked me, “Mom, if tomorrow is the spring holiday, then where are the real flowers? It’s snowing outside.” Sometimes children’s questions leave adults speechless, and we are not sure how to answer in a way that truly explains everything. Five minutes of telling her that the snow would soon melt did not convince her.

So in the morning, a bouquet of tulips appeared on her drawing desk.
 

When she woke up and saw them, she lit up with joy: “So these are the flowers! Real flowers! Then it really is spring—I can feel it right here, where my heart is!”

From that moment on, she asked no more questions about the snow that had not yet melted. Whenever she came home from a walk, she would immediately peek into the room, look at the flowers, and smile. She knew spring had arrived.

I truly wish that all women in the world could feel the magic of fresh flowers at home the way little children do—even when there is still snow outside and a snowman has just been built. I wish they would be filled with that feeling, remember it, and never forget it.