I don't think I've ever been aware of this day, or if I have, it has pretty much passed me by. So the fact that it has been marked for a century and is still judged relevant is a bit of a sad indictment on the western societies that are doing so.
Social media is awash with mentions of inspirational women, of pioneers, of women who were great and good, and also of mothers, wives, sisters and friends, teachers (in schools and Sunday schools) missionaries and so forth. Activist groups are asking for signatures on this or that petition, charities for money to suport women's aid programmes.
Last week I had the privilege of conducting a funeral service for a very elderly woman who had spent ten years serving as a misisonary in what it is now Bangladesh. As I read the material provided from the archives of the Missionary Society she served, I found myself wondering what became of the women and girls whose lives she touched. Some she taught to read and write, with others she shared her faith with in rallies and other acts of worship. I am sure there were, and maybe still are, people who look back and recall with affection this woman who affirmed their worth and encouraged their flourishing.
I could list the names of the women (and men) who have inspired and encouraged me in my own life-journey thus far. Some, for sure, are the great and the good, the women whose stories I heard or read and was inspired to emulate. But more, most, the ordinary everyday women whose names will never be in the history books but who, as well as holding up half the sky, are central, and essential, to the ongoing story of humankind.
It would be lovely to think that, in a century from now, someone might stumble across a mention of International Women's Day and think 'how quaint' before discovering the reality that in 2016 there is still one heck of a way to go, especially in the two-thirds world (if that's not too archaic a term) where most women won't even know that today has any significance and will be grateful just to get to the end of it...