Demand for equality, security, and freedom for women at the March 8 Demonstration

HRS members, joined London’s impactful Women’s March, advocating for education rights and highlighting global struggles against gender-based violence and injustice. Human Rights Solidarity (HRS) marked International Women’s Day on March 8 with its annual demonstration, joining forces with the Million Women Rise collective in London’s Great March. This year, the HRS Women’s Rights Committee spotlighted the critical issue of education access while amplifying the voices of women globally enduring violence and injustice particularly Afghan girls barred from schooling. Asiye Betul, a representative of the committee, delivered a stirring poetic address at Trafalgar Square, articulating the systemic oppression faced by women in regions worldwide.

Renowned as one of the largest and most impactful women’s rights gatherings globally, London’s annual march is a women-led initiative backed by diverse organizations and individuals nationwide. Participants from varied cultural, religious, racial, and socioeconomic backgrounds united to condemn gender-based violence and inequality. Chants, banners, and songs echoed calls for justice, weaving a tapestry of resistance and solidarity.

This year’s demonstration kicked off at Oxford Street, London’s bustling shopping hub, and culminated at Trafalgar Square. Thousands marched for two hours along the 3-kilometer route, blending drumbeats, slogans, and a festive yet resolute atmosphere. Protestors demanded safer public spaces free from harassment, homes liberated from violence, and workplaces grounded in equity and dignity.

The HRS Women’s Rights Committee contributed a striking visual protest to the march. A delegation of 20 members staged a symbolic act highlighting Afghanistan’s education ban and the universal right to learning. Volunteers carried a 120×60 cm chained book model emblazoned with “Education” and “Women’s Rights,” while others wore miniature chained books as pendants. Their chants advocating education as freedom resonated alongside messages of global solidarity against gender-based oppression.

At the Trafalgar Square rally, speakers shed light on struggles faced by women in conflict zones like Gaza, Sudan, Syria, Iran, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Representing HRS, Asiye Betul recited an original poem decrying injustices from Turkey to global fronts. In a powerful climax, the chains binding the oversized book model were shattered, unveiling a hidden proclamation: “Denying education is denying freedom” a bold reminder of liberation’s inseparable tie to knowledge.

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NOTE: Here is the poem written and read by Asiye Betul:

What does my liberation look like?
Does it look like your laws, your wars, your rules?
Does it look like my body dissected by your schools?
Does it wear my face, does it speak my name?
Or is it just another mask for more of the same?

You look at me,
The barbarian other, veiled in ignorance,
beneath your supremacy, Veiled beneath your pity,
Telling me I need saving, while your hands are busy
Writing rules for my oppression, and laws that push me,
Across your borders, across humanity.

But? Here in Britain, who cleans your homes? Who raises your child?
Who wipes the tables where your rich sit and smile?
Migrant women in kitchens, in hospitals, in care,
The most invisible labour, lowest paid hours.
You say “go back,” but where do they go?
To the wreckage your empire left long ago?
Does your liberation reach asylum hotels, Home Office flats?
Where the right to belong is always too late?

What about Gaza? Where mothers dig graves,
Newborns breathe gas instead of air,
Women give birth in rubble, where life is death
You mourn your wars, count your dead,
While my sisters’ bodies are just headlines instead.
Where is your liberation without Palestinian women?

I am a Turkish woman,
and If it were up to me,
I would not know the name of the women murdered,
on the streets, in homes, in silent hours,
I would not know the names of those drowned crossing rivers,
If it were up to me, I would not have known exile nor borders,
nor so many women locked behind iron doors.
But I know Gulten Sayin and the pain of a son’s death,
I grew up seeing the face of Ozgecan on the internet,
I know the names of a thousand others,
Women buried in silence, in cells, in water.
My aunts, my sisters, my grandmothers.
May oppressors burn in their indifference.
My liberation without theirs is nothing but betrayal.

We’re here to speak about Afghan women,
So let me get started,
Because liberation without Afghan sisters is liberation denied.
Women doctors, women judges,
Women teachers, women scholars,
Now women locked, women silenced,
Women erased– for once I’d like to say women and not violence
Your armies came, your armies left,
And with them, their futures. That’s theft!
Knowledge is power, and women’s power you fear,
A girl with a book is a threat too near.
A girl writing is a threat,
A girl reading,
walking,
breathing
is a threat.
Crumble in your fear,

To hell with your instructions.
Tell me what to do with my ovaries.
Tell me how to democratise.
Tell me why covering my body is oppression,
But bombing mine is not.
Tell me how to speak, how to look, how to walk,
Is my accent just right? Am I dressed unprovocative enough?
Tell me what my freedom looks like,
How else will you humanise me?
Draw me a map to my own liberation,
Then burn it before I arrive.
Because your freedom was never for me,
It was never for the women in cages,
The Women suffering from your own wars,
The women in rubble, the women in exile,
women in schools turned to graves,
women across borders, women crossing channels
women who fix, wash, and clean your flannels.
And if your liberation is not for them,
Then it was never liberation at all.