On March 8, 1917, women working in textile factories in Petrograd, Russia, staged protests demanding improved working and living conditions. A century later, women across the United States and worldwide continue to strike and advocate for the same rights. Originally called International Working Women’s Day, International Women’s Day has a deep-rooted tradition of uniting women to insist that the world acknowledges and appreciates our contributions.
As a millennial who graduated during the Great Recession, I have watched myself and my peers scramble for any chance that came along. We set aside our diplomas to wear the uniforms and name tags of low-wage, hourly positions that higher education was supposed to protect us from. Many twenty-somethings, including myself, transitioned directly from dormitory life back to their childhood homes.
These challenging circumstances granted employers extraordinary power over us. Unpaid internships flourished, and we sometimes worked extended hours, reluctant to request pay raises or promotions, willingly accepting diminished salaries. I knew several women who cried in their cars or in restroom stalls during lunch breaks because they detested their jobs or supervisors but felt unable to resign. It was akin to remaining in a poor romantic relationship out of fear that no one better would come along. This environment suppressed our creativity and made us averse to taking risks.
Although the recession is in the past, its mindset lingers on. Employers still seem to expect that younger workers should adapt to whatever conditions they offer. I can relate; I lived it. After a rewarding career in sales and marketing, I opted to pursue my MFA in creative writing. Upon graduating, I ardently sought a copywriting role while also urgently needing employment, as my two years in graduate school had entirely depleted my savings.
For the first time, I confronted the disheartening reality that my peers had faced back in 2007, now nearly a decade later. As I made preparations to return to my hometown in Kentucky and move in with my mother, I meticulously searched job listings for something in the writing field. The job I managed to secure offered $15 per hour—less than I had earned selling cosmetics at Nordstrom—and I would have to wait three months before health insurance kicked in. Nevertheless, they were thrilled to have me, assuring me that if I “hit it out of the park,” I would receive a raise come December.
As someone who has always aspired to excel, it felt as though I was being asked to diminish myself.
In less than two months, I was told I was the most skilled writer on the team, chosen over more seasoned colleagues to help onboard a new employee. I had innovative ideas, and I was available whenever my supervisor needed assistance. However, during my performance review, when I inquired about the raise, my supervisor appeared startled. I was merely asking for what had been promised, yet it felt as though he was offended that I even brought it up. I found myself at a loss for what to do. If he had simply stated that I hadn’t earned it, I could have improved my performance. However, it was evident that I deserved a raise, yet he didn’t believe it was appropriate for me to mention it. I’ve always been someone who aims for greatness, yet now it seemed as if I was being urged to minimize my contributions.
I clasped my hands on the table and offered a smile. He made me feel diminutive, akin to a young girl who was unsure of her place. While the conversation progressed, my thoughts were consumed by the raise. Unknowingly, I began to channel those women from 1917—the Russian textile workers who demanded better and recognized their worth. I started compiling a mental list of my strengths: my professional background, my dedication, my writing abilities. I realized I needed to leave because this man would never acknowledge my value.
In the following months, I accepted freelance copywriting projects, established columns with regional newspapers, and pitched my writing to national publications—eventually earning as much on the side as I did in my underpaid day job. Consequently, I quit. It wasn’t a straightforward decision; freelancing can be tough. I never grasped the “No Days Off” mentality fully until I ventured into self-employment.
Now, I have the power to determine the worth of my work. I no longer fixate on the clock to get through the workday. I dictate when and with whom I collaborate, ensuring that I am respected for my contributions.
Change is underway. Women, it’s time for us to recognize our own worth, to own it, and to demand more from our employers or to create our own paths.
However, before you can take action, you must first believe in your abilities. Take a moment to jot down your valuable skills. Gather your friends and conduct an honest evaluation of each other’s résumés. Reach out to mentors for feedback. If you identify weak points in your résumé, seek out courses or self-teach the skills you need to elevate your worth while connecting with other women who can assist you in advancing your career.
If you feel undervalued in your current position, consider exploring other options available to you, or forge your own path—the YouEconomy is on the rise. You need not quit your job today, but there’s no harm in starting to formulate a plan. For more than a century, working women have had to fight for respect in the workplace.
Now, it’s our turn to join the movement.
