International Women’s Day: My cup is full

Michelle Minnikin
Mar 8
4 min read

In a world on fire, women still gather - and that matters

This weekend, I have been properly out and about.

I got the train down to London to celebrate the release of the incredible Sophie Jane Lee’s new book, Beyond Palatable - a manifesto for unapologetic women from an award-winning journalist turned voice and visibility consultant who has helped thousands of women find and use their voices.

And honestly, what a way to spend International Women’s Day weekend.

On Friday morning, I found myself crying with rage and sadness when Elena told me about the government’s decision to impose a new “visa brake” on Afghanistan, Cameroon, Myanmar and Sudan - countries named in a policy announced on 4 March 2026.

These are countries where people are living through war, persecution and profound human rights abuses, and it felt painfully callous to watch our government respond not with humanity, but with another act of border hardening. I drafted an email to my MP straight away - because when policy looks this cruel, silence is not an option - and sending it is on my list for Monday.

Because yes, this weekend was full of books and brilliance and wine and dancing and marching and moaning about rail replacement buses. But it was also a reminder of something deeper - spending time with women is not some fluffy optional extra. It is life-giving. It is regulating. It is medicine.

There is good reason for that. Research on women’s social ties suggests that connection and affiliation can help trigger oxytocin, the hormone associated with bonding and care, and can reduce stress-induced cortisol levels. One review describes this as part of women’s “tend-and-befriend” response to stress - not fighting, not fleeing, but gathering, connecting, and getting through it together.

And that is exactly what this weekend felt like.

The book launch party for Beyond Palatable was fab. I got to hang out with my partner in WTF - Women Talking Facts, our podcast and upcoming retreat, Women, Truth, Freedom - the glorious Felice. There is something so special about taking online connections into real life. People you have laughed with through a screen suddenly become solid and huggable and even more wonderful in person - Wendy, Alice, Christine, Jaime!

I got to spend time with epic people from the HR Big Meet, too - Jenny, Emma and Michelle. There were laughs, there was wine, there was dancing, there was that particular kind of joy that only happens when smart, funny women are together in a room with no need to perform.

Then came another kind of gathering.

On Saturday, I met more incredible humans for the Million Women Rise march through London, continuing a long-running annual demonstration organised by and led by Black and Global Majority women, calling for an end to men’s violence against women and girls.

I saw Claire, Hira, Eloisa, and Cristina for the first time - and had a magical guest appearance from Cat.

There is something powerful about marching with women. Something ancient. Something heartbreakingly necessary.

And because misogyny is never far away, we also experienced some random abuse from a fully grown man waving a Bible sign and shouting at us to get home to the kitchen and look after our husbands.

What a fucking lunatic.

He was not the only one. Was rather disconcerting to be walking past smirking men of all ages filming us.

At one point, I remember looking up at my sign, with the basic details of six women murdered by men. Six women. Six lives. Six stories. Reduced so easily to a list. Another bunch of statistics, unless we stop and feel the weight of what those statistics mean. I wanted to scream and cry but worried if I started, could I ever stop?

That is the tension, isn’t it?

On the one hand, my weekend was full of delight, connection, solidarity, wit, warmth and the kind of laughter that shakes something loose in your body. On the other hand, all of this sits against the backdrop of wars, rights being stripped away, genocide, and mad men in charge of militaries.

What a time to be alive.

And still - women gather.

We gather at book launches.

We gather on podcasts and retreats and WhatsApp groups.

We gather in the streets.

We gather in rage.

We gather in grief.

We gather in joy.

We gather because we need each other.

We gather because being together reminds us who we are.

After the march, I did the mad dash for my train home. Which, naturally, terminated in York. So, I ended up on the dreaded rail replacement bus - the very thing I had been moaning about all weekend.

And yet even that became part of the magic, because I found myself in the middle of the most amazing two hours of life-affirming conversation, sharing Maoams with the utterly delightful Theo.

That is the thing I keep coming back to.

How often women turn even the most irritating, inconvenient, badly organised moments into connection.

Into humour.

Into warmth.

Into meaning.

Today, my cup is full.

I am writing this in my PJs, having a quiet day, catching up on bits and pieces before a busy week of both in-person and online delivery. And I know that this week, once again, I will get to spend time with more brilliant women. In conversations, in workshops, in voice notes, in group chats, in passing moments of honesty, rage, love and solidarity.

And all the while, the Rise Above WhatsApp group chat keeps reminding me daily how fucking amazing women are.

So this International Women’s Day, I am not interested in polite platitudes or corporate cupcakes or being told how “resilient” women are while the world continues to ask us to survive the unsurvivable.

I am interested in women.

Real women.

Brilliant women.

Funny women.

Raging women.

Truth-telling women.

Tender women.

Unpalatable women.

Women in the street.

Women on the dancefloor.

Women on the rail replacement bus.

Women who march.