From daily violence to decisions over their bodies, women’s suffering is ignored and their losses go largely ungrieved—a reflection of a culture that shapes which rights are protected and whose lives are mourned.
Thirty years ago in Beijing, Hillary Clinton stood before the world and declared: “Women’s rights are human rights.” It was a turning point—a rallying cry that became the foundation of the Beijing Platform for Action. As we mark the 30th anniversary, the new “Beijing+30: A Roadmap for Women’s Rights for the Next Thirty Years” report shows how far we’ve come and how quickly those gains could slip away.
The Platform’s legacy runs deep. Legal reforms have expanded rights in over a hundred countries. Girls worldwide go to school at rates that were once unthinkable. Maternal deaths have dropped. More women have greater access to modern family planning than ever before. These are not small victories; they are real, hard-won and measured in millions of lives improved.
Yet even as we celebrate, the Beijing+30 report makes clear: progress has not just stalled—it is under threat. Women’s labor force participation has flatlined. Violence against women persists in every country. Women are still dramatically underrepresented in leadership. Around the globe, authoritarian regimes are dismantling ministries for women’s rights, while in places that once led the charge, rights once thought secure are up for debate all over again.
These warnings aren’t just bureaucratic language—they reflect a deeper cultural reality: From reproductive healthcare to peace negotiations, decisions about women are made by those who do not live their realities.
As Hillary Clinton writes in the report’s foreword:
“The urgency has never been greater. We are living in an era of regression as well as progress. In too many places, hard-won gains are being rolled back. … Until we achieve parity in leadership at every level, we will continue to fall short of the promises made in Beijing.”
U.N. Secretary-General António Guterres echoed the alarm at this year’s Commission on the Status of Women:
“A surge in misogyny and a furious kickback against equality threaten to slam on the brakes and push progress into reverse.”
These warnings aren’t just bureaucratic language—they reflect a deeper cultural reality: From reproductive healthcare to peace negotiations, decisions about women are made by those who do not live their realities.
Consider the chilling example set by Donald Trump, who recently told pregnant women not to take Tylenol—citing an unproven link between acetaminophen and autism—and instead to “fight like hell.” It wasn’t just an off-hand remark. It revealed a larger, familiar pattern: men telling women how to manage their bodies and their suffering, while refusing to take that suffering seriously.
Once again, women are framed as problems to be managed, rather than people to be believed and respected.
The cruelty of this dynamic is everywhere. On average in the United States, nearly three women a day are killed by current or former intimate partner—a statistic that rarely makes national headlines.
Children, too, are killed—in classrooms, neighborhoods, homes. Their lives spark brief outrage, then swiftly fade from view.
Yet when a powerful man is killed, the nation responds with public mourning on a vast scale.
The culture that decides whose life is worthy of grief is the same culture that decides whose rights are protected.
This contrast is glaring. After Charlie Kirk’s murder, tens of thousands filled an Arizona stadium for his memorial, with President Trump and other political leaders in attendance. His death was declared a “tragedy for America” on cable news and across social media. His life was transformed into a spectacle of national grief and power—a stage where women leaders rarely, if ever, appear.
When a female leader is injured or murdered—like Gabrielle Gifford or Melissa Hortman—they are remembered as a cautionary tale rather than a cultural loss.
Why does this disparity matter? Because the culture that decides whose life is worthy of grief is the same culture that decides whose rights are protected.
The newly released Beijing report warns that progress is not guaranteed, and regression is already underway. This anniversary must be more than a commemoration; it must be a recommitment. As Hillary Clinton cautions:
“This is an all-hands-on-deck moment for women across the world who have benefited from the changes in the laws, regulations, and norms over the last 30 years to realize that there are strong forces at work to try and turn the clocks back.”
The clock will not be turned back—not if we raise our voices, grieve loudly for women and refuse silence.
