Writing about March 8 carries two risks; The first concerns the article itself. The second is the possibility that it will be perceived as a form of “mansplaining.” The first judgment belongs to the reader. As for the second, this piece does not attempt to explain anything to women. It is better understood as an attempt to step away from the glossy corporate posts that flood our industry’s social media feeds and take a look at what lies beneath them.
There are different accounts of how March 8 originated. Some narratives tie it to specific historical events, while others frame it within broader developments in labor history. Yet the general consensus is clear: in the early 20th century—particularly in industrial cities—women workers were becoming increasingly visible in their struggle against long working hours and low pay. At the very least, March 8 emerged from that atmosphere of resistance.
However, this day now appears in a very different context. Nowhere is this more visible than on LinkedIn
Open the platform on the morning of March 8 and you will find a flood of strikingly similar posts: empowerment, voices, inclusion. The visuals rarely differ—stock images, pastel-colored illustrations, and carefully crafted messages that seldom stray beyond the safe limits of corporate communication.
When days born from strikes are celebrated with hashtags
Like many things in the modern world, some historical commemorations gradually become “LinkedIn-ified.” Their sharp edges are smoothed away. Uncomfortable questions are quietly set aside. What remains is a harmless narrative that everyone can comfortably applaud.
Of course, the question of equality extends far beyond the workplace. Women’s struggles continue in public life, in politics, in the home, and in the countless unseen corners of everyday existence. Yet labor remains one of the most tangible and measurable arenas of inequality, which is why the issue often appears here in its starkest form.
The tourism industry offers a particularly clear example of this transformation. Having worked in the sector for many years, I can say that behind the flawless order of a hotel lies an enormous amount of invisible labor—and much of it rests on the shoulders of women.
Behind the perfectly prepared room, the spotless breakfast hall, and the smooth-running operation is work that rarely appears in corporate narratives. Anyone familiar with the industry knows this.
Which is why those polished corporate visuals on March 8 inevitably raise a question: does the sector empower women only on billboards and social media posts, or can it discuss with equal seriousness the wages, working conditions, and rights of the employee changing the sheets in Room 407?
Hospitality professionals love the word sustainability. Yet the concept is usually limited to environmental concerns and resource management. The sustainability of labor is discussed far less often. Whether a housekeeper can retire without suffering chronic back injuries rarely appears in corporate sustainability reports.
Here one encounters one of the great skills of corporate language: the ability to conceal real problems behind neutral words such as contribution. Yet women’s labor is not merely a contribution. It is one of the central gears of the entire operation.
History also teaches a curious lesson: real struggles are not only forgotten over time. Sometimes the very systems those struggles challenged retell them as sanitized, marketable stories.
The transformation March 8 is undergoing today feels like a reminder of that pattern.
But the story does not end there.
Demands for rights and equality have almost always been uncomfortable at first. They are debated, dismissed, and often declared unrealistic. Many rights that now seem natural once faced exactly this reaction.
Perhaps that is where the real value of March 8 lies. Not in the comfort of corporate celebration, but in the discomfort of reality.
The idea of a more just world does not begin with polished LinkedIn posts. It begins with small acts of dissent, with recognizing the value of invisible labor, and with a stubborn commitment to honesty.
So even if the “LinkedIn-ification” of March 8 appears faintly tragicomic, the day itself still asks the same question:
Are we celebrating—or are we demanding equality and justice?
As long as we keep asking that question, the story is not over.