Women's Crying on Women's day

The Mothers Who Cry on Women’s Day

Today the world celebrates International Women’s Day.

Across many countries, flowers are given, speeches are made, and women are honored for their strength and achievements.

But here, in our wounded land, there are mothers who are not celebrating today.

They are mourning.

This morning I called a woman named Khadijeh.

Her voice was not the voice of someone living an ordinary day. It was the trembling voice of a mother whose heart had just been shattered. She was crying in a way that words cannot fully describe — the cry that comes from a place deeper than language.

Her son was killed today.

He was martyred in an Israeli attack.

He was not only a son.

He was a father to a small child who will now grow up knowing his father through stories, photographs, and the tears of those who loved him.

As Khadijeh spoke, her voice carried the weight of every mother who has ever feared the knock on the door, the phone call, the moment when life divides into before and after.

Before the news.

And after it.

Today, while the world celebrates women, I cannot stop thinking about mothers like Khadijeh. Women whose strength is not shown on stages or conferences, but in the quiet endurance of unbearable loss.

What does Women’s Day mean to a mother who has just buried her son?

What does empowerment mean when a woman must learn to live with a silence that once carried her child’s voice?

These mothers do not appear in global headlines or glossy campaigns. Yet their resilience is one of the most profound forms of strength humanity can witness.

They wake up every morning and continue breathing in a world that has taken away a piece of their soul.

And still, they pray.

Still, they hope that their grandchildren may grow in a world where mothers do not have to fear for the lives of their children.

Still, they carry love where hatred tried to plant destruction.

Today, on Women’s Day, I do not only celebrate the women who succeed, lead, and inspire.

I also honor the women who endure.

The mothers who bury their sons and still find the strength to stand.

The women who carry grief with dignity.

The mothers whose tears water the soil of a land that longs for peace.

Women like Khadijeh.

May the world one day understand that the true measure of peace is simple:

It is the day when no mother has to cry for her child again.

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