Marching for Our Sisters - Million Women Rise

Written by Haidy Adam Mayouf  and Maggy Moyo

Haidy is a FiLiA volunteer.

Maggy Moyo is a FiLiA volunteer and committed community organiser and activist fighting for refugee and migrant rights.

It was an early morning start and a long journey from Manchester to London, but our purpose carried us through. As soon as we arrived at Euston Station, we saw women holding banners with powerful messages ‒ a sign that we were all heading to the same assembly point. We were here for Million Women Rise, a march organised to mark International Women’s Day (IWD), a day of remembrance, resistance and renewed commitment to fighting violence against women.

As we reached the assembly point, the sight before us was both overwhelming and inspiring, women of all backgrounds and nationalities standing together, deep in conversation about the issues affecting us all. The energy was powerful, filled with determination, grief and resilience.

As FiLiA volunteers, our group consisted of women from different parts of the world. Some of us grew up believing that sex-based violence was mainly an African issue, shaped by the struggles in our home countries. The UK, after all, prides itself on human rights and women’s rights. But as we stood among thousands of women, each carrying their own stories of pain and survival, we realised a harsh truth: violence against women knows no borders.

Among us were women who had lost loved ones to male violence. Some were refugees, having fled their homelands to escape the very horrors we were now marching against. The weight of our collective grief deepened as the names of women murdered this year alone were read aloud. Each name was a story, a life taken too soon.

Among them was Barbara Nomakhosi Mpala. Her name hit close to home, as she had once worked with one of our members. Barbara was described as a sweet, gentle soul with a bright future ahead of her, a future that was cruelly stolen.

We also marched for Zanele Qgamane, another name that carried profound meaning for us. Her sister is one of our own, standing beside us. Zanele was gruesomely taken from her family, leaving behind a little boy in South Africa who will now grow up without his mother.

These were not just names. These were our sisters. And as we took our first steps forward, we knew that we were marching for them. May their souls rest in peace.

A group of us who also volunteer with the Lesbian Immigration Support group were honoured to be invited to walk at the front, holding the banner that symbolises our fight. Behind us, a sea of women, their voices rising in chants of defiance. The rhythmic beat of drums set the pace, whistles blew and fists were raised in unity.

This was more than a march. It was a declaration, that we refuse to be silent, refuse to be erased and refuse to accept a world where women are not safe.

As we walked, our awareness expanded beyond our own grief. Birmingham women marched with placards for Palestine, standing in solidarity with women facing oppression across the world. We could not ignore the suffering of women in the Congo and Sudan. This march was not just for us; it was for every woman fighting for survival in a world that too often turns a blind eye to their pain.

The strength of the women around us was undeniable. Some of us struggled to keep pace, but the energy, the solidarity and the shared pain that united us kept us moving forward.

The march ended at Trafalgar Square, where the power of words took over. Speakers from all walks of life ‒ young girls, seasoned activists, disabled women, elderly women, women of different races and backgrounds ‒ took turns at the microphone.

Poetry, music and speeches filled the air, painting a raw and emotional picture of why we were here. Not a single eye remained dry. Each speaker’s voice carried the weight of generations of struggle and survival. Each story fuelled our determination to fight harder for our daughters, our sisters and our mothers.

We wished the day would never end, but reality called us back. As the speeches concluded, we rushed to catch our train back to Manchester. But we did not leave empty-handed. Our hearts were full, our spirits ignited and our mission clearer than ever.

We did not march for ourselves alone.

We marched for every woman who has been silenced, brutalised and stolen from us.

And we marched with a demand: Women’s rights organisations must accelerate action. We need real safety and real protection for every woman, everywhere. Women should feel safe ‒ in the streets, in their homes, in their workplaces ‒ safe in every space they exist.

This march was not the end. It was the beginning. A promise that we will keep fighting until justice is served, until no more names need to be added to the list of the lost.

Until all women are safe. Million Women Rise!