happy women’s day?

International Women’s Day unfolded with an unexpected note. I planned earlier in the day to visit Stratford mall, not to shop anything, but to give a few coins to the elderly woman who usually stands at her familiar corner on the bridge. I doubted she knew what day it was, so perhaps the gesture was more about me, honouring the belief that every woman deserves care in some form.

But today the bridge was strange, filled with only pedestrians. No beggars, no preachers, no familiar faces. Only police and the quiet efficiency of a city “cleaning for order.” I searched for her, scanning the usual spots, but she was nowhere to be found, not even earlier in the day, it seemed.

I walked back with the coins still in my hand, wondering what to do with them. I know I’ll give them to her another day, but the questions lingered. Do these small acts change anything at all? Could they even make things worse, especially in cities where giving to beggars is discouraged so that the government will centralise them to “better” shelters and services? Will she survive long enough to see these policies take shape? And when they do, will the “better future” be for her or for someone else?

I end the day holding these questions, letting them sit with me rather than forcing them away or insisting on any specific answers.