Marketing and Women’s Day evolution: From radical protest to corporate lip service

International Women’s Day (IWD), observed every year on March 8th, has undergone a remarkable transformation over the past century. What began as a revolutionary movement for workers’ rights and gender equality has gradually been repackaged into a corporate-friendly celebration filled with flowery messages, pink-themed marketing campaigns, and one-day-only discounts for women. Today, brands flood social media with well-crafted slogans, corporations host empowerment luncheons while paying female employees less, and influencers use the occasion to post aesthetically pleasing but politically empty statements. The commercialisation of IWD is a textbook example of how capitalist structures absorb radical movements, strip them of their revolutionary content, and rebrand them as palatable consumer experiences. To understand this shift, we need to trace IWD’s origins, examine its evolution in popular culture, and dissect how marketing and advertising have played a crucial role in shaping its contemporary meaning.

#InternationalWomensDay is near, but at the current rate of progress @WEF says it'll take until 2158 (roughly five generations from now) to reach full #genderparity. Let's #AccelerateAction addressing systemic barriers & biases faced by women. 👉 https://t.co/4eiieAL2Av #IWD2025 pic.twitter.com/6lqCQ8Edkj

— Women's Day (@womensday) March 3, 2025

A day of protest, not platitudes

The origins of International Women’s Day are deeply rooted in labour rights and socialist movements. The first iteration of Women’s Day took place in the United States on February 28, 1909, organised by the Socialist Party of America to protest against poor wages, unsafe working conditions, and the lack of voting rights for women. This was a time when women—especially immigrant workers—were subjected to grueling factory conditions, working 12-hour shifts for meager wages while having little to no legal protection. The event gained traction, and in 1910, during the Second International Socialist Women’s Conference in Copenhagen, German socialist leader Clara Zetkin proposed the establishment of an annual International Women’s Day to be observed globally. The proposal was accepted, and the first International Working Women’s Day was celebrated on March 19, 1911, with over a million women across Austria, Denmark, Germany, and Switzerland taking to the streets to demand better working conditions, voting rights, and an end to discrimination.

The choice of date was initially symbolic, tied to revolutionary events in German history, but in 1913, IWD was moved to March 8th, when Russian women adopted the day as a protest against war and social injustice. This date became historically significant in 1917, when thousands of women textile workers in Petrograd (now St. Petersburg) staged massive strikes demanding “Bread and Peace”, setting off the February Revolution, which eventually led to the fall of the Russian monarchy. These events solidified March 8th as a day of resistance, collective action, and political struggle. For decades, it remained a deeply socialist and anti-capitalist occasion, largely observed in communist and socialist countries. It was not a day for celebrating women’s achievements in isolation; it was a day to highlight the systemic oppression of women in the workforce and society at large.

Institutionalising and diluting the message

International Women’s Day underwent a significant transformation when the United Nations officially recognised March 8th as a global celebration in 1975, during the International Women’s Year. While this was a crucial step in mainstreaming the event, it also marked the beginning of a shift in its messaging—from class struggle and political activism to a broader, more symbolic recognition of women’s achievements. By 1977, the UN encouraged all countries to observe IWD as a day dedicated to women’s rights and world peace.

The UN’s involvement helped spread awareness, but it also softened the radical undertones of the day. The narrative shifted from a working-class, anti-patriarchal struggle to a more general celebration of womanhood, reducing its focus on economic inequality and labour rights. The push for gender equality was increasingly framed in terms of policy discussions, awareness campaigns, and diplomatic statements, making it more palatable for governments and businesses to participate. As a result, the revolutionary nature of IWD started to erode, leaving room for the corporate world to step in and redefine its meaning.

The corporate takeover: From protest to product

By the late 20th century, as feminism became more visible in mainstream culture, businesses recognised the marketing potential of IWD. What had once been a call to dismantle patriarchal and capitalist exploitation was gradually transformed into a "celebration of women"—a vague and feel-good message that lent itself well to advertising. Brands began rolling out Women’s Day discounts, pink-themed product lines, and empowerment slogans to capitalise on the growing market of socially conscious consumers. The language of "empowerment" replaced discussions of systemic oppression, making feminism more commercially appealing.

When Clara Zetkin proposed International Women’s Day (IWD) in 1910, she likely didn’t envision a future where brands would mark the occasion with pink-themed ad campaigns and limited-edition cosmetics. What began as a day of socialist-driven labour protests has since evolved into a prime marketing opportunity—a day where companies flood social media with sleek visuals and uplifting messages while conveniently sidestepping essential discussions.

This shift didn’t happen overnight; it was a slow but deliberate transformation, fueled by the advertising industry’s ability to reshape narratives, capitalise on cultural moments, and turn activism into aesthetic. 

For much of the early 20th century, IWD was a political event, not a commercial one. The first promotional materials associated with the day were not advertisements but socialist pamphlets, posters, and banners calling for women’s rights, better wages, and an end to exploitation. In Soviet Russia, China, and other socialist states, government-sponsored posters featured strong, working-class women—a stark contrast to the delicate, hyper-feminised imagery often seen in today’s IWD ads. These visuals were designed to inspire collective action, not consumer spending.

In the mid-century, mainstream advertisers in capitalist countries largely ignored IWD. Women’s representation in advertising was dominated by domestic stereotypes—ads typically portrayed women as housewives, mothers, or secretaries, reinforcing rigid gender roles rather than advocating for change. At the time, the idea of a women-centered campaign that focused on rights rather than household products was unimaginable.

The turning point came during the second-wave feminist movement of the 1960s and 1970s. As conversations around equal pay, reproductive rights, and workplace equity gained traction, brands began to realise that female consumers weren’t just homemakers—they were workers, voters, and decision-makers. This coincided with the United Nations officially recognising IWD in 1975, a move that helped institutionalise the day while simultaneously making it more palatable for businesses.

By the 1980s and 1990s, advertising had begun to integrate feminist rhetoric—but often in a softened, non-threatening way. Instead of calling for systemic change, brands adopted empowerment messaging that focused on individual success stories rather than collective struggles. This approach was more commercially viable, as it allowed companies to align with the rising feminist movement without addressing uncomfortable topics like labour exploitation, workplace harassment, or economic inequality.

The digital age, combined with the explosion of social media marketing, ushered in a new era for IWD. Brands recognised the potential of activism as a branding tool, and suddenly, Women’s Day was no longer a niche observance—it was a global marketing event. A few key trends emerged during this period. Hashtag Feminism & Viral Campaigns: With the rise of platforms like Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook, brands began launching IWD-specific hashtag campaigns. The success of movements like #MeToo and #TimesUp showed that feminism had gone mainstream, and brands were eager to tap into this momentum. Campaigns framed themselves as empowering narratives, though critics pointed out that many of these companies still upheld problematic beauty standards. By the 2010s, IWD had become an economic opportunity. Companies released Women’s Day-themed products—everything from makeup lines to sneakers and fast-food packaging—often with a portion of proceeds going to women’s charities. While some of these initiatives had a positive impact, others were thinly veiled attempts at gender-washing, where companies used IWD as a marketing hook without addressing deeper inequalities within their own ranks. 

Gender-washing and performative feminism

The rise of corporate feminism has given birth to "gender-washing," a phenomenon in which companies market themselves as champions of gender equality while failing to enact meaningful change. This performative approach to feminism has led to bizarre contradictions, where the same companies that publicly celebrate IWD are exposed for their gender pay gaps, workplace discrimination, and lack of parental leave policies. A recent example is the @PayGapApp, a viral X (formerly Twitter) account that exposes companies that post IWD messages while underpaying their female employees.

The problem extends beyond individual brands. Governments and institutions also engage in symbolic feminism—issuing statements on IWD while simultaneously rolling back women’s rights, cutting funding for gender equality programs, or failing to pass meaningful workplace reforms. This phenomenon mirrors the way other social justice movements—such as Pride Month and Black Lives Matter—have been commercialised and stripped of their radical demands in favour of marketable aesthetics.

Pop culture and the commercialisation of feminism

The integration of IWD into pop culture has further diluted its political significance. In the age of influencer marketing, Women’s Day has become a hashtag-friendly spectacle, often reduced to motivational quotes, celebrity endorsements, and feel-good events. Hollywood hosts glamorous IWD galas, yet the entertainment industry remains plagued by gender disparities and harassment scandals. Music festivals promote women-centered lineups for one night, but fail to book female artists equally throughout the year. The dominant narrative focuses on celebrating individual female success stories, rather than addressing the structural barriers that prevent most women from achieving similar success.

International Women’s Day has traveled a long road—from the fiery streets of Petrograd to the polished pages of corporate social media campaigns. It's transformation from a day of worker-led resistance to a neatly packaged celebration of empowerment reflects a broader pattern in how radical movements are absorbed and repurposed by the marketplace. But while marketing may have softened its edges, the core issues that sparked IWD’s creation—economic inequality, workplace discrimination, and political underrepresentation—remain as pressing as ever.

The real question is not whether brands should participate in IWD, but how they choose to do so. The day still holds the potential to be more than just a branding exercise, but that requires moving beyond lip service and limited-time offers. Consumers are increasingly savvy, and the performative feminism of "one-day-only" activism is wearing thin. If companies truly want to engage with the spirit of IWD, they must be willing to back their words with tangible policies, structural reforms, and long-term commitments to gender equity—not just once a year, but every day.

Ultimately, the evolution of IWD tells us as much about marketing’s ability to shape culture as it does about the day itself. It stands at a crossroads: It can continue as an annual PR opportunity or reclaim its roots as a moment of reflection, resistance, and real progress. Whether it remains a movement or just a marketing moment is still up for debate, but the choice, as always, lies with the people who engage with it.