Today is the 99th Annual International Women’s Day. A beacon of feminism, the idea is that today, on a global scale, the world celebrates the social, economic and political achievements of women. Today is also the last day of the Butterfly Week (Fidrildavika) when Icelandic women and men raise awareness about the physical and mental abuse inflicted upon women in war torn countries such as the Congo, Liberia and Southern Sudan.

Earlier this week however, the Feminist Association of Iceland (Femínistafélag Íslands) had posters vandalized at the University of Iceland. Some of the posters were torn down, others graffitied on and some had printed pages tacked on to them with “Lessur” (“Dikes”) written repeatedly across the page.

That’s not even innovative, as far as abusing feminists go, just childish. I honestly thought we were above this but then, as my boyfriend said, “I know you Icelanders like to think you are the epitome of civilization but no place is above that, not yet.”

According to the news website visir.is, the people who run the Feminist Association at the University of Iceland say that it’s “sad that grown people behave in this way, but that it proves the real need for this kind of organization.”

Though it seems like a small crime and hardly worth making the news, it was a big enough deal for my mamma (“mom”) to call me special from back home to tell me about it.

“Nanna, can you believe it? Scandalous, I won’t let these bastards oppress me! That’s it, I’m doing the march.”

I remember my mom discussing equal rights with me when I was about eight. It was October, dismally cold and dark outside. I was sitting at our kitchen table failing miserably at my maths homework and wafting the smoke from my mother’s cigarette out of my face. She had left it slumping pathetically at the end of the ashtray as she was standing at the stove frying me some fish balls (like meatballs but cheaper and made of fish) for dinner.

She had to be at work in 20 minutes in time for the night shift and suddenly, out of nowhere began informing me on the history of women’s rights in Iceland. I’m not sure why I remember this or why it still resonates in my head but it was a great deal more interesting than fractions. I think it was important to me because it was important to her, what with being a struggling single mother and a nurse and all. She said:

“Nanna, you should know this, the Women’s Right Association of Iceland has been around since 1907, since before grandma was even born. It came to be when one January night 15 ladies got together at the house of Bríet Bjarnhédinsdóttir at Thingholtsstraeti 18 in Reykjavík. The foundation of their group marked the beginning of their mission to ‘gain equal rights to that of men and the right to vote.’ And their battle means you are going to grow up in a place where you can be whoever you want, marry whomever you want, and do anything you want. So never forget that you are just as good as everyone else and don’t stop fighting for our freedom.”

My mother’s always been a bit of a drama queen, but she certainly knows how to tell a story since even to an eight year old it seemed very moving.

So maybe my boyfriend is right, and “no place is above” behaving like an idiot towards feminism and the women’s rights movement. But hopefully, by the time I’m frying my kid fish balls in the kitchen I won’t have to worry about people acting like that anymore.

NÁ – nannaa@hotmail.co.uk