When it comes to the Epstein files, I don’t think men understand just how furious women are

As the horrific extent to which the world’s wealthiest men have used their power to abuse becomes clear, a wave of fury has been unleashed. Women have had enough, writes Helen Coffey – but we might not be as powerless as we think we are

People gathered at the Women’s March in Seattle, Washington in 2017 (AFP/Getty)

It’s a strange thing, hearing men on the news talk about the Epstein files. They are quietly sombre, shaking their heads with mutterings of “oh yes, awful, isn’t it?” Then, in the very next breath, they’re all clinical professionalism, holding forth about the wider political implications and how it has put Keir Starmer in a perilous position.

Not so the women in my life – or even the female broadcasters, for that matter. They are aghast, astounded, horrified. Most of all, they are furious. Incandescent with rage. For them, the victim of this unfurling horror story isn’t Starmer. And it’s certainly not the monarchy, who may now purport to be standing with the victims, but were glacially slow to say or do anything previously – even after Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor’s car-crash interview with Emily Maitlis sent shockwaves around the world in 2019.

With each new revolting atrocity that comes to light, you can all but feel the fury radiating out of women – palpable, pulsating. This is not a political story for us. It is a deeply personal one. We see a tale, not of entitled men being toppled from power, but of powerless, nameless women and girls being habitually abused, assaulted and raped – bought, sold and used as playthings by men so wealthy that they truly believed they were untouchable. And for good reason: lawmakers reviewing unredacted materials in the Epstein files say that the Department of Justice’s redactions have obscured potentially important names. Moreover, they’ve claimed that some of these redactions may have been politically motivated, rather than legally required.

The curtain has well and truly fallen away, but women are left slumped in shock as so many modern-day wizards of Oz continue to operate with impunity. Even if they haven’t technically committed any crimes, we can finally see how these so-called masters of the universe talk and think about us when we aren’t there.

As Helen Rumbelow writes stirringly in The Times: “The sensation of clicking on the Epstein files is like taking the back off the world clock. We see behind the grand façade usually presented by men who run the planet, in government, academia, royalty and business, from presidents to Andrew, the former prince.

“We see the contrast between their public distancing and their private networking. But we also see their everyday exchanges making the cogs of the world turn, oiled by porn-saturated woman-hating.”

This news is not news to the majority of women – it’s all so crushingly predictable. But it is now impossible to ignore; the Epstein files are a visceral reminder, shoved in our faces, of the misogyny that continues to seethe just below the surface of the polished, “civilised” front.

Lest we forget, the convicted sex offender, Harvey Weinstein, once attended a women’s march before his heinous crimes were finally fully exposed. How many other prominent men are hiding behind empty platitudes about victims, while in truth they’ve hardly given them a moment’s thought?

Mass marches and protests are held every International Women’s Day, calling for gender equality and an end to violence against women and girls (PA)

The current collective anger at watching women being treated more like objects than human beings, and the profound and lasting harm repeatedly inflicted on the most vulnerable, has become almost unbearable. Yet it also has echoes of other pivotal points at which we’ve witnessed pronounced cultural shifts.

The #MeToo movement gained worldwide momentum in 2017, for example; widespread marches took place that same year in opposition to Donald Trump’s inauguration as President after his infamous “grab ’em by the p*ssy” remarks were thrust into the public sphere. More recently, there was national outcry at the rape and murder of Sarah Everard by serving police officer Wayne Couzens in 2021. Protests swiftly followed, an uprising of women demanding the right to feel safe as they went about their lives and an end to violence. They were standing up and saying – screaming, even – enough is enough.

But it wasn’t enough, was it? Abuse didn’t stop in the entertainment industry because of #MeToo, any more than abusers were flushed out of the Met Police. And that simmering frustration at the speed of change – or lack thereof – is adding fuel to the current rising temperature today. Reeling at the seemingly relentless accounts of unfeeling cruelty and sexual violence against women, we’ve reached boiling point. But what to do with all that scalding hot anger? Where to put it?

History has shown us at least one potential response when women reach a critical mass of wrath meets DGAF (Don’t Give A F***) energy: we could all simply go on strike. Come next month, will there really be anything to celebrate on International Women’s Day? Wouldn’t it be more sensible to rebrand it International Walkout Day?

Hear me out. It has actually been done before, and to great effect – most notably in Iceland (of course it was Iceland), where, on 24 October 1975, women held a one-day nationwide walkout. The aim was to demonstrate women’s indispensable work in keeping the economy and, let’s face it, entire country afloat, and to protest against wage discrepancy and unfair employment practices.

It is suddenly impossible to ignore, a visceral reminder of the misogyny that continues to seethe just below the surface

At the time, women in paid employment made less than 60 per cent of what their male counterparts earned. And so they demanded better by withholding that most valuable of resources: their labour. This was both paid and unpaid; on what became known as the Women’s Day Off, participants not only didn’t turn up to work, they also refused to carry out any domestic labour whatsoever. No cooking. No cleaning. No childcare. For 24 hours, women simply walked out on their responsibilities – and the country ground to a halt.

Fish factories, along with banks and some shops, had to close because of their majority female workforces. Employers bought colouring materials and sweets in advance to prepare for dads bringing their kids to work for the day. Perhaps the most amusing knock-on effect was that supermarkets sold out of sausages – the only thing that many men apparently knew how to cook. It’s no coincidence the day also became known as “the long Friday”. One can only imagine how the hours must have dragged for the male populace, suddenly put in charge of making dinner and looking after their own children.

An impressive 90 per cent of Iceland’s female population took part, including in rural areas. The results were swift and impressive: Iceland’s parliament passed a law guaranteeing equal rights the following year. Four years after that, Vigdís Finnbogadóttir became the first democratically elected female president in the world. The legacy lives on: Iceland has ranked first in the World Economic Forum’s annual Global Gender Gap Index, which comprehensively assesses countries’ gender equality, for 16 consecutive years.

Icelandic women have not held onto that coveted crown by resting on their laurels. Initially every 10 years, and then with greater frequency, women have stopped work early on the anniversary of the big Day Off. In 2023, they went a step further, staging a second strike day. This time, they were protesting not just the continuing gender pay gap but violence against women. It culminated in a mass demonstration in Reykjavik, totalling around 100,000 people, one of whom was Iceland’s then-prime minister, Katrín Jakobsdóttir. She set the laudable goal of achieving “full gender equality” by 2030.

Iceland’s former prime minister, Katrín Jakobsdóttir, took part in 2023’s women’s strike (AP)

But this kind of organised action isn’t limited to those progressive Nordic folks. Just last year, historian Emily Callac published the book Wages for Housework, detailing the radical feminist, anti-capitalist movement started in the early 1970s, which called for all women’s unpaid labour and caring work to be recognised – and, crucially, renumerated. It was created by the International Feminist Collective, co-founded by Mariarosa Dalla Costa, Silvia Federici and Selma James, with demands first stated in Manchester at the third National Women’s Liberation Conference in 1972. They later took inspiration from Iceland’s Day Off with their slogan: “When women stop, everything stops.”

From these roots have grown contemporary movements; James, now aged 95 but showing no sign of slowing down, has been the international coordinator of the Global Women’s Strike since 2000. That first year, this movement seeking to value all women’s work – and all women’s lives – orchestrated widespread action and demonstrations across 60 countries. They still organise today, often planning collective action like marches on 8 March to coincide with International Women’s Day.

I’m calling it – this year, maybe we should all join them. This year, maybe it’s time to channel this present rage and just down tools for the day. This year, maybe we need to hit the patriarchy in the only place it ever really hurts: their pockets.

If hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, it really hath no fury like a woman who’s seen too many of her sisters oppressed, assaulted and violated by the most heinous, putrid, evil of men. Who’s with me?