The Blossoms of My Lineage: A reflection of my time at the CSW in light of backlash and regression towards Women’s Rights

By Maggie Khan, Global Voices Fellow, Commission on the Status of Women, 2025

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Maya Angelou - Still I Rise

CSW fellow Maggie Khan holding a sign at the CSW in NYC.

Greek poet Alexandra Boutopoulou once wrote “They tried to bury us, they didn't know we were seeds”. If you asked me to describe the history of women I would refer you to this quote. Beaten down and silenced, and yet we always fight back. Here we are in the year of 2025, the most progressive century in the history of human history. Facing backlash against our rights as women we tremble, but we do not cower.  

The U.S National Statement delivered at the 69th CSW stated “we have shown our commitment to women’s health, the protection of life at all stages, and the defence of the family as the fundamental unit of society”. A country’s statement at the CSW functions as a way to showcase their attitude towards women’s rights, and what they consider the most important aspects to their empowerment. For the United States, it was family as the fundamental unit of society. The underlying reasoning behind this is the correlation between the family unit and women as homemakers. Upon hearing this I was filled with the imagery of a tree, branches so long they span across generations, each stem a different story of a woman scorned. Each one deemed “a homemaker” as their role in society was simply to bear children. It was only the very last branch before mine where they were free from the shackles of this role and yet we rushed so quickly into the backslide.

This tree is rooted deep within me, each vein an offshoot and each drop of blood a new leaf of my family history. Hanging from the side of this tree is a rope tied so high one may never reach it on their own. It hangs ominously, pushed by the swirling of the ghosts of those punished in my bloodline, their greatest transgression being born a woman.

A common theme that was often spoken about at events in the CSW was the women who fought before us. Our rights were not given to us on a silver platter, every single right that we have as women globally was fought tooth and nail and paid for in blood. The blood of these women who fought for our empowerment still runs within us and should be fuelling our rage. For what else should we be feeling in times of backlash and resistance to our very existence? The world’s global hegemony equals women to homemakers on the international stage and in that moment, I felt rage. 

Women have the tendency to bury their rage, feeling ashamed and uncomfortable. Rage is productive, it allows us to express our emotions in a society which doesn’t comprehend hurt feelings and teary eyes. Rage is how we can communicate effectively. 

Rage is how I escaped the hanging that I was destined for being born a woman. Rage is how my mother survived, and her mother before her. The rage is what filled me with adrenaline to climb the behemoth tree right to its very top. I step on branches and use each as momentum to lift me up, each woman's fight before me lifting me up one step closer to where I am now. The rope swings towards me, the loop a gaping hole threatening to swallow me whole. Before the rope has the chance to seal my fate, I’m pushed forth by the one directly proceeding me, I grab hold of the loops and swing.

Women from Australian Civil Society Organisations and the Australian Government at the CSW.

Despite the worry that permeated every room at the CSW, there was a sense of unity, a byproduct of what happens when you put hardworking and passionate women from all across the globe together. Among the gaslighting and the horror, we giggled, and we grieved together. Even if you didn’t speak the same language as another woman, there were still ways to communicate, friendly smiles and happiness that you shared. 

When I reach the ground, my fall is softened. Swirls of colour and beauty fill my eyes. Roses, lilies, jasmine, daffodils and sunflowers. The women they had buried had blossomed into a garden of love and laughter. What was once a graveyard of those hanged before me is what saved me, they were there to capture my fall.  

While my time at the CSW showed me the blatant backlash and regression we are facing as women, it also showed me the glimpse of a future filled with unbroken daisy chains where girls can be innocent with flowers in their hair.

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The views and opinions expressed by Global Voices Fellows do not necessarily reflect those of the organisation or its staff.