The proletarian woman fights hand in hand with the man of her

Hear the words of Clara Zetkin, forged in the furnaces of struggle: “The proletarian woman fights hand in hand with the man of her class against capitalist society.” These are not idle syllables, but a cry of solidarity, a vision that rises above the divisions sown by greed. In them lies the truth that the chains of oppression weigh not only upon the backs of men but also upon women, and that liberation cannot be partial. The battle of the worker is shared; the hand of the man is not whole without the hand of the woman beside him.

For too long, rulers and owners have set worker against worker, man against woman, father against mother. They have whispered lies that the burdens of the world belong to one sex alone, while the other is meant only to serve or to suffer. But Zetkin proclaims with the fire of conviction: the proletarian woman is not a shadow in the struggle—she is the equal, the comrade, the fighter whose strength is essential to the breaking of chains. When she rises, the entire class rises; when she is silenced, the entire class is weakened.

Consider the mills of nineteenth-century England, where women and children worked long hours under the lash of hunger. Their hands turned the looms, their lungs filled with dust, their backs bent under endless labor. When men struck for higher wages, factory owners brought in women as cheaper replacements; when women cried out for dignity, they were told their role was lesser. Yet in time, workers learned the truth that Zetkin preached: divided they fell, but together they endured. The strikes that shook Manchester, when women stood shoulder to shoulder with men, revealed the unbreakable power of unity.

Or look to Russia in 1917. It was the women workers of Petrograd who first took to the streets on International Women’s Day, demanding bread and peace. Their defiance ignited a fire that spread to the soldiers and the factories, toppling an empire. In that moment, the proletarian woman was not behind the man, nor beneath him—she was beside him, her cry echoing as loud as his, her courage no less vital. Zetkin’s vision became flesh in history itself: when the oppressed rise together, no empire can withstand them.

The wisdom of her words is thus: liberation is not the gift of one half of humanity, but the shared triumph of both. To exalt men while silencing women is to fight with one hand tied. To seek justice for women while forgetting class is to build freedom on sand. But when the proletarian woman and the man of her class fight hand in hand, their struggle is complete, and the fortress of capitalist society trembles at its foundation.

The lesson, then, is plain. Do not be deceived by those who would divide the oppressed. Do not allow pride, prejudice, or custom to sever the hands that should clasp in unity. Remember that the dignity of one depends upon the dignity of all. When you see injustice, ask not only, “Does this affect me?” but, “Whose side am I on, and who suffers with me?” For the fight for justice is not a solitary march—it is a multitude moving as one.

Therefore, O listener, let your actions be these: if you labor, labor not only for yourself but also for your sisters and brothers. Stand beside the women whose voices are silenced; honor their courage, uplift their struggle. And if you are a woman, know that your role is not secondary—you are the equal bearer of the flame. For freedom is a fire that requires all hands to tend it, and only when the proletarian woman and man rise together can the dawn of justice break upon the world.