We've had three years of an unprecedented pandemic, stagnated wages and the highest inflation we’ve seen in four decades, leading to a catastrophic cost of living crisis.
But on International Women’s Day, which highlights the achievements and value of women all over the world, we speak to just a handful of brilliant women who help keep Britain running in largely female-led industries.
Carmel O'Boyle
Carmel O’Boyle, 42, is a nurse practitioner living in Merseyside.
She works in an NHS walk-in centre and is mum to her 16-year-old son. She’s also the Chair of the North West Regional Board for the RCN.
“It’s been a really, really busy winter. We open the clinic at 8am and there’s usually a queue at the door before you get your coat off.
"Throughout the day we’re triaging people to make sure they’re safe. But we’re always trying to catch up.
"This is one of the worst winters I’ve ever seen, certainly in my 20-odd years of working in the NHS, and my colleagues across all the different sectors of the NHS have really struggled.
"There’s more patients and not enough staff to deal with them. We’ve got an ageing, diverse population and we just don’t have the healthcare professionals to keep up with that demand.
"I’ve been a nurse for the last six years and before that I was working as a healthcare assistant.
"I was adamant I wouldn’t do my nurse training - the pay to responsibility ratio was too great - but a very wise lady said to me, ‘If your house was on fire, you wouldn’t stand in the garden with an empty bucket. So put your big girl pants on and go and get involved.’
"I still have quite vivid nightmares about things at the beginning of the pandemic, which I’m not sure will ever go away. I think there’s a certain amount of PTSD for everybody who has done this kind of work, and I don’t think any of us will ever be the same again.
"When I see queues of people outside my clinic, I feel panic.
"Some people are coming to get their dressings changed, but others might be really unwell, but they can’t be seen in other places because of overwhelming demand.
"I had a patient the other day who needed an ambulance and then you have to explain to everyone else waiting that someone else needs to be seen as a priority.
"It is difficult at the moment, and I can understand why younger people might be put off going into nursing. But I will say it’s an honour and a privilege doing this job.
"There’s a nurse there for you every moment in your life, from birth until the very end, and all those bits in between where you need somebody, there will always be a nurse."
Louise Atkinson
Louise Atkinson, 42, a primary school teacher in Carlisle, is taking a year’s secondment to work as president of the National Education Union (NEU), which has been taking industrial action.
“I always knew I wanted to be a teacher, but I took a different route. I had quite a disruptive home life and ended up leaving school at 16 with a handful of GCSEs, and went into various jobs to make ends meet.
"I had my children in my early twenties, and that’s when I decided to take a course as a teaching assistant through the Workers’ Educational Association, which provided a creche for the kids.
"After working as a TA I studied part-time with the Open University, got my degree then did a PGCE so I could work as a teacher, and qualified in 2014.
"In recent years the workload intensity has increased, there’s more expected from you and that’s all down to the lack of funding across the board.
"Crucially, the support networks like special advisory teachers, educational psychologists, adolescent mental health services, social services - all of those are really stretched, which impacts what we’re doing in the classroom.
"Now with the cost of living, many, many more children are living in poverty, and the impact of all that makes it very difficult within schools. I know of teachers who are providing food and extra supplies from their own pocket to children in need.
"It’s heartbreaking when you’re going to work every single day, giving it your all to make the difference for those children in front of you.
"But as one person, there’s only so far you can stretch yourself. And it is very, very emotionally difficult knowing that there’s children missing out, no matter how hard you work and what you do.
"One of my proudest moments was as a TA, giving intervention for one child over six to eight months, and seeing what a huge positive difference it made to that child’s future.
"But I look at other children who no longer receive that support, it’s such a false economy, because their issues only become more profound as they progress through school.”
Maariyah Razaq
Maariyah Razaq, 32, is a Patient Assessor for Sobell House Hospice, which provides at-home end-of-life care for patients in Oxfordshire
“My job is very rewarding, but it can be morbid. I work with a team providing palliative and end-of-life care for patients who want to die at home, so death is always on my mind.
"The greatest reward is being there for family members, so they can take a step back from being an unpaid carer and be there instead as a daughter, as a husband, as a family member.
"It takes the pressure off them and allows the patient to be in control in their own environment, because hospital isn’t always the best place for somebody in their final days.
"Predominantly I work with the elderly, but in the last six months the demographic has changed - we’ve recently had a 27-year-old and a 33-year-old, we’re getting more people in their forties and fifties now who have kids, and I find that’s the hardest to get to grips with.
"Sometimes my patients have only just received a terminal diagnosis and they’re trying to process that, and already they’re at the end-of-life stage.
"It means it can literally happen to any of us at any time, so that means you do take the job home with you.
"My mum is only 52 but I nag her about power of attorney, wills and whether she wants a Do Not Resuscitate order.
"We have to be prepared about these things! Unfortunately - or fortunately, however you look at it - I experienced grief when I was 11, when I lost someone very close to me, so I can completely empathise with the families of my patients.
"Everybody wants a good death. We want to feel in control of our environment, we want the ones we love around us. Being able to do this job means patients can choose their favourite duvet to snuggle in, they can have music in the background and they can choose who they see in their final minutes.
"One patient sticks in my mind as she had an ornament near her bed, and I asked her family why. They said it had always brought her joy, so they’d put it next to her to look at and it made her smile. It means a lot that I can help provide that level of comfort to someone at the end of their life."
Karina Warner
Karina Warner, 55, works as a team leader with Upward Care, which provides care for people in their homes in Wolverhampton.
"I left school at 16 to work in care, and I’ve been doing this for 39 years now. I started out as a carer and worked my way up to manager level in various places.
"When the pandemic hit in 2020 I was working in supported living accommodation, and that was really difficult.
"I got away lightly - I only caught Covid once - but talking to my staff, a lot of us worked horrendously long hours to enable our service users and residents to have the care that they needed.
"For quite some time, our accommodation was locked down and the residents weren’t allowed to see their families. It was horrendous.
"We could rarely get a doctor out, unless they were there to give out vaccines. We had to keep a lid on our own fears and keep it light for the residents.
"You couldn’t cry about it, you just had to get on with it. And because they couldn’t see their loved ones, we used to take them out of their rooms to the corridor for socially distanced painting and quizzes to keep their brains stimulated.
"Now I work for Upward Care in people’s own homes, and the highlight of my day is going in in the morning and seeing a smiley face. It brings me joy to tell them what we’re going to be doing today, to take them on holiday.
"The government doesn’t recognise what we carers do. They seem to be in denial that many of us will need carers ourselves when we get older.
"Being there at the end of someone’s life is a privilege. Them knowing you’re there, you telling them, ‘don’t worry, you’re not going to die alone, we’re going to be with you.’
"And even though it’s tough, there’s a reason I’ve been doing this for 39 years - I’m passionate about my work."
Pertunia Griffith
Pertunia Griffith, 47, has been a Health Care Assistant at Marie Curie’s West Midlands Hospice in Solihull since 2010.
"If you haven’t been to a hospice, you might not know the vital difference we make to people’s lives. I see it every day.
"We make sure no one dies alone, even if they have no family or relatives live far away and can’t be there.
"Ensuring a patient is not in pain, holding their hands and talking kindly to them in their last moments is the very least we can do.
"When a patient’s loved ones are close, they can be very distressed after their last goodbyes. We look after them too. It’s amazing the difference a cup of tea or a comforting chat makes.
"Having time for people is essential but far too often overlooked. We want to take all their worries away.
"When a new life enters this world new mums and their babies naturally get lots of support. We believe exactly the same should happen when a life nears its end. Final moments are always remembered.
"My job is emotionally tough sometimes, especially when someone is young and leaves small children. Marie Curie nursing teams are experts in their field and we look after patients as well as each other.
"We have special attributes of kindness, empathy and understanding and know when a patient is close to death. We know when a family needs extra support.
"That’s why, even though there are easier roles out there, we know we’re in the right job.
"Perhaps no one likes to think about dying too much. But working in your community, in hospices and people’s homes up across Britain, nursing teams like ours are quietly working hard to make sure people have the best end of life care possible.
"I feel glad and privileged to do my job."
