- 226-348-4177
- [email protected]
- 1315 Lawrence Ave E,unit 406, M3A 3R3, North York, Ontario
Last March, my friend Sarah texted me a photo of her company’s International Women’s Day “celebration”—a sad desk salad with a purple ribbon tied around the plastic container and a generic “You Go Girl!” card. We both laughed, but honestly? It stung a little. Another year, another performative gesture that cost someone five minutes at Loblaws.
Here’s the thing nobody wants to say out loud: most Women’s Day celebrations in Toronto feel… hollow. Free coffee with a Venus symbol drawn in the foam. Awkward panel discussions where everyone nods politely. Maybe some inspirational quotes on the office TV screens. By noon, it’s over, and we’re all back to our regular programming like nothing happened.
But what if Women’s Day could actually mean something?
What if instead of being celebrated AT, we could celebrate BY—by making, building, creating something with our own hands? What if we walked away with more than just a fleeting “yay women” feeling, but with actual skills, real friendships, and something tangible to show for it?
That’s what Toronto women deserve in 2026. Not more tokens. More truth. More sweat equity. More power tools, honestly.
Here are five hands-on experiences that would actually honor International Women’s Day—and why the women of Toronto are absolutely ready for them.
My mom turned 62 last year, and when I asked what she wanted for her birthday, she said “just lunch.” Just lunch. Meanwhile, she’s the woman who taught me to change a tire at 16, who built our backyard deck by herself in the ’90s, who I’ve watched compromise her dreams a thousand times because that’s what her generation was told to do.
What if we gave mothers and daughters something better than brunch?
The Workshop:
Picture this—you and your mom (or grandmother, or aunt, or the woman who raised you) standing side by side at a tufting frame, holding those surprisingly heavy tufting guns, creating a rug together. Not separately. Together. One design that blends both your visions.
The experience starts with the part that matters: the conversation. What struggles did she face that you don’t? What battles are you still fighting that she thought she’d already won? What wisdom does she have that you desperately need? What fresh perspective can you offer her world?
Then you design. She picks three colors representing her journey—maybe that burnt orange from her 1980s power suits, the deep blue of all those nights she worked late to pay your tuition, the soft pink of her first act of rebellion. You pick three representing yours—perhaps the bold purple of your first march, the green of hope you’re stubbornly holding onto, the gold of ambitions you’re not willing to compromise.
The design bridges these palettes. You tuft side by side for three hours, taking turns with the gun, helping each other keep lines straight, laughing when things go wonky, talking about everything and nothing. Your hands get tired. Your back aches a bit. You take breaks and drink wine (because yes, it’s BYOB).
At the end, you have a 70cm × 70cm rug that lives in one of your homes, and every time you see it, you remember that afternoon when you actually talked—really talked—about what it means to be a woman across two different lifetimes.
The Details:
One participant from last year told me: “My mom and I spent three hours talking about things we’d never discussed—her abortion at 19, my choice to be child-free, how scary and brave we’ve both been. That rug is in my living room now, and every single day it reminds me that I come from fighters.”
That’s not something you get from a catered lunch.
Let me tell you about Jasmine, a 28-year-old teacher who came to one of our fluid bear workshops last year. Halfway through painting her bear, she paused and said, “I’ve been to four protests this year about education funding. I’ve yelled until I’m hoarse. I’ve held signs until my arms hurt. But I’ve never made something that could stay in my classroom reminding my students—and me—why we keep fighting.”
She painted her bear in the colors of Toronto’s teacher strikes. It sits on her desk now. Her students ask about it. She tells them the story. That bear has done more for keeping her fire alive than any single march could.
Now imagine that, but bigger. Literally.
The Workshop:
You arrive at the studio with your anger, your passion, your exhaustion from fighting the same battles over and over. Maybe it’s about equal pay. Maybe it’s reproductive rights. Maybe it’s about murdered and missing Indigenous women. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re still having to prove your competence in every meeting while your male coworker gets credited for your ideas.
You write your demand on a piece of paper. Then you turn it into a rug.
Not a gentle, pretty rug. A bold, unapologetic, hang-it-on-your-wall-or-carry-it-to-your-next-march kind of rug. Big block letters. Vibrant colors. The kind of statement piece that makes everyone who enters your home ask, “Where did you get that?”
And you get to say: “I made it.”
The instructor helps you translate your slogan into a tufting-friendly design (protip: backwards letters, since the rug flips). You choose your colors—nothing pastel unless you want pastel, which is also fine because feminism doesn’t have a color palette. You spend three hours punching yarn through fabric with a power tool, which is surprisingly therapeutic when you’re thinking about all the patriarchy you’d like to punch.
The Details:
Popular slogans from past workshops: “EQUAL PAY NOW,” “MY BODY MY CHOICE,” “BELIEVE WOMEN,” “THE FUTURE IS INTERSECTIONAL,” and my personal favorite, “WELL-BEHAVED WOMEN RARELY MAKE HISTORY (OR RUGS).”
These rugs don’t just decorate. They declare. And in 2026, we need more declarations.
Here’s what nobody tells you about women’s networking events: they’re exhausting. You collect business cards from women you’ll never call. You make small talk about industries you don’t care about. You leave feeling somehow more isolated than when you arrived because you performed “professional woman” for two hours instead of being an actual human.
What if networking looked different?
The Workshop:
Eight women sit around a table, each with a small clam in front of them. You’re about to open it and discover the pearl inside—and yes, they’re real pearls from real clams, and yes, the anticipation is ridiculously exciting even though you’re a grown adult.
But first, introductions. Not “what do you do” introductions. Real ones. “What’s a dream you had as a girl that you’re either living or grieving?” “What’s one way another woman changed your life?” “What do you need help with right now?”
Then you open your clams. Some have one pearl. Some have three. All are different sizes, colors, imperfections. Kind of like women, one participant once noted, and everyone laughed but also got quiet because it was true.
You spend the next two hours designing your jewelry—necklaces, bracelets, rings, earrings—from your pearls and silver settings the studio provides. Your hands are busy, so the conversation flows naturally. You’re not performing. You’re just… talking. Creating. Someone mentions she’s trying to start a business. Another woman knows a supplier. Contact info is exchanged. Someone else is struggling with postpartum depression. Two other mothers share resources. A quiet woman in the corner mentions she’s thinking about leaving her marriage. Everyone listens. Nobody judges. Someone offers her couch if she needs it.
This is what women’s networking should always have been.
The Details:
You leave with a piece of jewelry made by your own hands and at least two women’s phone numbers you’ll actually text. That’s not just networking. That’s community building, one pearl at a time.
When was the last time you did something just for yourself that wasn’t self-care industrial complex nonsense? I don’t mean buying an overpriced candle labeled “me time” or taking a bubble bath because Instagram said you should. I mean really, truly doing something purely because it interested you, challenged you, or brought you joy without any other justification needed.
For most women I know? They can’t remember.
The Workshop:
This one’s simple. You show up alone. You pick your project—a small tufted rug, a fluid bear, a piece of jewelry. You spend two to three hours making it in a room where nobody needs anything from you.
No kids asking for snacks. No partner needing emotional labor. No coworkers wanting “just a quick question.” No mother-in-law’s birthday to plan. No friend’s crisis to manage. Just you, your hands, your chosen materials, and three blissful hours of not being responsible for anyone else’s anything.
The instructors are there if you need help, but they’re not hovering. Other women might be working on their own projects nearby, and you can chat if you want or stay in your own world if you don’t. Nobody’s offended either way. There’s good music playing. You brought your favorite drink (again, BYOB means you can have your fancy wine at 2 PM on a Tuesday if that’s what you want).
You make something imperfect and beautiful and entirely yours. When it’s done, you take it home. Maybe you display it, or maybe you don’t. The point was never the finished product. The point was those three hours when you remembered you’re a person with interests beyond your roles and responsibilities.
The Details:
One woman told me she cried halfway through tufting her rug. Not sad crying. Relief crying. “I forgot I was allowed to just… do something for no reason except that I wanted to,” she said. “Everything in my life has to be justified—spending money, spending time, spending energy. But this? This was just mine.”
On International Women’s Day, every woman deserves an afternoon that’s just hers.
I’m going to be honest with you—most corporate team building is terrible. Trust falls that make everyone uncomfortable. Escape rooms that turn competitive. “Icebreaker” games that feel like middle school. And for Women’s Day specifically? Usually, it’s a lunch where your company invites someone to talk at you about female empowerment while you eat sad sandwiches and count the minutes until you can leave.
Your employees deserve better. And so does your budget.
The Workshop:
Bring your whole team—or just the women on your team—to create something together. Not separately making individual projects. Actually collaborating on one large piece that requires everyone’s contribution.
Option one: A large tufted rug (100cm × 120cm) that takes a team of 6-8 people working together. Someone has to hold the frame steady. Someone has to check yarn supplies. Someone has to keep the design lines straight. Someone has to figure out color transitions. You have to communicate, problem-solve, take turns, and trust each other.
Option two: Individual projects (fluid bears or jewelry) done alongside each other with natural conversation flowing. No forced icebreakers. Just hands busy and mouths free to actually talk like humans.
What happens is fascinating. The office hierarchy flattens when everyone’s equally bad at using a tufting gun. The quiet employee who never speaks up in meetings turns out to be an amazing designer. The executive who intimidates everyone needs help threading yarn and has to ask for it. People laugh at their mistakes instead of hiding them. Walls come down.
The Details:
One HR director told me: “We spent thousands on a leadership retreat last year that everyone hated. This cost a fraction of that, and six months later, people are still talking about it. The rug is in our office lobby, and every new hire asks about it. It’s become part of our culture story.”
That’s what real team building looks like. Not trust falls. Just trust, built through making something together.
Look, I get it. These aren’t your typical Women’s Day events. They’re messier. More emotional. They require actual vulnerability and effort. You might get paint on your clothes or yarn fuzz in your hair. Your hands will definitely get tired. You might have to admit you don’t know how to do something and ask for help.
But that’s exactly why Toronto women are ready for them.
We’re tired of being celebrated with gestures that require nothing from us except showing up and smiling. We’re tired of empowerment talks that change nothing about the systems that oppress us. We’re tired of feminism that’s been sanded down to something corporations can sell back to us.
What we actually want is:
These five workshops do that. They’re not perfect, and they won’t solve systemic sexism. But they’re honest. They’re hands-on. They’re about building, not just being.
And sometimes, the revolution starts with admitting that another catered lunch isn’t going to cut it.
Ready to create something amazing? Join us at ZuoZuo Studio for a fun, hands-on experience. Let’s turn your ideas into a masterpiece!
📞 Call Us: 226-348-4177
📧 Email Us: [email protected]
📍 Location: 1315 Lawrence Ave E, Unit 406, North York, ON M3A 3R3 (2 minutes from North York Centre TTC)
💻 Book Online: zuozuostudio.ca/workshops
Whether you’re looking for a meaningful way to spend Women’s Day with your mom, need a space to create activist art, want to build real community with other women, need an afternoon just for yourself, or want to give your team something they’ll actually remember—we’ve got you covered.
International Women’s Day 2026 is Sunday, March 8. Let’s make it count.
BYOB-friendly. All skill levels welcome. Mostly, come as you are—tired, angry, hopeful, creative, done with performative feminism, ready to make something real.
See you at the studio. Tufting guns and truth-telling included.
1315 Lawrence Ave E,unit 406, M3A 3R3, North York, Ontario
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