I coined the term ‘shecession.’ What we’re seeing now is worse. 

When I first coined the term “shecession” in 2020, it was to describe what millions of women were experiencing — an economic freefall that hit them hardest. That spring, I led a national think tank on women and the economy from my dining-room table while my 11-year-old twins attended remote school just a few feet away. 

When asked, I told The New York Times that we should “go ahead and call this a ‘she-cession.’”   

The data and stories aligned: Women — especially those in service, care and education — were losing jobs faster than men. The shecession described an economic downturn that disproportionately stripped women of jobs and income, driven by a public-health emergency that shut down the world almost overnight. 

Five years later, what we’re seeing isn’t that. It’s something more deliberate and far worse. 

Today, there’s no pandemic. The economy is officially strong. Unemployment hovers around 4 percent, and GDP growth remains steady at roughly 2 to 3 percent. By conventional measures, the recovery is complete. Yet more than 455,000 women — including more than 300,000 Black women — have left the workforce since January. 

They didn’t leave because they wanted to. They were pushed out by policy choices, corporate inflexibility and a political climate that makes balancing caregiving and paid work nearly impossible.

This isn’t a market failure; it’s a man-made crisis. 

Return-to-office mandates have rolled back the flexibility that once made it possible for many women to work and care for their families simultaneously. Public-sector layoffs, especially in education and health services, are hitting women hardest. 

Child care costs have increased nearly 20 percent since 2019 and now average more than $11,500 annually for center-based care. In many states, that exceeds in-state college tuition. Add to that persistent pay gaps — women still earn about 83 cents for every dollar men earn — and the growing burden of unpaid elder care, and the pressures only grow.   

During the pandemic, we learned something profound: Flexibility isn’t a luxury; it’s a lifeline. Remote and hybrid work kept millions of women employed and the economy functioning. For the first time, society recognized that burnout and “doing it all” weren’t personal failures, but structural flaws. 

Corporate America has insisted on a “return to normal,” ignoring that normal never worked for most women. Even the federal government, once a model of flexible employment, has reduced telework and trimmed staff. Meanwhile, child care costs continue to outpace wage growth, forcing families to make impossible choices. 

This wave of women leaving the workforce doesn’t fit neatly into economic jargon. It’s neither a recession nor a recovery; it’s a reckoning. The economic shock isn’t external or unavoidable this time. It’s coming from within the system — workplaces and policies that refuse to evolve. 

Behind every data point is a personal decision: a mother turning down a promotion because after-school care costs more than her raise; a federal employee leaving after her agency ends remote work; a daughter quitting to care for an aging parent because paid leave remains out of reach. 

The U.S. knows how to address this. Paid family and medical leave, affordable child care, pay equity and flexible work policies are proven to keep women in the labor force and strengthen the economy.

We can’t say we don’t know how to fix this. The pandemic was proof of concept. When we invest in care, make flexibility standard and value women’s labor, the economy flourishes. 

Women’s full participation isn’t just a moral or social imperative — it’s an economic one. According to a McKinsey Global Institute study, closing gender gaps in labor force participation could have boosted U.S. GDP by $2.1 trillion over the past decade. Women don’t just bear the cost of exclusion; it drags down productivity, innovation and growth for everyone. 

The real question isn’t whether we can afford to act — it’s whether we have the will to do so. 

Because this time, women aren’t leaving because of a crisis. They’re leaving because of choices — just not their own. And that should concern us all. 

C. Nicole Mason, Ph.D. is president and CEO of Future Forward Women.