"Deeds not words"

Mary Garrett, nee Morgan,
c. 1915

My paternal grandmother was 48 before the law of the land permitted her to cast her vote in a general election.That was in 1918, by which time she had been married for 27 years, given birth to nine children, sacrificed her oldest son to the First World War and her oldest daughter to the influenza pandemic, given decades of selfless service to her church and community. My maternal grandmother, similarly a model citizen but not of the property-owning class, would wait twelve further years before she could cast hers, at the age of 43. Both would be told by their husbands for whom they should vote.

Today, all over the country, the centenary of the Representation of the People Act 1918 is being celebrated and the women who fought so hard for their suffrage are being remembered and honoured. Last night I went to a talk given by Angela V. John, the historian and biographer, on Margaret, Lady Rhondda, a leading suffragette in my home town of Newport in South Wales in the early 20th century. Margaret was a courageous and determined woman - she was certainly an important one, but only one in the long line of courageous and determined women that stretches way back in time and place and still grows now, as women worldwide continue to struggle for true equality.

One historical figure who fascinates me is Olympe de Gouges, who preceded the suffragettes by a century. In revolutionary France - which, in many ways, especially with regard to gender, was very reactionary - she strove for women's freedom from the constraints and expectations of her time. She was a playwright, an abolitionist and the author of "Declaration des Droits des Femmes" (Declaration of the Rights of Women). Like her British sisters a hundred years later, she was fearless in the face of  censure and violence. Witnesses to her execution during the Reign of Terror in November 1793 spoke of the dignity with which she went out to meet her end.
 

Liberté, égalité, solidarité féminine?

They anticipate the thrill of death,

watch and wait in the chill

of this autumn evening.

Flares light their faces.

The walk is not far, nor unexpected,

for one who trod my path,

each step a stride toward

the égalité I sought.

They will allow no words.

My face must speak for my lips,

my composure declare

the verity of my cause,

my courage ignite their hearts.

Denied the right to mount the speaker's platform,

I have the right to mount this scaffold.

(Copyright Gill Garrett 2016)