The past week or so has marked a grisly time for Irish women. Last Monday brought two shocks: the sudden death of Dolores O’Riordan and the extraordinary announcement that the gardaí are to reopen the 1984 Kerry babies case.
From the four corners, a deluge of tributes to the 46-year-old Cranberries singer who died in a London hotel flooded the airwaves, print and social media. In truth, many had forgotten just how huge the band had been in the early 1990s, but more poignantly, how intensely a generation of young women had identified with the elfin, spiky, shy, independent spirit that O’Riordan was. She was a global star with a local accent, living proof that the girl-next-door can inherit the earth.
In contrast, nobody would want the sort of fame — or infamy — that was thrust upon Joanne Hayes, the young woman from Abbeydorney who found herself in the eye of a maelstrom whipped up by the deep-rooted misogyny of “Official Ireland”. The resurrection of the Kerry babies case sparked many immediate reactions. For those old enough to remember the ugly furore surrounding the discovery of the murdered newborn on a beach and the subsequent legal crucifixion of a woman proven to be innocent of the crime, the emotions were a return of the anger, guilt and sadness caused by the farcical and brutal 1985 tribunal.
Younger people — including, by his own admission, the taoiseach — who knew little or nothing about the case expressed bemusement and revulsion that such an appalling episode could happen in this country as recently as the 1980s. A multitude of commentary and debate has poured forth over the past week about how much has changed for women in Ireland since then and also how little has changed. Both points of view are correct.
Alongside the necessary, if painful, re-examination of this shameful chapter from our past, it’s also important to look at what lies ahead for this country’s women this year — a year, serendipitously, which marks the centenary of women’s suffrage in Ireland.
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It’s going to be a big 12 months. There will be an abortion referendum on the repeal of the Eighth Amendment. If the government remains in place and sticks to its declared schedule, there will then be a second tranche of referendums in November, including one on the removal from the constitution of the reference to women’s place in the home. These will all run against the backdrop of the campaign regarding the gender pay gap and the #metoo movement fighting sexual harassment.
Phew. Isn’t it just as well that women are such expert multitaskers? Irish women could do worse than take note of what’s afoot among their American counterparts. When the inaugural women’s protest marches snaked through streets in cities across the US and elsewhere last January, people were taken aback by the huge numbers but attributed it to the still-fresh shock following the election of Donald Trump. Last Saturday it was clear that the passage of 12 months hadn’t dampened their rage. Hundreds of thousands of women (and male supporters) were back pounding the pavements — an estimated 300,000 marched in Chicago, an astonishing 600,000 in Los Angeles — in response to a torrid year of Trump.
More importantly, it is also evident that last year’s massive march wasn’t simply a girls’ day out, as cynics suggested. An article in the current issue of Time magazine reports how the march has morphed into a genuine movement.
According to the article, at least 79 women are exploring runs for governor in 2018, potentially doubling the record for female candidates set in 1994. The number of Democratic women likely to be challenging incumbents in the House of Representatives is up nearly 350 per cent from 41 women in 2016. Roughly 900 women contacted Emily’s List (an organisation that recruits and trains pro-choice Democratic women) about running for office from 2015 to 2016, but since President Trump’s election more than 26,000 women have got in touch about launching a campaign. Around these women is a growing support network providing aid, from financial backing to election advice and campaign staff.
Getting women into Irish politics is a continuing struggle — and who can blame them? Leinster House is still (correctly) regarded as a gentlemen’s club; the hours are erratic and not conducive to having quality family life.
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The introduction of gender quotas has helped, though it may take several electoral cycles to have a palpable effect on politics, and groups such as Women for Election, the National Women’s Council of Ireland (NWCI) and the newly formed Oireachtas Women’s Caucus have all stepped up their various campaigns with an eye to next year’s local elections.
Something more is needed to galvanise Irish women into both marching on the streets and running for public office. Sad to say, but there are all too few political role models for young Irish women to identify with — unsurprising given that only 114 female TDs have held office since the foundation of the state with a paltry 19 serving in cabinet.
Perhaps looking to the past can shape the future. One simple desire should be enough to unify any putative female rebels without a cause. Never, ever again should a sister, daughter, niece, friend or colleague be judged like Joanne Hayes. Never again should a woman have to fight for equal pay or for the right to go about her business without being harassed, threatened or disrespected.
The past is another country, but it’s never far away. The only way to leave it behind is a long march. Backwards, in high heels, if that’s what it takes.