Just over two years ago, I took my dog, Poppy, for a run through London. It was March 8, 2016: International Women’s Day.
Like many feminists, I was having quite a busy day. I’d just finished speaking on one panel and had just enough time to exercise Poppy before the next.
Starting on the east end of the South Bank, we ran along the River Thames, crossing at Westminster Bridge. From there, we ran to Parliament Square — a public square outside the Houses of Parliament in London. I ran past the statue of Winston Churchill. Of David Lloyd George. Of some guy I’d never heard of called Jan Smutts.
As someone who is forever visiting Parliament to annoy one MP or another, I’d been through Parliament Square many times. I knew there were statues there. But somehow I’d missed one crucial detail: out of the 11 statues dotted around the iconic square, not a single one was of a woman.
I couldn’t believe it. “This is 2016!” I thought. “How is it that no one has sorted this out yet? Someone should sort it out.”
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