In June 2015, the atmosphere outside the Yarl’s Wood immigration removal centre near Bedford was charged with a unique sense of purpose. As I stood there, the voices of women inside the facility echoed with chants of “Set her free” and “Shut it down.” These slogans, also scrawled as graffiti on the walls, represented the desperate reality of those held within. My frequent visits to the centre had exposed me to harrowing stories, yet that specific day felt anchored in a profound, collective hope that transcended the despair of the institution itself.
When I established Women for Refugee Women, my guiding principle was an unwavering faith in female solidarity. The organization was designed to empower asylum-seeking women to share their narratives and advocate for their own safety and justice. For many years, this faith was validated by practice. Women consistently showed up for one another, creating a robust network of support that felt both essential and durable. Marchu Belete, a colleague from that era who now serves as the director of Migration Exchange, reflects on that period with nostalgia. “Back then, women were so open, enthusiastic and creative about campaigning with migrant women,” she notes. “We didn’t realise how incredible that time was. It was amazing.”
The confidence displayed by UK feminists during the 2010s was not an isolated incident but part of a global phenomenon. Across the world, women were forging new, powerful connections. From protests for abortion rights in Ireland and the right to drive in Saudi Arabia to movements against digital sexual violence, there was a palpable sense of momentum. While I do not wish to idealize those years, there was an undeniable brightness and optimism regarding the changes we could achieve together. Today, however, that landscape has shifted, and division appears to be the defining characteristic of many women’s movements.
History reminds us that divisions among women are not entirely new; they have existed between suffragists and suffragettes, colonizers and the colonized, and across class lines. Yet, the current climate feels distinct in its intensity. I am frequently shocked by how individuals identifying as feminists now casually dismiss the struggles of women who do not mirror their own backgrounds or political stances. This dismissal is pervasive, appearing across the spectrum of our polarized debates. If one identifies with the left, there is often a reluctance to empathize with figures like Ann Widdecombe when she faces an attacker, illustrating how ideological silos prevent the recognition of shared human vulnerability.
Social media is often cited as the primary catalyst for these widening rifts. It is an undeniable reality that online platforms incentivize anger and intransigence, rewarding divisive rhetoric with clicks and followers. The debates surrounding the inclusion of transgender women in feminist spaces became particularly destructive, fueled by an algorithmic environment that prioritizes conflict over nuance. This digital environment has made it increasingly difficult to maintain the broad-based solidarity that once characterized the movement, as the pressure to conform to specific ideological camps grows stronger.
Despite the visible toxicity online, women are continuing to build alliances offline, brick by brick. These efforts may lack the viral visibility of social media disputes, but they are growing in quiet, significant ways. Jessie Brinton, a former journalist and founder of the project Mothership, is facilitating this resurgence through “kitchen table conversations” held across Britain. These gatherings provide a space for women to discuss what truly matters to them. Brinton observes a deep hunger for connection, noting, “We’ve lost the ‘village’. Women are lonely. That’s what we’ve heard over and over again. We need to rebuild the spaces in which women find each other.”
In Wigan, Gill Wright of Northern Heart and Soul echoes this sentiment, emphasizing that frontline community support is the most vital work for feminists today. Wright, who co-founded the organization after leading a mutual aid group during the pandemic, believes that local organizing is the key to systemic change. “Women who are on the frontline of crises have so much knowledge to share,” she says. “We aren’t putting our energy into changing the system. We are focusing our energy on building alternatives.” This approach gained further momentum following the 2024 establishment of the North East Mayoral Combined Authority, which provided local councils with greater powers, allowing women to ensure their concerns were integrated into regional policy.
The philosophy driving these initiatives is simple: “What works for women works for everyone.” This was evident during the recent “racist pogroms” in Belfast, where migrant and white women united to support their communities. As we look toward the future, we face a choice. We can lean into division, building walls and focusing solely on the nation or the individual, or we can insist that care and connection remain stronger than hate. The latter path requires the daily, persistent work of weaving connections, a task that women are undertaking in communities everywhere, proving that solidarity is not lost—it is simply being reimagined.