Why do women in Scotland vote? Because the referendum taught us that politics is about power

Since the referendum, women in Scotland have continued to ask themselves questions – and we’ve kept seeking solutions too

Nicola Sturgeon on ‘The Andrew Marr Show’ (PA)

Last week we got to see three strong female leaders in Leaders’ Debate offer an alternative, articulate vision of how politics could be. "Didn’t the girls do well?" was the general tone of the commentariat. "Especially thon wee, feisty Scottish one".

A flash of heel, some bright colours and ‘diverse’ views aired, and that’s the ‘female’ box ticked. In the last twenty years, women voting in general elections has fallen by 18 per cent, with a recent TNS poll for Woman’s Hour suggesting only 55 per cent of UK women are sure to vote - for a parliament where just over a fifth of MPs are female. When half the population doesn’t see itself reflected in public life, is it any wonder we switch off?

So why does another TNS Poll show 74 per cent of Scottish women are certain or very likely to vote in the general election? Is it something in the water?

Actually, yes. It’s in the water, the air. It’s everywhere. And 'thon wee feisty one’s' only part of it.

During last year’s Scottish independence referendum, women of all ages and backgrounds became empowered, as the debate about our constitutional future raged in towns and villages nationwide. The air - scary for some, electric for others – was fizzing with potential. It felt like the ground beneath your feet was shifting, that you could surf on a wave or fall through a sinkhole. Every day, new ideas for how you might run your country sprang up, as did new ways of discussing them: public meetings, social media, specially created hubs and cafes.

It’s an experience I couldn’t have imagined, where an entire nation - and every one of us who lived here - held up a mirror to the many things we might, but for that opportunity, have continued to take for granted. We looked at who and what we were, what kind of a country we wanted to live in. We examined the status quo, and, as all the evidence continues to show, found it wanting. This scrutiny went far beyond the politicians. It was ourselves we were asking.

Since the referendum, women in Scotland have continued to ask themselves questions – and we’ve kept seeking solutions too. Post-indy, there’s been a huge surge in women joining political parties and organisations – SNP membership now stands at over 102,000 (44 per cent of which are women), while the Scottish Greens have quadrupled.

Less than a month after the ‘No’ result, my sister and I travelled to Perth for a thousand-strong Women for Independence conference. WFI now has 19,000 followers, with 53 affiliated groups throughout Scotland, many like my own, only established post-referendum.

Before 2014, I’d never been at a political meeting, let alone a coffee morning where an eminent female surgeon discussed NHS challenges while a hall-full of women munched scones and quick-fired questions at her. Yet soon, I was at it too. First, you pass a street stall, a meeting. You want to hear more, so you go to another. Because this awakening and getting hungry for knowledge is becoming important. Then you ask a question, and folk respond, and you think: ‘Here, I want my say too.’ Suddenly, I found myself speaking on behalf of Yes at public meetings. Me, a writer with no qualifications or stake in politics, apart from that this was about me, and my daughters and the place we live.

As the referendum media beast demanded to be fed, female commentators appeared on late-night news like never before, women like Lesley Riddoch, Elaine C Smith, or the redoubtable Jeanne Freeman putting Andrew Neil straight - and none of them politicians. Creative women took to the streets and internet in their thousands: Scotland’s own Gaga, Lady Alba, stating her case with razor-sharp wit (and a couple of strategically-placed teacakes), a wheen of female bloggers like Burdzeyeview and Misssy M. They’re still there. Still talking.

Because Scotland will never be the same. In Nicola Sturgeon, we now have a female First Minister asserting: "If you’ve got a fairer society you’ve got a stronger economy. The two should go hand in hand" - articulating what many of us feel, but few parties offer. Sturgeon’s mantra has been ‘consensus’, and her cabinet, which holds open meetings across Scotland, is 50/50 male and female.

Indeed, 35 per cent of our MSPs are women, all three leaders at Holyrood are women, as is our Presiding Officer. Against some resistance, the SNP membership has just voted through a policy on female-only shortlists. While some argue that positive discrimination is still discrimination, Sturgeon herself commented that, as women are 52 per cent of the population, "unless you think women are somehow less capable… if we had a merit-based system… we’d have gender-balance now."

Like her, I’ve changed my view. Going by last year, sometimes change comes slowly, sometimes there needs to be a seismic shift. However we achieve it, surely, the more we see politicians that are representative of ourselves, who look and talk like us, more importantly, live like us, the more we can relate to them?

And, in that referendum mirror last year, we did see ourselves. Throughout, women were listened to, in huge numbers. Friendships and networks were formed. As one delegate at Perth said, 'We’re not going back in our box.' In Scotland, nothing’s ‘in its box’ anymore. Politics is no longer for specific folk in certain places, it belongs to all of us, especially women.

The WFI groups springing up are autonomous; they cover everything from showing other women how to Tweet, to workshops on the economy, to highlighting that we still pay VAT on tampons. They’re about sharing information, understanding how politics and campaigning works - and how it can work for women. Edinburgh WFI drove a successful campaign to overturn a planned women’s prison by promoting rehabilitative alternatives, there’s women-focussed hustings, and cross-party commitment to the 50/50 campaign for more women in public life.

No matter which side we were on, the referendum taught us this: politics is about power: where it should lie, and how it should be used. About how accountable and transparent our democratic processes are – and could be yet. Crucially, all of us were included in that debate; we were able to question, scrutinise and challenge arguments offered to us. By ‘going back in our box’, relinquishing this demand to be informed and be heard, we hand the power back too. Which may suit some politicians. Passive voters close off those spaces for discussion, where we insist on facts, not assertions.

We could return to eating cereal (for those outwith Scotland, please Google ‘BT Lady’…) and leave politics to the big boys. But why? At no point do we tell our children: "Enough thinking for yourself." A participative, inclusive electorate is an asset we must never lose. Ultimately, the only box that counts is the one we mark with a cross. That way, we all win.