Back to the future: 1979-1989
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Women get it together in Northern Ireland

A decade of activism amidst the politics of the Troubles

Essay

1979 marked a decade of 'the Troubles' in Northern Ireland. Official records documented 25,127 shootings, 5,123 bomb explosions, 5,927 armed robberies and 1,683 'Troubles-related' deaths between 1972-1979.

These figures were without mention being made of the operation of Internment without Trial, the numbers of injured and / or bereaved and prisoners sentenced for politically motivated offences that were even then engaged in a protracted struggle for recognition of political status. This beleaguered region of the UK was indeed troubled, notwithstanding a British Government decision in the mid 1970s to set the meta-narrative as an aggravated crime wave rather than political violence. This became termed as 'normalisation, Ulsterisation and criminalisation' — i.e. Northern Ireland was a normal society suffering from criminality that would be dealt with by Ulster policing. The heavy presence of British troops on the streets and the irritating buzz of low flying helicopters conveyed a different story at local level.

When Mrs Thatcher was wafted into 10 Downing Street in May 1979, she inherited a Northern Ireland that was being politically managed through Direct Rule from London. A Secretary of State, and attendant Ministers of State, were appointed by the Thatcher Government with the Belfast outpost often being seen as the ministerial Gulag for the alleged 'wets' of the new administration. James Prior served as one of a series of Secretaries of State. Chris Patton had a productive tour of duty in the early 1980s as a Minister and Richard Needham single-handedly directed the economy and the environment in the late 1980s. Local political representation was in cold storage, although this did little to prevent sectarian taunts and finger pointing within the ineffectual local authority chambers.

The politics of the 1980s was bracketed by the IRA Hunger Strikes in 1981 (preceded by an escalating series of protests to achieve political status for prisoners), the Anglo-Irish Agreement between the British and Irish Governments in 1986 which infuriated Unionists, and an increasingly divided community by 1990 despite the commencement of still deniable back-channel tentative talks with non-state armed actors. Over the first decade of the Troubles more than 97,000 people had packed their bags and departed, with unemployment standing at 13.4 per cent and rising (in 1978). By 1990, almost half of Northern Ireland's 1.5 million population were living in areas that were more than 90 per cent. Protestant or 95 per cent Catholic. Less than 110,000 people lived in areas with equal numbers of residents drawn from the two main communities. Defensive territoriality was on the rise, heralded by the push-pull of a mutually exclusive PUL (Protestant / Unionist / Loyalist) and CNR (Catholic / Nationalist / Republican) politics. Ethnic minorities? Yes, there were some 14,000 — mainly Chinese and South Asian. It was not uncommon for the question to be put 'Are you a Catholic or a Protestant Muslim?'.

The political turmoil and community disruption in this small region did give rise to the positive phenomenon of a very vibrant civil society. A 1975 university study estimated that there was one community group per 3,000 head of the population. The vast majority of these were active in economically deprived areas which also experienced a disproportionate impact of the violence. Community action allowed cross-community contact, and the locally-based Northern Ireland Voluntary Trust (later re-named the Community Foundation for Northern Ireland) helped organise a major conference in March 1980, 'Community Work into the 80s' which drew together a wide representation of community activists from both PUL and CNR areas. Voluntary organisations (NGOs) also expanded in response to the ever greater attention focused on social needs and poor facilities. Amongst these were organisations such as Women's Aid, the Northern Ireland Women's Rights Movement and local women's groups.

The Women's Movement finds its voice

Working in a politically contested society often results in issues such as women's rights, disability rights or indeed, minority ethnic identity issues, being viewed as a distraction from the dominant struggle. That focused on the constitutional question. An early focus on civil rights ('One man one vote', 'One family one house' and 'One man one job') sidelined the more explicit priority given to a range of feminist issues that were articulated by the NIWRM (Northern Ireland Women's Rights Movement) established in 1975. It was soon highlighted that legislation in Northern Ireland with regard to divorce, reproductive rights, the rights of victims of domestic violence were Victorian in content and tone (and in the case of reproductive rights, remain so to this day — 2019).

The local political system was strongly influenced by one of the few areas where there was cross-community consensus amongst the conservative Church institutions that predominated in the region. Any perceived concession to 'women's rights' was all too often viewed as an attack on the nature of society. Organisations such as the Northern Ireland Women's Aid Federation (refuges were established in the late 1970s) and the Women's Law & Research Group began to lobby for legal change. Papers were prepared, petitions were submitted and politicians were lobbied. Direct action also took the form of picketing court hearings and mobilising mass protests to demand the release of a victim of incest who was imprisoned for killing her father. A Rape Crisis Centre was established in Belfast; the Family Planning Association began to speak about the needs of women with unplanned pregnancies and links were made with feminist activists from Britain and the Republic of Ireland — although the 1980s was a dark decade for women's rights south of the Border as well.

Demands for societal change elicited a range of reactions. There were those Republican activists who argued that 'You need to build the house before you can furnish it' — i.e. achieve a united Ireland and then talk about the furnishings such as women's rights (the response of one woman was 'Aye, and we'll still be in the kitchen!). There was the reluctance of some women from the Unionist community to be seen to be making demands on 'their' British Government for fear that they might be seen as being critical of the status quo. There were women in local communities that were struggling to survive both the impact of the conflict and increasing levels of poverty who saw any discussion of 'rights' as a middle-class luxury; and there were women whose main focus was on career progression, with 'rights' only becoming an issue when they personally experienced a barrier or a glass ceiling.

Within local communities, there was still a range of needs to be addressed by those women who were often balancing enforced single parenthood through the imprisonment of male partners and relatives; dealing with the trauma of bereavement or the care of the injured; seeking to prevent children from becoming caught up in the on-going violence; responding to community expectations and struggling to cope with inadequate incomes increasingly the target of UK Conservative Government cuts. Local self-help women's groups came together to talk things through and offer mutual support in the single-identity areas where people lived, defined by 10-foot-high 'peace walls' in Belfast. In 1981 a landmark initiative saw the establishment of the Women's Information Group (WIG), with the simple, but courageous aspiration to bring together the local women's groups on a monthly basis, to discuss matters that the women were felt were a priority.

The Women's Information Day

The Women's Information Day met initially in 'neutral' venues in order to attract women from single-identity Catholic and Protestant communities. The women then took the decision to rotate their monthly meetings between community venues in Nationalist / Republican and Unionist / Loyalist areas. The format was straight forward — transport, childcare and a lunch was provided. The women met up with one another, prioritised a topic that external speakers were invited to speak on and shared information. One of the women involved spoke of how — 'The Information Days gave women the chance to go into another area, because even just crossing the road the colour of the flag changes, the (wall) murals change, a different type of gunman is up (on the walls), the curb stones be a different colour, and that alone can put a fear into women — the fear that they're not in their own territory. We can overcome that at Information Days, and we do. The houses are not much different in shape or size from one end to the other, and the rents are the same as well; the same problems.' One of the consequences of living in largely single-identity communities was the emergence of stereotypes about 'the other', often seeing the latter as privileged. What the Women's Information Day initiative found out was by actually visiting a different area stereotypes could be challenged and contacts forged.

The fact that large numbers of community-based women were prepared to come together month after month was tribute to an organising patience and sensitivity. This was seen as a long-term initiative, developed and implemented at the pace considered appropriate by the participants themselves. The meetings were held on a monthly basis irrespective of the latest disruptive atrocity, because to stop the meetings for one particular atrocity would give rise to questions about why that one and not another? One of those involved explained — 'Because there were always tragedies, always catastrophes, so you couldn't really stop.' Acknowledgement of any one atrocity would require the judgement of Solomon as to what events should be recognised and when. The meetings were not without drama and tension, however, as a Catholic woman recalled during a WIG gathering in loyalist Rathcoole — 'I remember well we were sitting in Rathcoole, in the Youth Club in Newtownabbey … and the windows were up high … and they had blinds up … And somebody passing had a thing over his shoulder — a piece of wood. But I reckon you could tell every Catholic in the room because it looked like a gunman was dandering past all the windows'. There was the inevitable apprehension when safety was defined by accustomed territory.

When the stalwart WIG Organiser, Kathleen Feenan, saw a fall-off in attendance by women from a specific community background, she would be on their doorstep with an apple tart in hand, waiting to be invited in for tea so that she could check whether there were any problems that needed to be addressed in a proactive manner. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the women prioritised the issues that they wanted to discuss — mainly social and economic rather than Troubles-related issues. An Information Day focus on the Thatcherite welfare cuts saw the women taking the decision to travel to London to lobby at 10 Downing Street. Names were put in a hat to select the delegation. The latter was composed of representatives from both Catholic and Protestant areas. The Northern Ireland Voluntary Trust provided a small grant to pay for the plane tickets; for most of the women on the delegation it was the first time they had ever been on an airplane.

While the official WIG programme addressed issues such as the cost of school uniforms, rising rent charges and dealing with problems of debt and money-lending, women exchanged experiences and views about the impact of the violence on an informal one-to-one basis. In this way potentially divisive issues became humanised. Ideas were shared, sympathy elicited and understanding promoted. Undoubtedly there was still little agreement over the macro-political issues, but space was created to engage at a personal level. Understanding of 'the other' community experience could also prove useful on a functional basis. During one protest march to the Northern Ireland Stormont Parliament building, women from the Protestant community approached the RUC (Northern Irish police) to get permission for the march, whilst women from the Nationalist/Republican made the placards — each community playing to its own strength.

The Women's Movement becomes a sector

In 1985, a book was edited on 'Women and Community Work in Northern Ireland' highlighting the range of initiatives that had developed over the first half of the decade. The list below charts the growth in what was now being called the 'Women's Sector'. It includes details of the different initiatives established each year, and the nature of the development of each initiative.

  • 1958 — Federation of Women's Institutes NI — in the traditional women's sector.
  • 1975 — Northern Ireland Women's Rights Movement — a feminist initiative linked to UN Decade of Women.
  • 1976-1980 — Northern Ireland Women's Aid — in response to domestic violence issue.
  • 1980s — Community-based Women's groups — largely in single-identity areas.
  • 1981 — Women's Information Group — networking local groups across Belfast.
  • 1982 — Derry Women's Centre — for multi-purpose support.
  • 1983 — Falls Women's Centre — in Catholic/Nationalist/Republican area of Belfast.
  • 1983 — Women's Education Project (Women's Resource & Development Agency) — regional support infrastructure for the Womens' Sector.
  • 1984 — Ballybeen Women's Centre — in Protestant/Unionist/Loyalist area of East Belfast.
  • 1984 — YouthAction (NI) Girls/Young Women's Unit — specific focus within Youth Sector organisation.
  • 1987 — Shankill Women's Centre — in Protestant/Unionist/Loyalist area of Belfast.
  • 1988 — Rural Women's Group in South Armagh — development in rural areas.
  • 1990 — Women's Support Network — linking Women's Centres in Northern Ireland.
  • 1992 — Fermanagh Women's Network — spread of women's work in rural areas.
  • 1993 — Training for Women's Network — organisational infrastructure support.
  • 1994 — Women into Politics — work with community-based women's groups.
  • 1996 — Northern Ireland Women's Coalition — established as a political party.

The list charts a range of high points rather than seeking to capture the full range of centres and initiatives established. There was also the spread to the Women's Health Movement which included Well Woman Centres as well as activism focused primarily on facilities for babies and young children given the poor range of affordable childcare facilities in Northern Ireland. Overall, however, there was a clear dynamic with women becoming involved in local groups and initiatives that spoke to immediate needs, such as debt advice or childcare issues; then becoming active collectively and at a later stage receiving support from infrastructural organisations and networks to interlink with other areas and issues.

The local group remained at the core of the expanding sector and could come together in different ways. In Crossmaglen (South Armagh), women from the altar flower arranging group joined forces with young feminists to have enough numbers to warrant a free WEA (Workers' Education Association) tutor for a discussion group in the late 1980s, whilst in the deprived Divis area of West Belfast, a Dolly Mixtures women's theatre group was named after the practice of women throwing in the range of anti-depressants that they had been prescribed to deal with the personal trauma of death, injury and imprisonment. The group scripted a play that featured local women going to their doctor — 'A women goes to the doctor and she says, 'Doctor I need to talk to you' — you know. 'My son is in prison and …' And the doctor would say as if it was a mantra, 'Librium and Valium take one with every meal, and every day, and all your troubles will go away'. And no matter what — and then another woman would come in and she would say, 'The son's broken his leg and the wee girl's pregnant', and whatever 'Librium and Valium … There was at that time an awful lot of over prescription … and certainly in Divis Flats … because of the dire nature of the place a lot of women lived on tranquilisers.' Another dramatic production ridiculed the Northern Ireland Housing Executive (the agency responsible for social housing at the time) for its insistence that damp in the flats was really condensation, solved by keeping the windows open. It was perhaps not helpful that the highest block of these high-rise flats was crowned by a British Army base served by helicopters due to the strong Republican sympathies of the surrounding area. In a Northern Ireland undergoing a government-defined aggravate crime wave there were few facilities put in place to deal with the impact of the on-going violence.

The complexity of struggling for personal identity in the increasingly divergent communities that comprised Northern Ireland is also reflected in a poem penned by Pat Turner, a member of the Cregagh Women's Writing Group in East Belfast, called 'The Spell Weavers'. Pat reflects on both her own identity and the burden of the green uniform shirt of her RUC police officer that she was ironing:

The Tale of his Shirt
Stretched across the board
The vast greenness spreads
Before me
Its aerial view
A series of fine lines and borders
It's when I observe
It's then I am challenged
As I see the faded outlines
Where sweat and tears
Once soiled the landscape.
The power in my hand
I smooth a lifetime of creased Irish greenness
And under my own steam
Make a whole in the fog,
Releasing the blur on my vision
And as I create the dividing lines
For arms that will carry arms
I tear away the labels
And trace seams it seems
Were handmade — man-made
As I wander up and down
The front link past tinker and tailor
Finding myself
In the company of poor man,
Wishing for beggar man or thief,
Wishing for smoothness.
A chance to hand
This Green Burden up.

This reflective potential of the arts and drama was seen as particularly important in a violently contested society where the mantra was all too often 'whatever you say, say nothing'. Many womens groups benefitted from the Community Arts Award Scheme through which the Northern Ireland Voluntary Trust offered small grant awards.

Reflection that critiqued dominant community narrative and control was, needless to say, not always welcome. A community worker in the predominantly Loyalist area of Tullycarnet explained: 'At that time you know, everything was still very volatile really. People weren't travelling much, they really weren't. Even to go down the road in East Belfast was still seen as quite a big journey … And I felt it was important that other ideas and people came to visit the area as well.' However the introduction of difference had to be carefully negotiated. When a local woman used the term 'Fenian' in a derogatory sense, the community worker invited a Queen's University History lecturer to explain the origins of the term at a local Women's Group meeting. The discussion came to the attention of the local paramilitaries — 'That got back to the boys (Ulster Defence Association) who said 'I hear you've got some interesting history lessons going on'. And I was saying, 'Yes, just picking up on some of the interest you know'. And it was like — 'Yes, well we heard about it.' And I thought, hmmm … It was just the way they did it; I think actually being female I probably got off with quite a lot in many ways because I didn't appear threatening, so there was a bit of that, but there was also — and we're keeping an eye on you, you know.' Even within the women's sector there was always the politics of unintended consequences.

Handbags at the ready

Thatcherism brought with it a political and economic determinism, with the Northern Ireland Housing Executive instructed to sell off 190,000 houses in line with Tory privatisation policies, Margaret Thatcher adopting a no compromise line in the face of prisoner hunger strikes and community and trade union campaigners taking to the streets to oppose welfare cuts. Women formed the backbone of opposition to school closures; agit prop street theatre became a regular protest tool and door-to-door welfare benefit take-up campaigns were organised to squeeze essential family income out of a reluctant state. In July 1982, a number of Orange Order lodges sported placards with the non-traditional demand of 'Give Us Jobs' during the traditional 12 July marches. Registered unemployment in Northern Ireland had reached 17.6 per cent of the working population, and was rising. Campaigning became the sine qua non of activist community and single issue groups.

Indignation ran high in the Derry air one evening when the Northern Ireland Electricity Service implemented a policy of disconnections in the Rossville Flats, plunging several homes into darkness during a particularly gripping exercise of the TV drama 'Dallas'. Anxious viewers caught on the hop rushed along the connecting balconies to watch neighbour's television sets before organising a protest. The nature of local organising was explained by a West Belfast woman: 'I think a lot of it was in local areas — at that stage people just knocked on your door and said 'We need you to do such and such, will you come out?' … You know, there was a lot more word of mouth at that stage as opposed to 'Oh, we'll set up a committee'. I think people just said — 'This needs to be done', and natural leaders just emerged all over the place … It was even, such and such has a car; or such and such knows how to get a minibus, or a telephone, or such and such is married on to such and such … And because communities were so close-knit at that stage too … '

This work continued to operate primarily within single identity communities which also saw the opening of a number of multi-purpose women's centres — predominantly in urban settings. The coordinator of an early women's centre in Derry recalled: 'You don't connect with people except where they are themselves — wherever it takes people in their individual lives'. Educational courses, with childcare attached, proved to be very popular, in this case attracting over 300 women each week. The initial location of the centre in a run-down inner-city terrace house meant that the coordinator had to light the fire every morning and organise evening fundraising events, where supporters were offered a glass of wine in exchange for a donation. With basic maths it was calculated that if people contributed a minimum of 50 pence each, then the rent could be paid. Support was later forthcoming from charitable trusts, such as the Northern Ireland Voluntary Trust and the Joseph Rowntree Charitable Trust before Derry City Council found its way to support the venture.

In Outer Belfast, the Castlereagh Borough Council supported a women's centre in Ballybeen, which involved a council neighbourhood worker who saw the centre as being 'Really quite innovative at that time'. However a change in political control of the Council (to Democratic Unionist Party control) heralded difficulties: 'Women's groups were just seen as radical and troublemakers and all that sort of thing and … it was very difficult to get funding for them'. It became increasingly clear that the worker also had to watch her step: — 'I remember a few of us started attending the Council meetings because actually they were open but nobody ever went, so it was part of the Women's Group seeing how decisions were made in Council. And so down we traipsed and the councillors didn't know what to do with us, didn't know how to react to us … and we'd have our tea in a china cup and it was all very sort of nice. But then after we'd been a couple of times they really got quite worried about it; maybe felt quite threatened by it, and the chief recreation officer was then despatched to speak to me about why this was happening. And I was explaining about it, you know — community education sort of angle … I did see that they weren't that happy … and that was then when workers … (had) to take a back seat.' Notwithstanding the difficulties, the number of women's centres expanded, forming a network — the Women's Support Network — across the community divides. Political divisions, however, were never far beneath the surface of networking around practicalities and shared concerns.

The continued violence over the course of the Thatcher years meant that there were pressures for communities to take comfort in clustered around 'their' narrative, within 'their' areas. Support for cross-community activities could be all too easily interpreted as a signifier of uncertain loyalty as experienced by a long-term community activist in the Springmartin area of Belfast who received a phone call from a paramilitary group just before Christmas advising her not to bother buying a turkey because she wouldn't be around to eat it — 'I said, 'That's alright, I don't like turkey anyway'. The alignment of perception and power (particularly if the latter was felt to be challenged) could be a lethal combination.

Women's Coalition at the peace talks

The late 1980's, into the turn of the decade, was a grim period, although 'deniable talks' were taking place that eventually resulted in both Republican and Loyalist ceasefires in the Autumn 1994. While Prime Minister Thatcher reluctantly gave way to John Major, new possibilities opened up in Northern Ireland. Participative democracy became the order to the day although regarded askance by established political parties. Elections to peace talks were announced in 1996; women activists had been having discussions about the lack of political representation of women. Grasping the opportunity of the cleverly crafted electoral system (designed to ensure that small Loyalist parties would be represented at the peace talks), a number of women took the initiative to launch a political party — the Northern Ireland Women's Coalition (NIWC).

The slogan on their committee-designed election poster was 'Say Goodbye to Dinosaurs', emblazoned in green, white and violent suffragette colours, with the picture of a cartoon dinosaur. Male politicians were not amused and one was overheard complaining at the election count: 'Say goodbye to dinosaurs and hello to dragons!'. The NIWC had been set up a mere six weeks before the election, but structured a coalition (instead of using the term 'Party') based on three core principles — equality, human rights and inclusion. It adopted a shared leadership — one woman from the Catholic / Nationalist community and one from the Protestant / Unionist community to project its cross-community and inclusive ethos. It refused to be bound by the traditional constitutional 'question' but instead offered new thinking that focused on social and economic issues, as well as redressing disadvantage and inequality and offering voice to those most adversely impacted by the conflict.

The Northern Ireland Women's Coalition successfully returned two elected representatives to the peace talks that were to result in the Belfast / Good Friday Agreement in 1998. As one of the 90 candidates that stood to garner the necessary catchment of votes noted: 'We can run a kitchen table election campaign'. This proved true — but Coalition activists also brought all the experience drawn from the two previous decades of work in local communities, the Trade Union Movement and the earlier Civil Rights Movement. The experience was both cumulative but also edgy, with approaches that differentiated the Coalition from established political parties welcomed. The response from male politicians was less than encouraging, with one DUP elected representative telling Monica McWilliams — one of the Coalition leaders — to 'Go home and breed for Ulster', to to the smirks of a number of his party colleagues. In response, Pearl Segar — the twin NIWC leader — offered a rendition of 'Stand by your Man'. Local political correspondents had to find a whole new lexicon to compensate for a 'Belfast Telegraph' sub-editor who headlined the electoral success of the Women's Coalition as 'The Hen Party leaves the Nest in Style'.

Not all women activists were happy with the move from small 'p' politics of community-based activism into the capital 'P' politics of peace negotiations. Many women had prior Party political affiliations that retained their allegiance. What the Coalition did offer, however, was dedicated women's representation to ensure that women's voices were heard in structural, social and political change. It won a key ally when the Blair Government appointed the first-ever female Secretary of State, Mo Mowlam, in 1997. When civil servants attempted to block access to the Secretary of State, given that the Coalition was a small Party without weapons, a code was established to allow back channel briefings between Mo and Coalition representatives in the ladies' loo. Well, whatever it takes. Was the outcome worth the struggle and abuse? The Coalition did get commitments inserted into the Agreement on support for community development, integrated education and housing, support for victims of violence as well as recognition that much more needed to be done to ensure adequate representation of women in decision-making. It also championed a Civic Forum as an advisory second chamber. The longer-term implementation of these commitments still leaves much to be desired.

No longer invisible or silent

The Women's Movement of the 1980s ensured that issues were grounded in the lived experience of local communities which included the ongoing experience of the Troubles as well as those community and socio-economic issues that were of the time. Single-issue advocacy served to develop insights and expertise on specific areas of concern such as domestic violence, women's health, rape and incest, as well as the position of women in both the workplace and in terms of legal rights. There was little, or no, dedicated political party energy invested in many of these issues until the latter part of the 1990s, and then often in response to the priorities of the Northern Ireland Women's Coalition. Even then, greater attention was often given to the views of church representatives than to that of women's organisations.

However what was achieved was increased visibility of issues. The woman who died as a result of a back-street abortion in Belfast in the late 1970s was no longer invisible. Women who spoke about women's rights might still be controversial, but they were no longer silent. What had in past years been cast as individual shame became the stuff of collective indignation and protest. The fact that this is still required in Northern Ireland is now highlighted by the societal changes south of the Border. Three decades since the 1980s, a new generation of women are mobilising for change.

See also:

Further reading

  • 'Against the Grain: Contemporary Women's Movement in Northern Ireland' by E Evason (sl: Attic Press, 1991).
  • 'Community Action in a Contested Society: The Story of Northern Ireland' by Avila Kilmurray (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2017) [Available as a National Library of Scotland ebook].
  • 'Community Work in a Divided Society' by H Frazer (Belfast: Farset Press, 1981) [Shelfmark: QP2.85.977].
  • 'Making Sense of the Troubles: The Story of the Conflict in Northern Ireland' by D McKittrick and D McVea (Belfast: Blackstaff Press, 2000) [Shelfmark: Q3.201.0907].
  • 'People Power? The Role of the Voluntary and Community Sector in the Northern Ireland Conflict' by F Cochrane & S Dunn (Cork: Cork University Press, 2002) [Shelfmark: Q3.202.2128].
  • 'Shattering Silence: Women, Nationalism and Political Subjectivity in Northern Ireland' by B Aretxaga (Princeton, NJ: Chichester: Princeton University Press, 1997) [Shelfmark: QP2.98.1584].
  • 'The Space Between Us — Negotiating Gender and National Identities in Conflict' by C Cockburn (London: Zed Books, 1998) [Shelfmark: Q3.99.2895].
  • 'Women and Community in work Northern Ireland' edited by M Abbott and H Frazer (Belfast: Farset Press, 1985) [Shelfmark: QP2.85.1001].
  • 'Women divided: Gender, religion and politics in Northern Ireland' by R Sales (London: Routledge, 1997) [Shelfmark: Q3.98.281].
  • 'Women, unionism and loyalism in Northern Ireland : from 'tea-makers' to political' actors' by R Ward (Dublin: Irish Academic Press, 2006) [Shelfmark: PB8.207.53/8].
  • 'Women's Work: A Story of The Northern Ireland Women's Coalition' by K Fearon (Belfast: Blackstaff Press, 1999) [Shelfmark: QP2.200.1481].

 

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