Last week, I was asked why I wasn't running in the general election. I answered without hesitation: “Because I don't want to die.” I could see from the look on the reporter's face as he asked me that my honesty in explaining why I wasn't running was a shock to him and the three other men in the room. But it shouldn't be. It's not only difficult for women to make it in politics today, it's extremely dangerous.
Seven years ago I stood in the general election for the Women's Equality Party, a left-of-centre party that campaigned for equality at the heart of the country. You'd think that would be inoffensive, but unfortunately my rejection of two mainstream parties drew a lot of attention and attack in the leafy London constituency where I was standing.
At campaign events, people would gather to shout at me for daring to stand up. This was fine; I thought I could handle a few jerks shouting at me. But when the death threats started coming in, it became harder to cope. It still hurts to remember those dark days when I would crawl out of bed and onto the streets of North London for another day of campaigning. Having faced backlash in the past for my work on FGM, I knew how to talk myself into acting as if everything was OK, even when deep down I knew I could lose my life at any moment just for standing up for women and girls.
The fear I felt then, and being left so vulnerable in a community that was not my own, is an experience I will never forget and why I am afraid to re-enter politics. In the past eight years, we have seen the murder of two MPs, the imprisonment of individuals for threatening multiple MPs, and incidents of arson, broken windows, online threats and more. Despite this, ridicule and neglect still occur when primarily female MPs need or want to tighten their security.
In this general election, only 30% of candidates were women, setting a dark precedent for the future.
Last week, Labor candidate Rosie Duffield withdrew from the campaign because she felt unsafe, which was understandable to anyone who saw what was posted about her on X. But her own party members and other MPs in her constituency seemed unwilling to take her concerns seriously. They criticised her on social media, saying it was “undemocratic” to not take part in a campaign when she felt unsafe.
She was right not to attend, and in fact our lack of concern for the safety of women candidates is undemocratic, because the threats against them are real and unrelenting.
Beyond my own experience and the experiences of others I have seen online, I have been with former Home Secretary Priti Patel and others who have been assaulted on the streets of London. Priti, Duffield and others are better than me because they did not give up in the face of abuse. They are standing in this election, they care about their community and they are fulfilling their duty not just to stand for election but to stand up for so many others.
It's great to see that, but it shouldn't be this way. You shouldn't have to exert special perseverance to be a woman who wants to take part in our democracy. If the polls are correct, there will be fewer female parliamentarians in our democracy this year than ever before. Figures from campaign group 50:50 Parliament show that just 30% of candidates in this election are women. This sets a bleak precedent for the country's future.
I am pessimistic because with the rise of far-right politicians, we need more progressive women in parliament, not fewer.
But we need to campaign for and with women like Duffield, Ms Pretty and the few of us who believe this country is better off because of women like Stella Creasy, who have also faced horrific abuse from anti-abortion activists.
And if you can't get out there physically to support them, send them love on social media or write them a letter, because I can speak for myself that receiving a kind message on the campaign trail can make an incredible difference to these women who deal with so many issues every day.
Nimko Ali is an activist and columnist for the Evening Standard.
