Global feminism is like a tangle of cables, intertwined in complex knots. Those cables bind us to one another, transmitting our struggles in fractions of seconds. I have female friends who are Polish and Irish and American, and how they are treated by their home countries matters to me. But my solidarity stretches further than that, and is underpinned by a sort of simmering anger. I cried for American women when Ruth Bader Ginsburg died, and I applauded with joy for Irish women (and later, thank God, for Northern Irish women too) when abortion was legalised there. I stand with Polish women, because their fight is also our fight: it’s a fight to be recognised as fully human, and to obtain the rights that come with that.
The entire conversation is about what is a human – is a fetus? At which point in development is it? – that accrues rights. It is, of course, entirely possible to differ over what that answer is. But you do have to have an exceptionally tin ear to put it the way Rhiannon just has done.