The suffragette Emily Wilding Davison has been commemorated with a statue more than 100 years after the final act which martyred her.
On 4th June 1913, Emily Wilding Davison was knocked down by the King’s horse at the Epsom Derby. The suffragette died soon after from her injuries. Eight years since the centenary of her death, the Emily Davison Memorial Project has finally succeeded in erecting a statue of her in Epsom’s town centre.
Aptly, the motto of the Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU), who campaigned tirelessly and disruptively for women’s suffrage, was “Deeds, not words”. I spoke with the artist Christine Charlesworth about her bronze statue, which links Emily indefinitely to her final deed, despite her life full of education and activism. “She died in Epsom,” Christine admitted, “but I want this to be Emily living on in Epsom.” She explained how the statue invites onlookers to approach Emily, as she is seated on a bench, rather than standing. Her arms are open in gesture, her mouth smiling, eager to talk, and a pile of books and her graduation cap lie next to her.
“I didn’t like the idea of her ending her life in a wilful way… It was an accident.”
We discussed how the discourse surrounding Emily’s death distracts from her other achievements. “I didn’t like the idea of her ending her life in a wilful way,” Christine reflected on Emily’s intentions: “It was an accident.” In fact, before the Derby, Emily had been practising hanging sashes on horse’s bridles as they cantered in Morpeth. Many, including Christine and Emily’s descendants, now believe that she intended to hang a WSPU sash on the King’s horse, rather than commit suicide. “She had tickets to go to a dance that night. She was going over to France to stay with her sister who had just had a baby,” Christine explained, “This was not planned.”
I asked Sarah Dewing, the Founder and Chair of the Emily Davison Memorial Project, whether it mattered what Emily’s intentions were, since the impact of her action was the same. “I think that’s the wrong way to look at it,” Sarah replied, “There is hardly any, if any evidence, that she intended to kill herself. I think that was a spin put out by the established media at the time.” Emily and other suffragettes were depicted as insane to leave their home, their children and their husbands to demonstrate. “If you believe that she wanted to martyr herself, that calls into question her sanity,” Sarah considered, “It takes the validity out of the campaign by just saying they’re mad.”
Ultimately, we can never know whether Emily intended to die, but we can look beyond the press which vilified her at the time. Emily fought for women’s places in the political sphere. Before Epsom, Emily devotedly defended the suffragettes by writing nearly 200 letters in response to over 50 newspapers. Her demonstrations, which included setting post-boxes on fire, breaking windows and twice hiding inside Parliament, were designed not to hurt anyone. She was arrested nine times, often went on hunger-strike, and was force-fed 49 times. Force-feeding, now considered a form of torture, permanently damaged Emily’s teeth and paralysed part of her face. Previously, her smile had been described as one that could light up a room.
“The fact that there was nothing significant to her was a gross omission.”
Christine believes Emily would not have wanted to be remembered as an angry woman, “She did bold things, but certainly not in a hateful way.” Sarah, likewise, understands why the suffragettes resorted to violent action, “A lot of the times she was arrested, it was just for protesting. We have that issue today.” She added, “If people feel strongly and they are ignored, you’re going to end up with direct action of some kind.” I asked Sarah why Epsom only commemorated Emily 108 years after her death: “The fact that there was nothing significant to her was a gross omission. It took that change of perspective and a bit more detail for Epsom to start seeing her as an asset rather than a liability.”
Having lived in Epsom all my life, I often wonder how Emily’s political cause compares to modern feminism. A plaque commemorates her death on the corner of the racetrack; flowers are often laid there for her. I go to the Old Cottage Hospital where Emily died, now my own GP service, to pick up my contraceptive pill. How would Emily react to the life I lead now?
Inevitably, the cause of a white, middle class, educated woman from the start of the 20th century differs from much of feminism today. Emily’s strong religious beliefs might have barred her from supporting my contraceptive pill. Intersectionality wasn’t in the dictionary. Emily adamantly believed in the sanctity of marriage, which she considered ‘a solemn and holy contract’ when sacrifice and respect was shared equally. She similarly agreed that women’s roles as homemakers were important, because women had the duty (or rather power) of raising the next generation.
“Politics are everyday entering more and more into the home, therefore women must enter politics.”
Yet despite these variations, Emily’s feminism paved the way for movements to come. For example, in addition to the importance of marriage, Emily also advocated that the private and public spheres shouldn’t be mutually exclusive. “Politics are everyday entering more and more into the home,” she wrote to The Yorkshire Weekly Post in 1911, “therefore women must enter politics.” As a defence of motherhood, Emily correlated the decline of infant mortality rates in Australia and New Zealand to the recent women’s suffrage there. She also defended the fierce “maternal instinct” of the suffragettes, writing to The Sunday Times: “It is because they want to give their own children a better chance when they grow up that they are determined in the fight”.
Although the suffragettes were not diverse, Emily wholeheartedly believed that women’s rights benefited the whole of humanity. She insisted her crusade was for ‘the whole human race’ and ‘necessary for evolution’. Unlike her American counterparts campaigning for “white women only”, Emily condemned the dehumanisation of racism in America, comparing the fight of Angelina and Sarah Grimké to her own cause in her essay for the WSPU newspaper, Votes for Women. Emily knew everyone deserved the status of full humanity. In 1928, all women became eligible to vote.
Nearly 100 years later, the UK has seen two female Prime Ministers and currently the House of Commons is 34% female. 9.61 million women are working full-time and 5.88 million part-time. Today more students in higher education are female than male. Emily herself was never permitted to graduate from either of her degrees, because she was a woman. We should be grateful for the rights which have been afforded to us by the actions of Emily and others, because – despite remaining obstacles – women’s lives today are undoubtedly better than in 1913.
Why is Emily relevant to modern feminists? “Women who also feel strongly about inequality are still fighting those battles today, like Emily,” Sarah discussed, “It’s just that the battles have changed.” She added: “Her determination is something young women today can learn from.”
So, regardless of the nuances of Emily’s feminism, it is her resilient advocacy for equality, which should make her resonate with generations of women to come. Or in Christine’s words: “God, she had some pluck.”
Lara Wildenberg
Featured image courtesy of Caroline Attwood on Unsplash. Image license found here. No changes were made to this image.
