In 1977, a group of young women marched through Leeds to protest violence against women and girls, and to demand that public spaces be safe and welcoming for all. This “Reclaim the Night” march was the first of its kind in the UK and a hugely significant step for women’s liberation. We talk to some of the women who were on that first march and discover what happened next in Leeds.
Introduced by Ruth Steinberg
Interviews by Ruth Steinberg and Jaspreet Mander
Pictures by Jonathan Turner and Angela Phillips
Personally, I’ve always thought it’s nice to know our history. Part of my family’s history is that my Mum, Beulah, came over from St Kitts in the 1960s to work for the NHS in Leeds. So many black people did. Speaking to these NHS workers who came to Leeds from Africa and the Caribbean feels like opening a door that’s been closed for too long.
What strikes me most is that most of them said they started from basics. Some worked as cleaners, auxiliaries, others became qualified. But they worked. They worked the hardest shifts, sometimes the worst shifts, missing time with their families, pushing twice as hard as their white counterparts. Why did they do it? It’s because they cared. But they enjoyed the work, felt proud of it. And it makes me reflect on today, when so many midwives are off sick with stress. Something has changed.
That’s one of the reasons I set up my community interest company, Elders With Roots. I believe we should look after all our older people, especially those who contributed into the system and are now being overlooked, some even living in poverty. These stories are part of me, they’re something to tell our children and your grandchildren. And in sharing them now, we’re making sure they’re not lost. Through Elders With Roots, and through this People’s History project, their legacy lives on.
I was born in the beautiful island of St. Kitts in the Caribbean. I left St. Kitts in 1968 on the invitation of the British government to come to train as a nurse. Whilst I was in St. Kitts, I worked as a civil servant in the Prime Minister's office, as a short-time typist. But I got a bit restless, and I thought, “I would like to train as a nurse.” So when I found the advert for nursing in England, I jumped at the idea.
Of course, my parents didn't want me to come, because I was only 18, and my mum said it was too far to go. But I was determined. I did all the interviews and got to train as a state-registered nurse. I have this nature of helping, caring for other people. And I wanted to work with women, not necessarily men. I have six brothers, and they weren't easy to get on with. So I didn't really want to care for men. But I thought nursing would be for me.
I'm from a large family of 12; we had company and we played with each other. We didn't have friends, because we didn't need friends. But life was good, even though my brothers were a bit grumpy. I went hunting with them. They used to shoot birds, doves, and pigeons, because we could eat them. The boys didn't cook, I had to do the cooking. So when they shot the birds, I would have to clean them and cook them. We climbed trees, and we pitched marbles, and we played all sorts of games.
In the Caribbean, there is this phrase: the streets are paved with gold. England was portrayed as a beautiful country. Everybody forgot to talk about the weather. I came thinking it would be the same as the Caribbean; I came dressed in summer clothes. When we landed at Heathrow Airport and they opened the door I wanted to go straight back home. It was so cold. It was quite smoky. And when I spoke, the smoke was coming out of my mouth, and I was absolutely petrified. Now I know it was fog! I had a brother who was living in London, so he bought a big coat for me. It was about two sizes too big, but it was ideal because I could wrap myself in it.
I was disappointed when I looked for the streets of gold. There was no streets of gold in Hampshire. That's where I came to be trained. The training supposedly was for three years, but on the first day of school, we found out it was for only two, and that was for the State Enrolled nurses, which was a lesser qualification than State Registered. We were disappointed - angry. We went off to see the matron to ask for her to give us the reason. She told us, it's only for two years, and if we didn't consent to stay, well, we had no choice, she would deport us. Having said that, she confiscated our passports, so we were bound to that hospital for two years.
"It was quite spontaneous. A few women gave speeches. There was a great spirit of defiance. And determination. We all felt very strong and powerful".
Al Garthwaite
There were only two of us from the West Indies, but there were a number of Filipinas and Mauritius girls. We were all foreign. In Hampshire, the only black people you saw were us. There were no other black people living in Hampshire. But do you know, when I lived in Basingstoke, no racism. We were so welcomed there. I used to babysit for the indigenous population. No racism whatsoever.
During my training [in Hampshire] I was applying to hospitals around the country, and I found one in London - Central Middlesex - who then took me. I was the only person who was fortunate enough to get a vacancy in London, and they gave me a six-month reduction. So instead of training for another three years [it was] two-and-a-half years. Not much, but I was grateful.
There were black people in London, but I didn't have time to socialise because the training was different. It was more academic. You had books, you had to study, you had periodic exams. But I qualified. I only stayed around London for about three months because I wanted to be trained as a midwife. I was seconded to a maternity ward, and I was helping mothers when they were in labour. I thought, “this is my calling”. I was able to put them at ease and, although you weren't allowed to deliver anybody because you were a student, I helped them and they were grateful. So I applied to come North. I found a hospital in Leeds.
When I got to Leeds, I thought, “What a dump. I don't want to live up here!” However, I went to the Hyde Terrace Hospital, part of LGI, and moved into the nurses home there. It was in Leeds that I first encountered racism. I was taken aback. I was seconded to the community and my patch included Quarry Hill. The flats are now demolished. I would ring the bell and they'd look through their little spyhole, and they'd shout abusive language to me: “Don't want the likes of you in here!” Stuff like that. They wouldn't let me in.
I met this in hospital, in the Delivery Suite, where one gentleman refused me, he said, “Don't put your black hands on my wife.” That shocked me. I had to ask him, “Can you repeat it?” Because I wasn't clear what he was saying. He said, “We've come to this country to get away from the likes of you, and here you are.” He came from South Africa. I'm quite a laid-back person, but that upset me. So I went and I told this to my nursing officer, expecting her to read the riot act to him. She dismissed me out of the room and delivered the baby herself. I went home crying. I didn't see myself as black, and anybody else as white. I just saw us as who we are, you know. But then reality stepped in. I dealt with them sometimes with humour. One gentleman, said “I don't want the likes of you in here.” I said, “And why is this?” He said, “You people have come over here and take away our jobs.” So I said, “Oh, you wanted to be a midwife, did you?” He just looked at me with daggers.
"It wasn't the first demo or march we'd been on, so we were quite well versed in stretching a bit of fabric across a couple of poles and writing something on it. There were lots and lots of homemade banners and posters and some flaming torches. These were all hand produced. So beautiful, so witty."
Lou Lavender
I did my training for a year to be qualified as a midwife. I thoroughly enjoyed working at Hyde Terrace. One of the girls had a car and when we were off all night, the nine of us would pack into this Mini. The chap that I'd finally married, I met him at a party in Leeds. There were black and white people dancing. That's weird, because I'd never seen this. [The parties were] in houses in Chapeltown. They used to call them shabeens .So this week you'd go to a party on one street, next week you'd go to another street. It started at midnight and finished six o'clock in the morning. And sometimes I would just have a shower, go straight on duty. There was a big pub [in Chapeltown], the Hayfield. Whilst I was training, I was given a visit to go into the pub. It had a very bad reputation. I had my bag over my shoulder and I'm going towards the door to go and give care to a mother and baby. And these two gentlemen were sat on the wall and they started shouting, “Midwife, are you going for your first drink?” But, you know, I was safer in Chapeltown than in Gipton. Chapeltown was and is a lovely place to live.
I got this reputation from my colleagues that I over-cared, because I was in demand. If I visited another midwife's patient, the woman would say, “You're coming back tomorrow?” And I would say, “No, I'm handing you back to your midwife.” And they'd go, “Please don't.” I have a box full of pictures with babies and some named their babies after me. I just loved it. I was happy in what I was doing. I was a good midwife. When I had a home delivery, I just sat there and chatted with them. And when the time came, when the woman was ready to give birth, as long as she listened to what I was saying to her, we had a safe birth. And maybe one out of hundreds of deliveries that I've done, only one ended up in hospital. Because I never hurried. I never interfered. I just talked. I had my tea and coffee with them. It was like a family affair. What's important is the trust.
Leeds has changed an awful lot. I think it's for the better. You can get everything you need here in Leeds. I love Leeds. I am one of the lay leaders in the Moravian Church in Fulneck. I also am one of the stewards. I love it. There's only two black families in there. But when you go into the church, as it should be in life, you do not see colour. I just go in there and I felt at home. I was born into a poor family, but here I am. Here I am. And if I can make a change in one person's life, then that's what I'll do.
"Reclaim the Night is about women going out and having fun as women, and we're certainly not asking permission from men to do it. So, of course, we didn't ask police permission. We just did it."
Sandra McNeill
AL
Of course Leeds city centre at the time, on a Saturday night, it was not humming and throbbing with loads and loads of people and clubs and bars and everything, as it is now. It was a fairly deserted place. There would be groups of men perhaps coming out of the pubs. People coming back from a late train. But it was not a crowded place, it wasn't like it is now. We knew we'd be able to just walk through and hold a rally in City Square. And it would be fairly deserted.
We set off at 10 o'clock at night because that was the time when bad things particularly would happen. Between 30 and 40 of us from Chapeltown Community Centre and the same from Hyde Park. I was in the Chapeltown one. We convened outside Reginald Terrace and then walked down Chapeltown Road. One police officer turned up I think. A woman police officer. We walked down and we had leaflets to give to passers-by. There weren't many passers-by. As I say, nightlife was different then.
We were mainly white women. There were a couple of black women on the march. We were mainly aged in our late 20s to mid 30s. We met with general astonishment. No hostility. It was just so unusual for women to be protesting about anything. And then we walked down through the Sheepscar Intersection - which you wouldn't do these days. It was much quieter then. And up North Street. There's a pub called the Eagle on North Street. At that time it was very much a “men's pub”. Quite rough. As we passed the Eagle the men were just coming out. Closing time. And they saw a bunch of women walking along. And started towards us going, “Women get out of here!” We advanced on them with our flaming torches. And our slogans. And they shrank back. We were shouting the slogans which are still shouted today on Reclaim the Night marches: “However we dress, wherever we go, yes means yes and no means no!”; “Women Unite, Reclaim the Night!” I think we had a song as well.
We walked along Vicar Lane, along Boar Lane and into City Square. There we met the other march as well. It was quite spontaneous. A few women gave speeches. There was a great spirit of defiance. And determination. We all felt very strong and powerful. Someone had brought their car along so anyone who needed a lift home could get them. Someone else had organised a party at her house that night, so some of us went on up to the party and others went home. But we did take some care that no one should be going off on her own.
We'd made a splash, as much as we could. And that was that. But it wasn't that. People talk about a Reclaim the Night movement. We didn't think we'd started a movement. Spare Rib Magazine in the January of 1978 covered it and all the marches that had happened. But there was nothing in the Yorkshire Evening Post. Nothing in the Yorkshire Post.
LOU
It went on for a few years. And it was a sort of regular date and women got together. We were suffering from the police at the time. They were tapping our phones. To test it out, Al and I talked to each other on the phone about a Reclaim the Night march on a certain night. And lo and behold, the police and lots of police on horseback turned up at Hyde Park Corner on that night. But there wasn’t any march. Some women were reluctant to believe that the police would be that devious. We had no illusions about the Leeds Police or West Yorkshire Police at all. They were violent and slightly out of control.
Later, I talked to a retired policewoman who was one of the police called to the outside of that conference. But this woman, she said to me, we were absolutely terrified of you. Which had never occurred to me that the police would be frightened of us.
After that first march in 1977, several more took place, in Leeds and further afield. The feminist movement grew and started to have impact. Al Garthwaite decided that it wasn’t enough to march for women’s rights; she had to fight for justice within the corridors of power. She stood for election and became a councillor. Reclaim the Night had only just begun.
AL
It had lit a spark. Really. There was another one the following year. some women had said, “We can't come out in the depths of night. And we don't feel safe.” So there was one that took place more in the summer. But they carried on. In other countries and in Leeds as well. And then.
The murders that Peter Sutcliffe was committing were getting more and more publicity. He killed the final woman, Jacqueline, in Leeds in November 1980. There was a big march after that. That was started around 6.30 at night and of course it was dark. That was big and it was covered by the national media. Huge. We were very very angry about the police response, which was: “Women - stay in.” By the vice-chancellor at Leeds University's response, which was “Women - stay in.” It was absolutely appalling.
A lot more women were coming. What started as 30 women marching had grown to 500 women. You get over 2000. A lot more discussion. And talking about it in workplace. Lots of political discussions in workplaces from those who wouldn't go out and about. I think there was a general fear. Those who weren't involved were just frightened. But for those of us who were, it's very empowering to be active against oppression, whatever form that takes. It's always better to take action against something rather than sit there feeling helpless or powerless. Or afraid, depressed and miserable.
I myself and some of the others were completely caught up in it. I mean I had a job at the time. But I was young. I had loads of energy. Apart from going to work, this was what I did. I was living in a communal house. With other women. So it was a real powerhouse. And there were quite a lot of other women's houses. In the neighbourhood. And that was very powerful.
Peter Sutcliffe got caught. You know if he was the only man, you could attribute the claim of the night marches to him. They would have stopped then. But they didn't. There were a lot more that took place. And not just in Leeds. But all over. And gradually from the early 80s the message of feminism was becoming more mainstream.
Things were changing in Leeds. There were some quite young Labour councillors - Nan Sloan in particular - who were different from the mould. Women had to wear hats in the council chamber until sometime in the late 70s. It was just a very old fashioned. Things started to change. We were arguing for an equality unit and a women's unit within the city council. And that eventually took place.
And there were a lot of us on the women's committee, assisting, making policies and deciding on funding. Holding conferences on crimes against women. Women's Aid was getting proper funding from social services. Everything was changing and becoming much more mainstream at that time.
Not that it was solved. But instead of having to organise and have demonstrations, organising in our own homes or in smoky rooms and community centres, we were in the civic hall. And that is obviously better. Not that there's not still a need to be outside with the placards, but you need to be in there as well.
The Feminist Archive North holds original newsletters, song sheets and other ephemera from Reclaim the Night marches and other feminist activities and campaigns over the last 60 years. The picture above shows Sandra McNeill on a Reclaim the Night march in London. Sandra is third from the right holding the sign that says "Women Are Revolting".
LOU
There comes this realisation that it's kind of stopped. The women’s movement plateaued. Spare Rib has stopped. The newsletters stopped. The debates stopped. The conferences stopped.
SANDRA
Reclaim the Night restarted but dwindled. Then Finn Mackay started it again in London. And some women up here in Leeds restarted it here in Leeds in the noughties. Reclaim the Night is about women going out and having fun as women, and we're certainly not asking permission from men to do it. So, of course, we didn't ask police permission. We just did it. Now you have to have police permission and they have to march with you, and it's a bit more like a demo than a fun celebration, which it was in the beginning, it was really fun.
LOU
It wasn't exactly spontaneous because everybody had to do it at the same time, but there was a spontaneity and vitality.
We know [violence against women] is still going on, we know we haven't changed that much, but what is different is that women know it's not alright. Because it used to be that it was just domestic or it was your own fault for being out at night. What changed was the ethics of it, that it's not alright, that you can't go around doing this and if you do, then you're flying the flag of basic misogyny, aren't you?
I don't think it matters which bunch of women started off, the fact is that women read about other women doing it and at least going on the streets and saying, “You will not get away with it, we will fight back and we don't approve and it's not okay” It's such a basic step, isn't it, to say “No.”
Al, Sandra and Lou now work as volunteers at Feminist Archive North, based in the Brotherton Library at University of Leeds. The archive collects and archives materials that could easily be lost. As they state on their website: “The Women’s Liberation Movement was a major factor in social change. In our collections you can find out where ideas began, and how feminist politics were put into practice.” The women explain why the archive is important.
SANDRA
There was already a feminist archive in the South, to kind of preserve the ephemera, preserve newsletters, preserve conference papers, rather than books and artefacts. When Jalna Hamner started what became the Women's Studies Department in Bradford, she went to them and said, “Could she have some things that came from the North?” And she would start a Feminist Archive North. it was then based in what was the Women's Studies Department in Bradford University. There came a point in time where Jalna was leaving to join Leeds Polytechnic. Before she told them that she was moving out, she moved the whole of the feminist archive into the department in Leeds Poly.
We moved into the University of Leeds and we got a grant from Heritage Lottery Fund for a part-time archivist to work for us. And she taught us proper archiving skills and set up the archive properly. We did it as a library so that it would be easily accessible for the women's studies students. It's the third most used collection in Special Collections in the Brotherton Library.
LOU
I was absolutely not interested in archiving the women's movement. And I think it's because I was living it. You need the distance in time. Then you realise that this amazing flowering of talent and wit and design and words, creativity, was not normal. Because we were in the middle of it, we thought it was normal. It seems so natural. Yes, you'd have a full-time job, but of course you would go to some women's meeting every effing night.
SANDRA
FAN is here to preserve the actual conference papers, the actual things that were written, because the history gets distorted. For example, going back to the 70s, obviously I'd heard of the suffragettes. But I thought they were just campaigning for the vote, because that's what male historians told me.
And then we feminists started uncovering the history of those women. Their movement was as broad as ours. They were campaigning against rape in marriage. One of their big successes was raising the age of consent from 12 to 13, and then 13 to 16. Because of the large numbers of 12 and 13-year-old girls in prostitution, hanging around the House of Commons. They had these big campaigns around domestic violence, around women's health. Their big issue, of course, was contraception, as ours was abortion. And it was a big, broad movement, which did at one point focus on the vote.
LOU
Did you know Sylvia Pankhurst spoke at a meeting on Woodhouse Moor? 10,000 people. Can you imagine that? And we only know that because witnesses wrote it down in their diary or something. So that's an important thing to know, isn't it? That leads you back to the Feminist Archive.
Much has changed for women since 1970s and sadly a lot hasn’t. However the marches continue. We talked to people who attended the 2024 Reclaim the Night March in Leeds. There were women of all ages, backgrounds and cultures. A number of men and others were also marching, supporting the call to ending violence against women. Here is some of what the people we spoke to said:
KIKI
I think it's an important issue. I work in the city centre and I find it really interesting that my male colleagues don't have the same level of safety aspect when they're leaving, when it's late at night, after the office. They're like, “Oh, why are you holding your keys?” Or, “Why have you got your phone in your hands?” “Well, I'm about to walk down a really dark alley and go to get the bus on my own.” I just think that there's something that needs to be talked about a bit more.
I know a lot about the Yorkshire Ripper. My mum remembers exactly what it was like when people would say, “Don't go out.” And I remember her thinking it was really annoying, being told that we had to look after our safety and nobody else was going to do that for them. And while she didn't actually actively get involved, she was really proud of all her colleagues and friends that went. No, we're not going to stay indoors. We're not going to be meek sheep and mild lambs to the slaughter. We're going to go out and we're going to fight. We should be as safe walking the streets as men.
It's certainly different now. With social media, you can get followed online, people can find your location quite easily. But you are always connected online, so you can pin – if I go on a date, for example, or I’m meeting someone for the first time, I can send a location pin to my friend. We always laugh and joke - and it's not a funny matter – but, “If you don't hear from me in four hours, this is where I was last seen”. And I just think it's that conversation that, again, men don't have. There's that quote, isn't there, that every man fears a woman will laugh at them, whereas every woman fears that a man will kill them.
I don't know if it's better, it's certainly different. I would like to say it was better, but I don't know if that's particularly true. I'm lucky enough to have so many beautiful male allies in my life, but that doesn't necessarily mean that they fully understand what it's like. And then, I'm a woman of colour as well, so that then adds another aspect to it. Are you following me because I'm a woman, or are you following me because I'm a woman of colour? All these questions are in your head.
AMARA
Eradicating gender-based violence is a massive priority. We're from the student exec at Leeds University Union and it's a massive issue for our students; it's something that we wanted to fight against. As someone who is an avid goer-outer in Leeds, obviously, it's a massive concern. And I’ve been spiked before on nights out. Walking back from nights out is just awful and you wouldn't do it. So I'm doing it for those students on those nights out. Women feel so alone and they have these incidents that come up and a lot of the time the support isn't there, the support networks aren't there, so to be able to bring everyone together and say, “You know what, we're all together, we're fighting this together” is really nice. That's exactly why I'm doing this.
SARAH
I do a lot of running and I always have to think twice about where I'm going. Even today, I ran here today and I was like, what's my route? That bit's a bit dark or that bit's a bit scary. And I'm just sick of having to think about it. I wish I could just go where I wanted.
GEMMA
I first became involved with Reclaim the Night a couple of months ago when they had the one in Huddersfield. So, I worked at that event as a paramedic. I came as medical support for it. I'd never heard of it before. I was just so inspired by sort of what I saw and being there. And there were just so many amazing people that thought it was really important to sort of carry it on and then introduce my partner to it as well. As a paramedic, even going to work is worrying sometimes. To have to go into dark places at night, even at work when you should feel safe, is quite worrying sometimes. I think it's daunting being a woman now. There's so many different factors. There's stuff like social media, that's a massive influence on younger women.
AMANDA
I'm here because gender-based violence is still as big as it's ever been. Sometimes we think we're making progress, but we're clearly not making progress. The narrative of, you know, “Women need to keep safe, women need to do this, women need to carry the keys in their hand, women need to learn something else, women shouldn't go out at night,” …when the narrative should be, “Tell the f-ing men not to do this!” I think pretty much every woman I know, including myself, has experienced some form of sexual violence or sexual abuse. It's so widespread, a lot of women don't talk about it, but it's because men, they feel like they've got a right to it. With sexual assault and rape, it's pretty much not about the sexual act, it's the power. It's because men feel, “I can do this.” They think they have a right to everything.
BENNY
I have a business called Leeds Hoop Dance, where I teach hula-hooping. In April we got involved in a project for Reclaim the Night. We got together with lots of other dance groups. It was very fun. We came together, some of my students came along, we all performed. We did the route all the way up to Victoria Gardens, we did a massive performance. We really, really loved it. And I feel very strongly about the cause. I, myself, am a survivor, so it's really important to me to get involved. And I created a safe space for women to come together. Hula-hooping's how I express myself. And I thought, maybe it's the same way other people might want to come together. And it's a very nice way to connect with people. It feels like hitting two birds with one stone, really. Doing something I love, and supporting something that's really, really important.
Talking with these young people, I realised Al, Sandra, Lou, Claire and myself were part of a fundamental change in the role of women. I have had opportunities that my mother never had. As a result I have had to work out, at every stage, how I lead my life, whether I have children or not, and now how to grow old.
The 1970s was a time of social and political change, technological and scientific advances, and cultural upheaval. Women's rights, gay rights, and environmental movements gained momentum. And it was in Leeds that a small group of women started something, insisted that women had as much right to walk the streets safely and freely.
The world we live in today changed because of those women. We are living in troubled times, but that is not new. We need to tell those stories where people stood up to say, “this is wrong and needs to change”. That is where we can find hope and inspiration.
Thanks to the team at Feminist Archive North, based at the Brotherton Library at the University of Leeds. https://library.leeds.ac.uk/locations
Thanks to Sarah and Lily at Reclaim the Night Leeds. Check out their Instagram for details of marches in 2025. https://www.instagram.com/rtn_leeds/?hl=en