Insights from walking around England and Wales: #13 Social change can be imperceptible, and then sudden and visible

I was surprised to witness rapid societal change in quaint, quiet villages and towns. Places seemingly unchanged over the centuries. Yet those bucolic exteriors sometimes masked rapid adaptation to modern realities.

In September 2018 I reached Tintagel in north Cornwall, a remote clifftop spot, and the birthplace of the legend of King Arthur. Less glamorously, I spotted something inside Tintagel’s 11th century church which took me aback: a table listing the names and dates of each vicar since 1259. The most recent name was that of a woman, the first female appointed in nearly 800 years. Still, a few months later I witnessed how sharply this particular glacier of change was accelerating.

Now it was spring 2019, in eastern England. The daffodils were blooming in the nearby churchyard of a venerable cathedral. My Airbnb was hosted by two women. One of them was a vicar at the cathedral. She was a quietly spoken woman with a gentle demeanor, although her posters celebrating the history of women’s rights suggested a sense of destiny as well.

“We had to move from the previous church, because the parishioners weren’t happy with me being gay,” she told me with a regretful smile. “But here, in this little town, we are fine.”

“Is it tough, being a double pioneer?” I asked. “I thought that congregations were still getting used to the idea of women priests, let alone gay women priests.”

“Well, it’s easier in the town than in the countryside,” she answered. “And once people get to know you, it usually works out fine.”?

That seemed to be an eternal truth. And an encouraging one.

In 2018-19 I walked 4,300 miles around the coast of England and Wales to raise awareness that cervical cancer can be eliminated in a generation. My book From Grief to Love tells the stories of the inspiring people I met that year.

A longer version of this post can be found here.