“Robinson’s rhetoric about ‘saving our children’ and ‘defending British culture’ is a thin veil over a politics of fear. His movement weaponises the language of care to justify policies of exclusion. But we see through it.”
On September 13, 2025, central London became the stage for a chilling display of far-right extremism. Tommy Robinson (real name Stephen Yaxley-Lennon), a convicted criminal long associated with anti-immigrant and Islamophobic rhetoric, led the “Unite the Kingdom” rally, drawing over 100,000 supporters.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting that everyone who attended Robinson’s rally was a racist, but I’ve no doubt that every racist in the UK attempted to be there.
Among the speakers were individuals who called for the repatriation of immigrants and the banning of all religions except Christianity. Most shockingly, the world’s richest man Elon Musk — appearing via video link — reportedly praised the rally, while encouraging the crowd to “fight back or die”. This, from a South African immigrant to America who once worked illegally in the country he now calls home. Musk’s declarations weren’t just provocative — they were dangerous.
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The rise in support for Tommy Robinson cannot be viewed in isolation — it echoes a broader global trend of far-right populism, much of which has been emboldened by the rhetoric of figures like President Donald Trump. Trump’s repeated use of inflammatory language around immigration, religion, and nationalism has helped normalise extremist discourse, creating fertile ground for Robinson’s movement to flourish in the UK.
At the September 13 rally, Robinson was even seen waving a Trump flag while leading chants of “Trump, Trump, Trump!” — a symbolic gesture that underscored the ideological kinship between the two men. For British women resisting Robinson’s agenda, this transatlantic alliance of hate only strengthens our resolve to stand firm against the spread of authoritarianism and misogyny.
So, amid the noise of nationalism and hate, a quieter, resolute force marched in defiance. I was one of approximately 5,000 plus counter-protesters who stood against this tide of intolerance. I walked with the Women’s Block, a coalition of women — of all ages, class and creed — who reject Robinson’s cynical claim that his movement exists to “protect women and girls”. We know better. We’ve seen this playbook before.
Our march was not just a reaction to one day’s events — it was a continuation of a long tradition of British women standing up to fascism and far-right ideologies. From the suffragettes who fought for political representation, to the anti-fascist women who resisted Oswald Mosley’s British Union of Fascists in the 1930s, our presence on the streets of London was part of a legacy of resistance.
In 1934, Mosley’s fascist rally in Hyde Park was met with fierce opposition, including from women who understood that fascism was not just a threat to minorities — it was a threat to democracy, to freedom, and to women’s rights. Women made up over 20% of the British Union of Fascists’ membership, but many others stood firmly against it, recognising the contradiction of supporting a movement that sought to curtail their hard-won freedoms.
Fast forward to the 1970s and 1980s, and we see women at the forefront of anti-racist and anti-fascist mobilisations, particularly in response to the National Front and other far-right groups. Women organised, marched, and spoke out — not just as allies, but as leaders. They understood that fascism thrives on division, and that gendered narratives — like Robinson’s claim to be a protector — are often used to mask deeper agendas of control and exclusion.
That’s why the Women’s Block exists. We reject the idea that our safety can be secured by scapegoating immigrants or banning religious freedoms. We know that true protection comes from solidarity, justice, and equality — not from authoritarianism dressed up as patriotism.
Robinson’s rhetoric about “saving our children” and “defending British culture” is a thin veil over a politics of fear. His movement weaponises the language of care to justify policies of exclusion. But we see through it. Lest we forget, reporting by the Guardian, showed that 40% of those arrested for taking part in last year’s summer racist riots had been previously reported to the police for domestic abuse.
We all know that successive governments have failed to address a cumbersome, underfunded, poorly organised asylum system; we also know that the real threats to women and girls are poverty, domestic violence, underfunded public services — not migrants seeking refuge. Two things can be true at once.
Our march on September 13 was a declaration: we will not be used. We will not be silenced. We will not allow our identities to be co-opted by those who seek to divide. We stood shoulder to shoulder with trade unionists, anti-racist campaigners, and everyday citizens who believe in a Britain that welcomes, not one that expels; one that flourishes united, not divided; that waves our flags in pride not prejudice.
And we will keep marching. Because every time the far right rises, British women have risen too. We’ve fought for the vote, for equal pay, for reproductive rights — and we’ll fight for a society that values every person, regardless of race, religion, or origin.
Tommy Robinson may claim to speak for the nation. But on that day, the Women’s Block spoke for its conscience.
…and history will remember which side we stood on.
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