Could Local Government Reorganisation reverse progress towards gender parity among councillors?

In this think piece, Cllr Sally Yalden – a Parish Councillor and Borough Councillor in Test Valley – reflects on the impact of Local Government Reorganisation (LGR) on women’s representation and democratic diversity. Drawing on her research into seven new unitary authorities, she finds a consistent pattern: after councils are merged, women’s representation drops, reversing progress towards parity.

In March 2025, I began researching how previous rounds of LGR had affected women’s representation and political plurality. It wasn’t abstract policy curiosity; it came from my own experiences of political culture, gatekeeping, and the whispered “that’s just how things are”. I wanted to understand whether others, especially women, also felt the ground shifting under their feet.

So I turned to the seven authorities that have already undergone LGR and unitarisation: North Yorkshire, Buckinghamshire, Somerset, North Northamptonshire, West Northamptonshire, Cumberland, and Westmorland & Furness. Between work, council duties, and family life, I spent evenings and weekends entering data into a spreadsheet, and what I found was deeply concerning.

Key finding: LGR is structurally exclusionary

Local government reorganisation might look neat on a Whitehall slide deck, but on the ground, it is structurally exclusionary. When you reduce the number of councillors so dramatically, someone loses out.

After LGR, women’s representation in the new unitary councils slumped to between 24% and 36% – notably short of the 41% national average. Before reorganisation, there had been slow but steady progress towards greater gender parity in councillor representation.

What are the contributing factors?

In my research, women and men have almost identical success rates once they stand. That means voters aren’t discriminating against women – the problem is the scarcity of women standing in the first place.

In other words, the representation gap is not driven by the electorate. It is driven by who has the opportunity, encouragement, time, resources and cultural safety to stand.

One female councillor in a new unitary described her new patch and workload as:

“The equivalent of three district councillors and one county councillor combined – I now have a ward of seven parishes spread over 18 by 20 miles.“

Bigger wards mean heavier casework, vastly more travel, and campaign costs that put the role far beyond reach for many women, younger people and anyone without deep pockets or flexible employment.

When my son was young and needed a lot of support, the demands of a unitary-sized ward would have been impossible alongside caring responsibilities. Life is more balanced now, but the scale of these new wards would still place huge pressures on anyone juggling family, work, and other commitments. Women continue to take on the bulk of caring – the unseen work of organising family life while holding down a job. We carry the invisible load.

My data also showed something else: a collapse in political plurality. Independents – often where women, younger candidates, working-age professionals and community activists begin their political journeys – were almost wiped out after reorganisation. Boundary reviews then trigger a second wave of reductions. The ladder narrows. The rungs disappear.

In my experience, LGR does not ‘renew’ democracy. It concentrates power. It reduces entry points. It amplifies inequality. I know this because I can see it in the numbers and I can feel it in the culture. Yet the government’s language remains trapped in the vocabulary of ‘efficiency’, ‘streamlining’, and ‘structures’, as if democracy were a management exercise rather than a matter of people’s lives.

What can be done?

Alongside the LGIU, I’ve shared my research with the LGA, Elect Her, Centenary Action, the Fawcett Society, and the Women & Equalities Committee. The concern is real. The sympathy is genuine. But sympathy and action are not the same thing.

Some of the solutions aren’t complicated: funded childcare, carers’ allowances, parental leave policies, and allowances that truly reflect the reality of the work. But none of these features are in the government’s LGR story. Instead, the debate loops endlessly around efficiencies and economies of scale, while ignoring the communities and the people who must live with the consequences. Democracy isn’t built from expensive consultant diagrams. It is built on people’s lives.

I’ve met many brilliant women who are shaping their communities and would make exceptional councillors. But the pipeline isn’t self-generating. Recruitment can’t be passive. And the legacy of the old system lingers.

Addressing the culture problem

A female party veteran once said to me (a comment that still haunts me):

“I didn’t have it easy as a woman when I became a councillor, so why should you or any other woman?”

It wasn’t malice; it was the inheritance of a system that taught her that struggle was the price of legitimacy. But that legacy keeps the door half-closed for the women who follow. Unfortunately, that mindset is still prevalent in politics.

I’m here because I was asked to stand. Women rarely stand without being asked (not pushed, not pressured) – simply asked. I’ve heard things like: “We can’t force women to stand.” It’s said with a shrug as if women are the problem to be solved rather than the system itself.

But asking is not enough. Some women also need meaningful mentoring, not just nominal. When I became a councillor, the mentoring on offer fell short. What I hoped for – and what would have made a real difference – was those standing beside women: championing, guiding, supporting and helping them navigate a political culture that can be unforgiving without solidarity.

Since being elected, I’ve been struck by how local government lags behind the professional world from which many of us come. For example, hybrid council meetings are still rare. Family-friendly scheduling is inconsistent at best.  And the very idea of job-sharing (a model already operating in Wales) is treated as if it’s a radical idea.

It’s not about individuals; it’s about a political culture that hasn’t kept pace with the times and continues to exclude those with caring commitments or limited flexibility.

What’s the real question to be asking during LGR?

Who gets left behind when we redraw the map?

Because local government reorganisation isn’t just lines on a chart. It’s people. It’s access. It’s whose voice gets heard – and whose voice becomes an echo.

If the government truly wants ‘democratic renewal’, then it must start with the women who keep democracy running. Those quietly, reliably, consistently, often invisibly, and long before they ever consider stepping into a council chamber.

I want to end by recognising that women are not the only group affected by these structural changes. LGR also impacts ethnic minorities, LGBTQ+ communities, disabled people, younger candidates, and many others who are already underrepresented in local government. Their experiences matter deeply. But this report is written from my own vantage point, shaped by the barriers I have encountered and the patterns I have seen. It is not an attempt to speak for everyone, only to add one honest account to a wider conversation about who gets included, and who risks being pushed further to the margins as local government is reshaped.

Cllr Sally Yalden is a Parish Councillor and a Borough Councillor in Test Valley.