INSIDE my head, I’m always having an argument with myself. I crave the contentment of a quiet life, free from conflict.

I’m sure most people who know me will find it hard to believe that I prefer to get my excitement from Strictly Come Dancing than from the battleground of political controversy.

And that I suppose is because something inside me drives me in the direction I’d prefer not to go.

I never made a choice to be political. But I’ve never been able to blithely ignore the injustices that scream in my face everywhere I look. Sometimes it’s just impossible to look away.

Politics can bring out the best in people. It can give a little power to those excluded from the structures and institutions that run our lives. It can inspire people to selflessly devote themselves to a cause bigger than themselves. It can turn shy and retiring people into passionate missionaries.

The 2014 referendum encouraged a flowering of talent, vision and ideas. It drove hundreds of thousands of highly private individuals to become part of a collective endeavour for the common good. It motivated people to "work as though they lived in the early days of a better nation", to borrow the phrase popularised by Alasdair Gray.

Some cynical journalists sneered at what they believed was the stupidity of Yes voters who were prepared to take a leap into the unknown. They missed the point.

The Yes movement awakened a sense of idealism which had almost, but not quite, been killed off by the self-centred culture shaped by the likes of Thatcher, Major and Blair. People were prepared to take the chance of a break with the past, not for themselves but for their families, their communities and future generations not yet born.

The independence movement was passionate and progressive, hopeful and open. It looked to the future rather than the past. It put to the sword the ethos of "Greed is Good" and replaced it with a more ethical spirit – with caring for others at its heart. Although they will never dare admit it, even Scotland’s Unionist parties and politicians were influenced by the humanity of the Yes movement.

Unfortunately, elsewhere the power of the people has been channelled in an altogether uglier direction. The movements that brought us Brexit and Trump were just as passionate as the Yes movement – but utterly regressive.

They were propelled by fear, lies and hate, stoked up by incredibly rich white men prepared to malevolently exploit the disaffection of people they privately despise. These were movements that looked back to a mythical halcyon past where Britain was great (and universally white) and John Wayne could be relied upon to sort out the Injuns. They popularised selfishness.

This was the dark side of mass movements. And it makes me shudder. That inner voice of mine that wants a quiet life is once again nagging me to hide under the covers.

I would be surprised if I’m alone. There’s a real danger that our independence movement, and progressive movements in general, start to feel like islands surrounded by a sea of reaction. And that we respond by retreating.

It would be comforting to pull the duvet over us all – to keep us safe while we whisper only to each other, the folk we already agree with. It can be hard out there. The victories of right-wing populism in 2016 have added a swagger to British nationalism and white supremacy in the US.

But it is when we are most tempted to turn inward that we must turn outward.

Just in time for my weary soul, Women for Independence (WFI) met for its AGM on Saturday, pulling me out from under the duvet. We were back in Perth again, nestling in the heart of Scotland. And my heart was warmed by this regiment of women who had taken a Saturday out of their stressful lives to come together because they care about humanity.

For women to do politics there is often a cost. We are generally unequally burdened with the unpaid work of child rearing and other caring responsibilities. We are generally left with most of the responsibility of running a home.

Doing politics on top of that can be added stress. And while mixing with bolshie women emboldens many, for some it can also complicate relationships at home.

It takes courage for women to raise their heads above the parapet. But that’s a quality WFI women have in spades. Many quietly go about making a difference, and so their names will never be recorded in the history books. Women can lead great lives – but greatness is generally reserved for men.

Some women do make it into the history books – often as accidental heroines. Last year, the centenary of the Great Glasgow Rent Strike, women like Mary Barbour and Helen Crawfurd were finally given the recognition they deserve in their native city. Rosa Parks, who refused to sit at the back of a racially segregated bus, has become an inspirational figure for black women in the USA. These women found themselves in situations where they had a choice to either bow down or stand tall. They were not motivated by fame or status. They had a burning sense of injustice.

We are living in times where we may be called upon to take a stand. Who knows who may have to be a Mary Barbour, a Helen Crawfurd or a Rosa Parks. Such courage is not just for posterity. I have no doubt that such courageous women were in that hall in Perth.

We left, strengthened by our mutual values but determined to reach out and listen to and talk with those women who do not yet agree with us on independence.

We left determined that we will not be cowed by the rise of the right. This is not a time to hide but a time to be visible. It is not a time to be silent but a time to speak out. And rest assured – we will be seen and we will be heard.