I was sitting opposite one of my PhD supervisors, having just attempted to dismiss the entire genre of feminist theology as not relevant to my project when my radicalisation began. I had grown up in a particular kind of evangelical church with a theology of complementarity that had impressed up on me that of course I was equal to my husband, but that my role was distinctly different from his. The kind of church where husbands were considered to be the leaders of their wives (and, of course, their children) and where only men could be elders of the church or preach in a service. Whilst I had started to…