When we talk about women’s roles in agriculture, lines often get blurred. When I first moved to our farm, I was new to agriculture and wasn’t interested in farming as a career. However, as time went on, I developed not just an interest, but a passion for farming (much to my husband’s delight). Today, I work hard to help make our farm a success.

My role isn’t as visible as my husband’s, but it is real. I know this is the case for many other women on farms, and our work goes largely unrecognised by society.

I often see negative comments on social media, when women post images of themselves on their farms. Mainly, these comments insinuate that these women are “not actually farming”. I see eyes roll, sometimes, when I say “my farm”, as if I should never consider the place where I live and – yes! – work, as “mine” because my husband’s name, not mine, is on the paperwork.

I have never driven a tractor. I don’t feel like these tasks designate whether or not I “work” on our farm

I will say this: I have never milked a cow. Similarly, I have never driven a tractor. I don’t feel like these tasks designate whether or not I “work” on our farm. As our children get older and more independent, I know I will eventually have to do these things. That said, I wouldn’t expect “I never got to milk a cow” to be one of my deathbed regrets.

In my years of contribution, I have provided the farm with free childcare, household management and the provision of meals – as generations of women have done before me.

I have enabled the expansion of our business and developed the land. I’ve brought new initiatives to increase biodiversity and soil health. I’ve maintained and used the fruits of labour from previous farm residents – harvesting the apples and rhubarb; minding the gardens lovingly grown by grannies and great-great grannies. I’ve added new animals to the farm and have lowered household costs in so many ways.

During the busiest seasons, I am the one keeping everything running smoothly

I have acted as farm secretary; writing down our annual plans, logging data and keeping dates in the diary. I have helped with necessary farm updates and paperwork for our environmental and biosecurity commitments. During the busiest seasons, I am the one keeping everything running smoothly.

The kids get to their appointments, school and lessons; the fridge is full; the laundry done and the meals are cooked. During silage season, I take time off from my “real” job to make elaborate meals and ensure communications between the many workers.

Let’s not forget: unlike the men on our farm, I have actually given birth and lactated

I feed calves and walk animals back and forth to pasture. I hose down and deep clean the milking parlour. I watch the animals closely for signs of illness. Let’s not forget: unlike the men on our farm, I have actually given birth and lactated. I am often the first to notice if a cow is having trouble calving and can recognise mastitis, largely because I have actually suffered from mastitis – on a few occasions (it hurts).

I’m usually the one to say: “Call the vet.” Not just for the cows but for our dogs; who work so hard and also never seem to get proper credit. When things get messy and tragic during calving, I’m there with my husband and the vet; all of us trying our hardest to keep our animals alive. My husband is a great farmer, a kind soul and a hero in the eyes of the children and myself.

For all the times I’ve complained about him in this column, I could never say he doesn’t appreciate and value my role both in his life and on farm. We are best friends and partners – and our jobs are of equal importance.

So when I hear discussions around the role of women in Irish agriculture and “what it should be” or “what it can be” I simply think – why don’t we see it as it already is, and has been for centuries? Women have been farming in Ireland since the very beginning of organised agriculture.

One day, our daughters will need to decide whether they will continue with our farm. I hope they do, but no one can see into the future

While these discussions (particularly considering issues like compensation for work) are important and should be normalised, they also need to come from a genuine place of acknowledgement. Otherwise, how can we create a meaningful shift in our mindsets?

One day, our daughters will need to decide whether they will continue with our farm. I hope they do, but no one can see into the future. One thing is for certain: they will be encouraged to follow their passions.

A conversation surrounding their role in agriculture will never need to happen. Their role already exists; it’s there waiting for them if they so choose. As is mine; and the many generations of women who lived on our farm before me.

Without us, there would be no family farm.

Without women, there would be no agriculture.