The #MeToo movement, arguably last year’s most potent political force, shows no sign of losing vigour. It’s a remarkable testament to the pent-up frustration and anger of womankind that what was initially seen, when it began in October 2017, as a frivolous or fleeting craze, has put down roots and become a force to be reckoned with.

Anne Widdicombe might have dismissed it as trivial and whingeing – and some #MeTooers undoubtedly deserve that label – but the culture of sexual harassment and abuse it calls out is far from unimportant. Equally crucial are other issues that have vexed women for decades, if not centuries, among them equality of pay, professional respect and opportunity.

So far, so reasonable. Yet, when I heard Mary Robinson, former President of Ireland, talking last week about Mothers of Invention, a podcast she has set up that focusses exclusively on women’s efforts to address climate change, my heart did a double skip: one for delight, two for despair. Delight that women are getting involved directly in trying to help reduce our carbon footprint, without a doubt the most urgent of the world’s ails, but despair at Robinson’s smug assumption that “it’s women who change behaviour, in the family and the community”.

Let’s put aside for a moment the fact that, as Robinson reveals in her recent book, Climate Justice, her own awareness of environmental calamity dawned on her like a Damascene conversion astonishingly late in the day. What sets my teeth on edge is the sanctimonious way in which women are increasingly frequently being portrayed – mostly by other women. It’s as if there is a collective halo that needs constant polishing, lest it lose its lustre. Indeed, it seems you cannot these days be a female in a position of influence or authority without feeling the urge – or the pressure – to add a stone to the cairn of women’s rights, entitlements and endeavours.

Don’t misunderstand me. I am an old-style feminist, and decry utterly the unfair, oppressive and sometimes iniquitous treatment of women in our and other societies. Men have an awful lot to answer for, today and in the past. But I get decidedly uneasy at the perceptual divide that appears to be widening between the sexes. Climate change, said Robinson, is “man-made”, and she enjoys using the term, even though admitting it embraces men and women. But apart from this deliberate provocation, is she really correct in assuming that women change attitudes more widely than men?

Maybe it depends on what sort of country you’re living in. When I look around the UK, I don’t recognise that stark distinction. Plenty of men seem to be trying to bring about green change, ethical enlightenment, societal improvement, better childcare and education, and are working towards this alongside women. Sometimes, for heaven’s sake, they are even taking the lead.

Meanwhile, children in two-parent families are open to influences from both parents. While women still tend to spend more time with their young, this does not necessarily equate to a more lasting influence on their behaviour or outlook. The other day my husband’s granddaughter rushed to interrupt her mother who was on the phone to announce that Liverpool had just scored a fourth goal against Newcastle – whose influence was that?

We are going through a phase where almost every interview with a woman politician or banker, entrepreneur or artist, includes the obligatory question about #MeToo, in the same way that every American is asked their opinion of Trump. And while it obviously takes women at the top to help bring about change for those lower down the ladder – or in the community at large – it is surely not a sacred obligation placed upon each of them. To assume that is to be sexist and discriminatory. It’s certainly not an expectation placed upon men.

Yet to listen to some women’s outrage, you’d think there’s a contract, signed at birth, that insists women pay especial attention to female issues even if there are things that interest them more. Florence Nightingale and Elsie Inglis personally helped save hundreds of lives, and their influence rippled down the decades to the benefit of all, women as much as men. Yet their initial impulse was not to improve things for their own kind, but to help wounded soldiers and the sick and dying. In other words, to improve the conditions of humanity as a whole, not one gender or the other.

Of course splinter groups and special interest parties can make things change – just look at Dr Inglis’s formidable all-women hospitals. There is a galvanising power and collective spirit in female solidarity that nobody can deny. So let’s hear it for women tackling climate change. And for men too.

In these unsettling and perilous times we surely need to remember that we are all just people. Our identity is not primarily male or female, trans, intersex, other, or whatever label fits. We are simply and essentially human, with all the complexities of personality, type, and biases that entails. Since we’re in it all together, that’s also how we should sort things out.