Legislator Luo Shu-lei is intercepted twice as she walks back to her office with a stack of files in her hands. The first time, it’s officials from the Executive Yuan appealing to her again to vote for their legislation. The second time, it’s a horde of journalists asking her for comments. Luo remains calm and collected throughout both interruptions.

Back at her office, she opens the door on what looks like a war zone. Every available surface, from the desk and the sofa to even the tea caddy, is covered with reports and files related to legislation. “I spent last night here, reading up on the US beef situation.”

Squinting heavy eyes, she says: “It’s a miracle I haven’t lost my mind since becoming a legislator.” Her family doesn’t get it. They think she should be enjoying a relaxing, semi-retired lifestyle instead of slaving away.

“I’ve thought about leaving, but I stick it out. I treat it as a kind of ascetic practice.” As if trying to buck herself up, she pulls out a thank-you letter from a Mrs. Liang. “I got a lot of satisfaction from this case,” she recalls.

Mrs. Liang is a resident of Tai­chung’s ­Wuri District who mends clothing for a living. Her only daughter fell to her death while walking beside a canal at a spot where a fence had been removed. Grieving, Liang sought government compensation for her daughter’s death, but got nowhere.

Her fruitless struggles continued until Luo came across a letter from Liang in her office, where it had been tossed aside by an assistant. “I gave the assistant a serious dressing down, making clear that life is precious and that you can’t ignore someone in distress simply because they live in a distant district and aren’t a constituent.” Luo immediately initiated an investigation, gathered evidence, and hired a lawyer to file a suit. Her intervention ultimately won Mrs. Liang more than NT$2 million in compensation. “The most moving moment was when Mrs. Liang immediately spent a portion of her settlement repairing the fence so that no one else would suffer a similar loss. This letter contains a photo of the completed repairs.”

The delightful Taipei City councilor Kao Chia-yu is a terrific public speaker, both eloquent and on point.

They say that power corrupts. Have women had a different experience of power?

Taiwan Solidarity Union legislator Lin Shih-chia still finds herself surprised by things most old hands are used to. “I discovered that the Legislative Yuan is the most ‘polite’ place in all of Taiwan. Wherever you go, everyone, whether they know you or not, rushes to greet you. They see your power, not your personhood.”

Chang Yi-shan, Lin’s chief of staff and fellow product of the student-movement era, adds, “Power is like a shadow on a wall, enabling even the most insignificant of people to ­project a giant image. The desire for power exists in everyone, male and female. The differences are in whether you reflect, and in how you act.”

Whether in the media spotlight or not, many politicians become different people when they step up to a podium to address questions to administration officials. They erupt in bursts of energy and shout themselves hoarse, leaving onlookers wondering whether their “performances” are intentional.

“When the chairman gives the floor to Lin,” says Chang, “any official that happens to be at the podium comes alive, knowing that he or she needs to be ready for battle.” Lin herself says you have to bring some energy and ferocity to questioning to make officials pay attention. “But you don’t want to get genuinely angry or you’ll be wiped out for the rest of the day!”

KMT legislator Ma Wen-chun, a former mayor of ­Puli Township, Nan­tou County, admits that she had a hard time getting used to the harsh atmosphere of the Legislative Yuan, and hadn’t realized that the “green” and “blue” camps each sat in their own separate areas. “Party governance shouldn’t be so antagonistic.”

Though legislator Lin Shih-chia has a reputation for being particularly fierce when questioning officials, she is also known as a warm and loyal friend.

More and more young women have been appearing on the political scene in recent years. Like the generations of politicians that preceded them, they have a sense of mission, as well as passion and enthusiasm.

Born in 1980, Kao Chia-yu is a case in point. She holds a master’s degree from National Taiwan University and has served as one of the heads of the university’s PTT bulletin board system and as president of the NTU student association. Having moved up through the ranks of the DPP, she became the youngest person ever elected to the Taipei City Council in 2010.

“I hope my experience will inspire other young people to participate in government,” says Kao. Lacking a politically connected family, the backing of a faction, or financial resources, she was elected for her professional training, youthful vitality, and hardworking attitude. Her campaign strategy consisted of spending her days talking to people in markets and on the streets in the company of her younger brother, and her evenings distributing fliers at trash collection points.

Wide-eyed and sweet-faced, Kao is well aware of society’s propensity for judging books by their covers. During her campaign, one of her opponents took a jab at her by remarking, “Men have to work who knows how many events, and drink who knows how much booze to get a single vote, whereas you just stand on a street corner and smile, and the votes come pouring in.” More recently, a business owner chatted politics with her before telling her, “Politics is too much work for a woman. As pretty as you are, you should find yourself a rich man instead.”

“What made me angry was the idea that my hard work was completely ignored,” says Kao. “It’s true that this is a visually oriented age, and a pleasing appearance has benefits, but it takes strength to do a good job and persevere.”

Women have clearly begun making their presence felt on the political scene. If we as a society can harbor a little less prejudice toward them and offer up a little more respect and affirmation, it seems likely that still more will take the stage and shine.

Nantou native Ma Wen-chun was a surprise entrant into the political arena, replacing her father on the ballot. She has since gone on to carve out her own space.