Ireland may be heading for its first ever female Taoiseach in Sinn Féin's Mary Lou McDonald but, that apart, the 2020 General Election has proved a pitiful event from a feminist standpoint.
Just 36 of the available 160 seats in Dáil Éireann will be occupied by women. That's one more than last time but still a piffling 22.5pc.
Despite all the talk of quotas and progressiveness and gender balance, we essentially are where we were 10 years ago. Only one woman was elected from five Cork constituencies. None were elected in Limerick or Tipperary.
It has to be a hard pill to swallow for an organisation like Women for Election, which has been dutifully offering training and networking opportunities for women interested in politics since 2012.
And it's no less disappointing for those of us punters who had hoped for better - for me this means nothing less basic than knowing that people of my gender, some of whom may have something in common with my experience, are having their voices heard at the top table on health, housing, education and finance in my own country.
Still, when you think about it, it's not all that surprising.
Women can't be elected if they aren't on the ballot sheet and - though this election was the first to see at least one woman run in every constituency - they mostly aren't, at least not in the numbers that matter.
As the National Women's Council of Ireland (NWCI) pointed out this week, women made up only 31pc of all candidates this time around. And the proportion was heavily skewed in favour of urban areas, where a close-to-respectable 44pc of available candidates were women. In rural areas, only 22pc of candidates were female.
The NWCI's conclusion was that political parties - which they note appear to be regarding the present 30pc quota as a target rather than a minimal achievement - need to develop candidate selection processes that look outside traditional fishing pools such as the GAA.
While quotas can work, and while asking a wider selection of people to run will obviously help, it's all probably a lot more complex than that.
Think about it - everyone knows any number of intelligent, well-organised, savvy females who would be brilliant politicians.
Everyone knows women whose civic pride, event-management capacity and willingness to volunteer in their local communities cannot be matched.
The barrier can't be solely that nobody's ever asked them to step it up a notch, can it?
The US - which has a similar deficit - may have something to tell us about this.
In 2017, political news website Politico ran a fascinating survey in conjunction with American University and Loyola Marymount that examined this precise conundrum and found, for instance, female college students who played sports were much more likely to have considered running for election than those who did not. Since it's been estimated that in this country female teenagers are three times as likely as boys to drop their organised sports activities, this is interesting.
The survey also found female confidence falls with age and experience. In high school, their survey found, boys and girls were equally interested in politics and also equally likely to participate in things like student councils.
By college, though, the gender gap emerged, with young men far more likely to consider a career in politics and also far more likely to be encouraged by family and friends to do so.
Parental encouragement generally was found to be a huge motivator for young people to engage in politics - suggesting that politicians aren't just born, they are built from childhood. Parents of youngsters, take note!
Equally tellingly, US college-aged men who didn't think they'd ever be qualified to run for office were still 50pc more likely than women with the same doubts to consider running anyway.
It all adds up to a depressingly familiar picture. Can it really be that the chief gap here - as in many other areas where a giant gap exists between men and women - is self-doubt? Why else would women who are just as well qualified as men to be politicians typically choose to stay back from public life?
When the survey polled women and men among "feeder" careers (things such as business, law, education and politics/activism), they found women were almost as likely to have political experience, including extensive policy research, public speaking, soliciting funds and interacting with public officials.
But when asked whether they thought they were qualified to run for office, only 57pc of those women said they thought they were qualified or very qualified, compared to 73pc of men.
The one exception to the rule was the local school board, leading the survey to conclude that political party recruiters could do a lot worse than to specifically target these for candidates in future.
As anyone who has ever had anything to do with an invariably formidable school parents' association will attest, this is a serious point.
It seems to me that we could do with more of our own in-depth research on this tricky issue and start to address some of the real reasons why so few women regard themselves as viable politicians. Cultural norms, work-life balance, confidence deficits - these are all likely to come up.
But the task is not impossible.
Smaller parties have clearly made the effort; more than 50pc of Social Democrat candidates were women (11 out of 20), while 40pc of Green candidates were female.
The Róisín Shortall/Catherine Murphy-led Social Democrats even managed to get four women elected - their elected team of six is now firmly skewed towards women - so perhaps they in particular can tell the others how it's done.
One thing is for sure, with the gender quota for candidate selection set to rise to 40pc in 2023, something has to give.
Unless, of course, we don't as a nation truly care about equality. That truly is a barrier to change.