The woman whose campaigning set a legal precedent in the UK that stopped thousands of tonnes of greenhouse gas emissions has been awarded one of the world’s most prestigious environmental prizes alongside five other women from around the globe.

A supreme court ruling in a case brought by Sarah Finch has been cited in decisions against new oil concessions in the North Sea, the UK’s first new deep coalmine for 30 years and even plans for new large-scale factory farms.

On Monday she was named as one of six recipients of the Goldman Environmental prize, awarded annually to honour the achievements and leadership of grassroots environmental activists from around the world.

Finch was the named applicant on a legal case that in 2024 became a turning point in UK climate law. In the Finch ruling, the supreme court stipulated that any decision to approve new fossil fuel projects must take into account the effect the burning of coal, oil or gas extracted would have on the climate.

“It has been a gamechanger for environmental campaigners,” said Mel Evans, the head of campaigns at Greenpeace UK. “The ruling also aligned UK law more closely with climate science, which has always shown how the main impact of the fossil fuel industry on climate change comes from burning its products.”

Finch has been awarded the prize along with five other women, drawn from each of the world’s six primary regions, making up the first all-female roster of winners in the Goldman prize’s 37-year history. They are:

• Iroro Tanshi, a Nigerian conservation ecologist who launched a successful, community-led campaign to protect endangered bats from human induced wildfires;

• Borin Kim, a South Korean activist who won the continent’s first successful youth-led climate litigation, finding her government’s climate policy to be in violation of the rights of future generations;

• Alannah Acaq Hurley, a leader of the Yup’ik Indigenous people led a campaign that stopped what would have been the continent’s largest open-pit mine, in Alaska’s Bristol Bay region;

• Yuvelis Morales Blanco, a youth activist who mobilised others in her Afro-descendant community in Puerto Wilches against two drilling projects, preventing the introduction of commercial fracking into Colombia;

• Theonila Roka Matbob, of Papua New Guinea, whose campaign forced Rio Tinto, the world’s second-largest mining company, to sign an agreement to address devastation caused by its Panguna mine.

Founded in 1989 by philanthropists Rhoda and Richard Goldman, the Goldman prize has to date honoured 239 winners – including 112 women – from 98 nations. Many have gone on to take up positions as government officials, heads of state, NGO leaders and Nobel prize laureates.

“True leaders can be found all around us,” said John Goldman, the vice-president of the Goldman Environmental Foundation, hailing the winners. “The 2026 prize winners are proof positive that courage, hard work and hope go a long way toward creating meaningful progress.

“I am especially thrilled to honour our first-ever cohort of six women, as this is a powerful reflection of the absolutely central role that women play in the environmental community globally.”

It all began at the Royal Academy. I was trying – and mostly failing – to look at epic, inventive paintings by Kerry James Marshall. My toddler was trying – and mostly failing – to career around the gallery spaces without colliding with anybody’s legs. As he hurled his toy pig, bowling ball-style, beneath one of the low, string barriers installed to keep a safe distance between us and the canvases, it got me thinking: are small children and art compatible? Was it selfish of me to have chosen the RA over, say, the Young V&A? What could I do to make gallery-going a happy and stress-free experience for us both?

These are just a few of the questions I hope to answer over the course of this series, which will explore the delights and dangers (just imagine if one of piggy’s trotters had pierced a KJM) of introducing knee-height people to art. Over the coming weeks, I’ll be visiting galleries, museums, immersive exhibitions and sculpture parks with my toddler – some aimed at him, others … well, aimed at me. Along the way I’ll share my thoughts, his reactions, key strategies and notes on buggy access, child-friendly menus, entrance fees and changing facilities.

According to research commissioned by Art Fund in 2024, 92% of parents in the UK believe that visiting a museum or gallery is beneficial for their children. Yet 45% consider some hushed halls to be unwelcoming to kids, and 68% have felt judged for bringing them. Just over half of the parents surveyed worry their children would run around and potentially damage something.

I get it. Just the other day I was told – and I really was told – to hold my son’s hand in a museum, which I did, before the tiny, squirmy hand inevitably wriggled free. One friend ditched a video installation for which she’d bought a ticket after a man moaned that her young child was disturbing him. Another described a recent trip to Tate Britain with her own hard-to-wrangle toddler as a high-intensity workout.

The question, then: is the niggling worry, the possible embarrassment, the physical torture, the downright fear really worth it?

Yes! I think. I hope. And not just because I want to spend time with art – and, on the days when I don’t have childcare, where I go, my son comes, too. It’s true that, on a purely selfish level, I prefer paintings to stay-and-plays, and that I don’t feel entirely relaxed in rackety play cafes. I’ll admit I’m not a joiner – poor child, you might be thinking, for the love of god take the boy to rhyme time! But checking out the art on offer across the country is just as enjoyable for him, and heaps more enjoyable for me.

It’s important to me that he feels at home in our national institutions, which, by the way, are often free. Research shows that if you visit a museum with your family as a child, you’re more likely to become a long-term visitor. And then there are the benefits to learning, mental health and wellbeing.

Thankfully, things have changed since former Guardian columnist Dea Birkett and her twins were shown the exit at the RA after one of them screamed with delight “Monster! Monster” at an Aztec sculpture 20-odd years ago.

“I thought I was the cleverest woman in the world,” she tells me. “Here I was with a two-year-old appreciating pre-Hispanic art. So, I bent down to say ‘yes, yes, it’s just like a monster’, then a gallery assistant asked us to leave because we were being too noisy.” The experience led her to establish Kids in Museums, a charity dedicated to making cultural organisations more welcoming for families.

Historically, museums might have been places of quiet contemplation and static displays. But more and more now cater to children – particularly under-fives, who, with their adults, make up a large part of the midweek audience. Last year, Brighton & Hove Museums collaborated with Sussex Baby Lab to create a trail based on eye-tracking technology and headcams, which revealed what infants were most drawn to during cultural visits. And Dulwich Picture Gallery in London opened a new ArtPlay Pavilion – the centrepiece of a £5m renovation – furnished with bridges and swings inspired by paintings in its collection.

Off the back of its 2024 research, Art Fund launched Kids Aloud, a scheme that encourages children to visit museums and galleries, and, during two-hour slots, be as lively as they like. Look up your local and I bet there will be a kiddy-focused offering. After a quick Google search, I have a long list that includes Art Baby at the Whitworth in Manchester, Toddle Tours at MK Gallery in Milton Keynes, and Art Rebels at Turner Contemporary in Margate.

The trouble is, do I want something kiddy-focused, or do I want to simply bring my son with me to an exhibition I’ve been longing to see? Am I after education or entertainment or both? What happens when we leave the iPad behind, only to encounter art on a screen? Is an outdoor sculpture park the answer to a day of art that’s free from constant cajoling and scooping? And, speaking of which, how on earth can we plan for the fact that small children are entirely unpredictable?

Back at the RA, I sheepishly told the nearest gallery attendant about the toy pig, cordoned off behind the string. I wanted to tell him that, as well as a mum, I’m an art critic. I didn’t.

He followed me across the polished wood floor before kneeling down to peer into one of the metal grills (my son loves to dance on those) and regretfully inform me he wasn’t sure how to retrieve it.

“Not there,” I said. “There.” I pointed towards the base of the painting behind him, mercifully unharmed.

“Oh, you can get it,” he replied. “Those strings are just for show.”

Top tips for survival when visiting a gallery or museum with a small child

Snacks, lots of snacks

Time it well (bear in mind naps, meal times, rush hour – you name it)