When I tell older people “I don’t want to get married right now,” or “I’m not planning on having children,” they look at me in complete disbelief. I try to explain my reasoning, but they cut me off with “That’s selfish. Don’t you think your parents want to see their grandchildren?”



Selfish. It’s a word that is weaponized against Indian women in a variety of ways; a word that I instinctively flinch from.

As I look at the men around me, I see how loud they are at work, how assertive and demanding. I see how instead of selfishness, this is viewed as ambition, how it is framed as something desirable. I see how they behave at home, how they throw their clothes on the floor, how they leave the dirty dishes on the table. They never offer to lay the dishes, or wash up, or even push their chairs back in. From a young age, they are taught that women will clean up their mess.

The invisible, intangible burdens weigh even heavier. I see how my friends patiently take on the lion’s share of emotional labor, supporting and comforting their boyfriends through the bad days. I see how little they get back. Sometimes it’s painful to witness.

Sometimes it’s funny, and we learn to joke about it with each other. I tell my friends about the time a DJ invited me on a date and I showed up only to realise that he was the house DJ that night, and that he expected me to stand and listen to him for three hours. They tell me about how their boyfriends don’t seem to care about their hobbies or take an interest in their art. We find solace in group chats with other women who share our plight.