I was supposed to grow up to be a ‘good Indian woman’. I chose freedom instead
As a young girl growing up in a very traditional Mumbai family, I knew I was expected to grow up to be a certain sort of woman.
Here’s what I was taught. A good Indian woman is obedient and lives the life her parents and society tell her to live. A good Indian woman gets “married off” early and becomes a mother quickly because that is her primary purpose. A good Indian woman doesn’t reveal any part of her body or her sexual desires. A good Indian woman ignores her own needs and lives her life serving others. My mother, my grandmother and many women before them had lived exactly this life.
I was pressured to marry the first man who was interested, an “arranged marriage” where I knew next to nothing about my “future husband”. I was taught to cook all the traditional dishes, because, in my mum’s words: “What will your mother-in-law say if you can’t cook well?” I was told I should never reveal my legs or upper arms, to cover up and not tempt the gaze or hands of men around me.
I tried to become the woman my family wanted. I studied hard in school, received good grades. I was a quiet girl, eyes downcast, too shy to speak to boys. I didn’t go to any parties, wasn’t allowed to stay out after 7pm.
But I was born with a fire in my belly. With a voice in my head that questioned everything I was being taught by society and family.
That voice in my head soon turned into a loud voice that came out of my mouth. I said things to my family like: “Why should I always be quiet?” Or: “Why are men allowed to do such and such and not women?” Obviously this didn’t go down very well. I had multiple aunties and uncles warning my close family that “this girl will ruin you”.
But that didn’t silence my voice. Because I saw how badly women in my culture were treated. It was always the women cooking, cleaning and serving others from dawn until dusk. It was always the women told to “adjust” to everything, from a husband who beat you up, to a mother-in-law who treated you badly, to being groped by men every time you left the house. Women were told that this was their lot and they just had to shut up and put up with it. I didn’t want to shut up and put up.
There was no single moment when I decided that I was going to give up on being the “good Indian woman”. Instead, a series of moments and days and years led to me giving up on conforming to that traditional ideal.
I suspect seeing how unhappy my own mother’s life was (a woman who had a literature degree but now spent her days endlessly cooking and cleaning) had a lot to do with it. I remember when I was 18, I decided to get my hair cut very short, right under my ears. This was unforgivable in my mother’s eyes, because an Indian woman’s beauty is her long, dark tresses. I also remember going to college in a short skirt that exposed my legs, and my mother’s thunderous face as I left our home.
I realised that giving up on being the “good Indian woman” meant I could finally become the woman I was meant to be.
That was the beginning of a long journey, of many battles. I found myself a job in Bengaluru, about an hour’s flight away. And I remember stepping into my new rented flat, relishing being alone for the first time in my life. I recall vividly pouring myself a small glass of Baileys (my drink of choice then) and sitting in my shorts (something I was never allowed to wear at home), and feeling as if I had won the lottery. And from that day, I went on to make so many changes in my life, eventually moving to the UK in 2005. The sweet taste of Baileys always reminds me of my first taste of freedom.
When I look back at that young woman today, I’m so proud that she had the courage to give up on that idea of Indian womanhood. That she could stand alone in a world that told her she was going to ruin her life and bring shame on her family – and still have the courage to do what felt right to her.
So here’s the crux of it. Giving up on the idea of being a “good Indian woman” transformed me into a “fulfilled independent Indian woman”. The sort of woman who went on to create the award-winning Masala Podcast and the platform Soul Sutras, tackling cultural taboos and challenging traditional norms. The sort of woman who stands up in front of audiences all over the world, talking about south Asian women owning our voices, our bodies, our sexual pleasure. The sort of woman who inspires thousands of other women – they write to me almost every day to thank me for helping them to change their lives.
I’m so grateful to have had the courage to give up on the “good Indian woman” ideal. Because now, I’m exactly the sort of woman I couldn’t have ever imagined I would be. The best sort of woman: a fierce feminist fighting for my fellow south Asian women.
Sangeeta Pillai is a south Asian feminist activist and the creator of Masala Podcast
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