1. The Celebration of Birth: A Daughter Named Laxmi
In many Indian households, the birth of a girl is traditionally accompanied by the phrase, “Laxmi has arrived,” invoking the goddess of wealth and fortune. Yet for generations, this celebration was often laced with contradiction. While daughters were symbolically revered, in practice, families prioritized sons. Slowly, this is changing. Today, in more and more homes, daughters are welcomed and raised with the same pride and affection as sons.
I was one such daughter, born into a lower-middle-class family, but raised with full support, love, and opportunities. My parents ensured I got a good education and the same platform to grow as my brother. Yet, as I grew older, I began noticing the subtle and not-so-subtle differences in expectations, especially within the home.
2. Equal Education, Unequal Expectations
Despite receiving an equal education, the expectations placed on me as a girl began to diverge from those placed on my brother. One of the earliest and most persistent differences was around cooking. For girls, learning to cook was not about self-reliance. It was framed as preparation for marriage.
We were told: “Learn to cook so you can feed your husband and in-laws.” Not: “Learn to cook to feed yourself.” During holidays, relatives would be asked to teach us new dishes, while boys were allowed to rest or play. In the absence of our mothers, it was us, daughters who were expected to step in. The household automatically became our responsibility.
3. The Weight of Being Like Our Mothers
This silent training came with another burden: the expectation to become our mothers. We were taught not only the chores but the sacrifices and silences. As a child, I admired my mother, tried to imitate her speech, her daily rhythm. But as I matured, I realized I didn’t want to live her life. The thought of doing so felt suffocating.
Conversations about how I envision marriage or life often end in disappointment. Our mothers, deeply embedded in a hierarchy where love and control blur, find it difficult to understand or accept change. Even when they express sadness about their own condition, taking action against it feels harder to them than remaining oppressed.
4. Patriarchy Passed Down by Women
I read once that patriarchy is often upheld by women more than men. It’s painful, but true. From mothers to aunties, the expectations persist: be the ideal woman, serve your husband, stay silent in disputes, support everyone but yourself.
This leads to a painful gap between mothers and daughters. We lack conversations where women wish each other joy, freedom, and fulfillment. In many Indian homes, a woman never fully belongs. Before marriage, the house is her father’s; after, her husband’s. Even the idea of having her own space feels foreign.
5. Childhood, Trauma, and the Guilt of Realization
Parents shape our lives deeply. Ideally, they should be our shield from the harshness of society. But childhood often delivers its own kind of trauma. We carry guilt for feeling distant from our parents, especially mothers. We try to bond, to forgive, to understand but the repeated phrase, “We know better,” becomes a wall we can’t climb.
Girls carry the additional burden of societal pressure, especially around marriage. We’re expected to quietly absorb it all, even when it hurts. And so, many of us grow up feeling lonely in our own homes, guilty for questioning the very people we love.
6. From Cage to Choice: The Fight for Freedom
A home should be a place of peace, love, nourishment, and freedom. But without freedom, it becomes a cage a cage with furniture and people, but a cage nonetheless.
The good news? Change is happening. Slowly, painfully, but surely. Women are starting to resist. We are no longer silent. We ask questions. We challenge traditions. We fight.
And we will continue to fight for ourselves, for our mothers, for our daughters.
Because this cycle must end with us.