– Poorva Tugade
Unlike large-scale feminist movements that focus on systemic change, microfeminism refers to small, everyday acts of resistance and empowerment that challenge gender norms on a local, personal, level. Operating in subtle, individual, and informal ways, they are seemingly unseen in formal systems (The FII’s Feminist Glossary does not include ‘microfeminism’) and thus the need to coin a term that captures its essence. Women across urban and rural India have been exerting invisible but relentless efforts in challenging societal conventions and pressures. In this essay, I offer two case studies to showcase their informal trajectories of resistance. In urban settings, women continuously take steps to resist societal norms—whether negotiating salaries to counter the gender wage gap, defying college dress codes, or creating clubs to exchange experiences. But what about the women who keep our college corridors tidy? The ones who make our green tea while we negotiate our pay? How are they working against societal norms? This leads us to the case of Asha (name changed).
Asha, a jolly woman in her early thirties, works tirelessly to maintain every room of the girls’ hostel spick and span. She has two children whom she adores. Satisfied with her remuneration and thankful for the chance to work, she bears a tale of silent defiance. She left her husband’s house when she could no longer tolerate his abuse—physical, mental, emotional, and financial. Her drunken husband spent his earnings on betting and drinking, leaving her with no choice but to leave with her children. She went back to her hometown, where she was rejected by her very own mother—refused shelter in the house she had once lived in. But Asha refused to be defined by abandonment. With the help of her contacts, she got a cleaning job and rented a small room – enough to keep her little family safe. With her hard-earned cash, she sends her children to school, determined to provide them with a future that is different from hers. But she still wears sindoor—not as a sign of marriage, but as armor, a subtle tactic to ward off unwanted attention in a world too eager to prey on single women.
This was the tale of one who fought a way through in the city world. But, what about the women who are shut within the dingy kitchens, serving their chulhas? The ones whose voices are overruled when it comes to issues of money—because that is a man’s prerogative? This takes us to the story of Shakuntala—my grandmother.
Shakuntala—forced to wed at a young age—gave birth to six children from a man twice her age. She labored in fields alongside farm hands, only to be confined within her dingy kitchen—the lone area she might own. Yet, as much as she seized that kitchen, so too did she silently assert possession of an obscured piece of plot within the family farm, a parcel of land did not take notice of. There, she nurtured a small quantity of brinjals, meticulously counting them before giving a basketful to her second son (whose daughter now writes this for you to read). While her family was sufficiently provided for (enough to bring three meals every day), she was still financially powerless. Sick of the economic dominance, she was set to make money her own way. Obediently, her son walked almost 20 kilometers—on foot, running, and hitching rides—to the town market, making sure that all the brinjals were sold. All this, just so his mother could finally hold money in her hands—money that was actually hers.
The world that surrounds us has been lovingly weaved by unseen women—their quiet resistance structuring the mundane. Not sweeping feminist campaigns, but individual, intimate, and local acts of resistance. These are the ‘good women,’ whose feminisms are as pertinent—though invisible, like microfeminisms themselves.
Asha and Shakuntala’s narratives are not exceptions; they are echoes of innumerable women throughout urban and rural India who etch spaces of defiance within the binds of their worlds. Their uprisings might not make the news, but they upset conventions in ways that count—bargaining dignity, self-determination, and survival in a world that frequently refuses to grant them agency. In lighting their own corners, these women light the fire within those who surround them—their daughters, their sons, their communities. Their own quiet rebellion sows the seeds of change, challenging the next generation to expect more, to shatter cycles, to make different choices.
