ThinkHer

 T he Moment the Music Stopped Recently, I witnessed a moment of pure, seamless team joy—a bus journey filled with amazing energy, musical talent, and unfiltered laughter among friends. It was the kind of spontaneous, high-trust environment every team member or leader strives for. Then came the catch: the singalong shifted to songs heavy with sexual innuendo, laced with lewdness and objectification. This moment brings to the forefront a painful question many face in professional life: Should we speak up about content everyone else seems to be enjoying? Will we be branded the "killjoy," isolated, or risk losing the goodwill of the group? This dilemma is amplified when family members are present, yet the reported response was a dismissive suggestion that the content would be enjoyed regardless. Created in Canva The Unfair Burden of the 'Single Voice' Speaking up for rights inherently runs risks. Gender equality is often unfairly delegated as the sole responsibility o...

Haimabati Sen, born Haimabati Ghosh, was among the earliest female physicians in colonial India. A woman who transformed her unimaginable early trauma into a lifelong mission of healing and social change. Her life embodies resilience, quiet courage, and a refusal to accept the limitations imposed on women of her time. Haimabati was born in 1866 in the Khulna district of the then Bengal Presidency, into a Kulin Kayastha zamindar family. Her father, a zamindar, was unusually liberal for his time — he allowed her to wear male attire and to study alongside her male cousins, a rare privilege for a girl in that era. Y et, societal norms prevailed. At the mere age of nine, she was married off to a 45-year-old widower and Deputy Magistrate with two daughters nearly her own age.  Her husband’s behaviour exposed her, at a very young age, to unsettling and sexually abusive circumstances. He forced himself on her, leaving her frightened and still — “like a piece of wood,” she later wrote....

I first came across the term microfeminism while scrolling through Instagram reels. Microfeminism is all about the subtle, everyday choices we make that push back against ingrained gender biases and create more equitable spaces [1]. These acts may appear small—inviting women to speak first in meetings, or confidently taking space in public—but they carry the weight of intention and resistance. Change doesn’t always have to be loud or sweeping; often, it begins with these quiet but deliberate gestures. Made in Canva Though the word microfeminism has gained traction only recently (especially online), the concept—and even the term itself—has roots that go back much further. In a 1998 article from the book 'Wired-Up', academic Sue Turnbull explored how her students responded to everyday feminist practices [2]. Rather than aligning with broad, unified political frameworks, they were drawn to more grounded, personal actions that addressed gender dynamics in daily life. Turnbull noted...

I remember how, during my years of higher education, students in the sciences were seen as the most apolitical. Unlike universities, India’s scientific research institutions actively discouraged student politics.  When we had a few protests organized on campus, and there were professors who told students that if they were absent from the lab to participate in the protests, they should not come back to work.  This was all justified by the belief that science 'should not be politicized.' But I often felt the discomfort of being asked to detach my intellect from the political realities around me.  I knew that this so-called objectivity wasn’t objective at all, but a quiet reinforcement of the status quo. Wangari Maathai through protests and recognitions Reading about Wangari Maathai brought this tension into sharper focus. She was the first woman in East and Central Africa to earn a Ph.D. in Biology—and she refused the apolitical ideal so often pushed in scientific instituti...

Indian mythology is replete with numerous stories of the power and strength of women protagonists. Therefore, it is common to see the worship of goddesses and a deep reverence for female deities through grand rituals and festivals. Sadly, this symbolic power in the religious realm does not translate into respect and reverence for women in society [1]. This contradiction raises a crucial question: If female power is so deeply ingrained in cultural narratives, why does patriarchy continue to dominate? This contradiction led me to explore whether a matriarchal structure ever existed in India.  There is no conclusive answer to this, mostly because matriarchy is associated with early history, and evidence of it having existed and preceded patriarchy is uncertain.  The idea that patriarchy was a natural progression from early social structures has been increasingly challenged by feminist scholars, who argue that past societies where women may have held significant power have been er...