Feminism for Polarised Times

Compassion without complicity is possible — and necessary

Published in The Hindu

Family in front of Parliament, Saad Akhtar (https://www.flickr.com/people/17155762@N00)

As a woman, I often find myself on the edges of the feminist discourse. It’s not because I’m “not a feminist” in the way some young women say. But I do understand that clumsily expressed discomfort. Today’s mainstream feminist discourse in the urban-sphere and social media can feel like a minefield—demanding disclaimers and caveats before one can even step in.

There are two distinct terrains when we talk about women’s issues. One is the structural—the way the design itself of our society and organizations can keep women at the margins. The other is the realm of interpersonal relationships between men and women. These overlap, but increasingly I find that imposing the structural lens too heavily onto the personal risks distorting both. It flattens the richness of human relationships, turning every minor conflict and difference of opinion into a battle for power—even when the relationship may be undergirded with love, care, and willingness to negotiate.

It is true that the personal is political, shaped by deeper hierarchies. But interpersonal relationships are often not reducible to oppression or domination. Consider the terrain of family life in India. Many men labour quietly—denying themselves comfort, enduring difficult work environments—to support their families. That implicit sense of love and duty creates a space of exchange, of give and take. A conservative father may limit his daughter’s freedom, yes—but he may also be cooking her breakfast while she sleeps. A husband may still expect dinner on the table, but also give his entire monthly earnings to his wife to keep and spend. These are not straightforward expressions of patriarchy; they are messy, contradictory, deeply human.

In my own circles, I see men depending more on their wives—emotionally, practically—and that dependence inevitably reshapes the balance in those relationships. Yes, problematic behaviors exist. But they often need to be addressed on their own terms, with context and compassion—not simply labelled as misogyny or seen as evidence of oppressive intent. After all, social change doesn’t come only from public protest and policy reform. It comes from millions of daily negotiations—quiet shifts in family routines, small acts of solidarity, the rethinking of roles and expectations within everyday lives.

And often, the stories of women from marginalised backgrounds who have entered the mainstream and achieved unexpected successes include unexpected allies. A father who insists on sending his daughter to college. A husband who supports his wife’s work even when tradition dictates otherwise. These accounts don’t always fit neatly into a structural critique of patriarchy or a desire to parlay the women’s work for monetary compensation, but they are part of the real story of progress.

This is not to deny structural injustice. Far from it. Structural issues - need to be addressed head on. Where women’s agency is denied forcibly, we need to address that, through societal change but state power too. Daughters who are murdered at birth, or for choosing to pursue love or a different kind of life. The grassroots elected representative who is made her own proxy by her husband. Women who lack basic safety as they go about their daily life. Work structures and organizations which exclude women by the very symmetry of their design. Women's empowerment requires addressing multiple interlocking factors: economic independence, legal protections, education, social networks, and cultural shifts. To address these structural issues, we must invest in and build state capacity to ensure that institutions actually deliver the protections they promise on paper. However, again the most effective interventions work at multiple levels simultaneously - the state and society - and are context-sensitive rather than ideologically rigid.

The nature of constraints on a financially independent urban woman negotiating household responsibilities is not the same as that of a village woman fearing rape as she steps out at night to access a toilet. Yet too often, feminist discourse collapses these into a single narrative. It moves too seamlessly between the structural and the interpersonal, the privileged and the vulnerable—sometimes masking inequity more than illuminating it.

This blurring of vastly different inequities—some life-threatening, others negotiable—risks alienating people rather than mobilising them. A militant tone may alienate others, especially if they themselves feel embattled as is evident that many men do. And while that embattlement is sometimes overstated or misdirected, it is not always imagined. A rickshaw puller who gets slapped around by the police is not necessarily enjoying “male privilege.” A middle-class or lower-income man who goes to work may endure dehumanising public humiliations. While his wife may be doing tremendous unpaid work at home, she may also be insulated from some of those public indignities. These are not arguments against feminism—but they are calls for a feminism grounded in compassion, that acknowledges multiple forms of suffering and responsibility.

Writing this seems like stepping into a minefield. Like one is being unnecessarily moderate, complicit in patriarchal structures of power. However, this is also a response to the current moment which is rife with antagonism and polarisation across all fronts. A more compassionate feminism may, if nothing else, be tactically right in this moment, to engender support instead of backlash. When feminist discourse recognises the emotional and economic pressures that shape the lives of men—particularly those at the margins—it invites solidarity rather than defensiveness. Many men are not necessarily seeking dominance but to fit within societal mores of manhood, they are trying, in their own way, to survive—maybe, even to support.

Perhaps what we need now is a feminism that can hold complexity not just within its own ranks but across society. One that can confront injustice without antagonism. One that can distinguish between structure and sentiment, between oppression and confusion, between cultural patterns and individual acts. A feminism that can accommodate contradiction without becoming complicit.

This is especially because unlike other battles for rights, within the terrain of male-female relationships, there is no way to segregate the personal from the public. Thus if we adopt an antagonistic framework, we will bring the battle home. That may ultimately be necessary in some cases, but it need not be the starting point.

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