By Swapnila Bhoite
This article contains discussion of misogyny and patriarchy
The Dream That Was Planted
In the sun-drenched lanes of 90s India, where dusty winds carried ambition and societal rules wrapped tightly around every household, a quiet revolution took root. It whispered through the minds of young girls: ‘Earn your own, be your own.’
Financial freedom was seen as the golden ticket—one that would lift women from dependence, silence the whispers of burden, and carve a path to long-deserved respect. The dream was noble, necessary, and nurtured with fierce dedication.
Girls were raised not just to read and write, but to rise; to share the load, to earn beside their brothers, to one day stand beside their husbands, not behind them.
And so began the march—not just in India, but across the world.
A Journey of Becoming—and the Wall We Hit
Women rose.
With books in hands and hope in hearts, they stitched their dreams into degrees, small businesses, late-night shifts, and morning train rides. They learned, they worked, they earned.
Some without formal education, some against family wishes. All with one goal: to be seen, to be respected.
Fast forward to now. The woman of today is a force—educated, employed, evolved. She leads meetings and kitchens, lifts weights and spirits, travels solo, loves freely, and heals deeply. She dreams bigger and louder.
But here’s the twist in the tale: despite the progress, something feels incomplete.
Respect? Often conditional.
Freedom? Still questioned.
Safety? A distant promise.
Decision-making power? Negotiated, not granted.
The irony?
The woman changed. But the world around her—men, mindsets, institutions—stayed rooted.
She evolved; her ecosystem did not.
Yes, she was allowed to work—but often to support a struggling home, not because she deserved autonomy. Yes, she was allowed to earn—but not necessarily to lead. She learned to balance, but society failed to rebalance itself.
She’s now expected to juggle salaries and spatulas, paychecks and parenting, boardrooms and bedrooms. And if she dares outsource cooking or skip a school pick-up? She’s judged.
Her financial success isn’t met with applause—but suspicion.
Her solitude isn’t freedom—it’s called selfishness.
Her voice? Too loud.
Her ambition? Too great.
Even love has become a battlefield.
A woman with opinions is called difficult.
A woman with standards, arrogant.
A woman without a man, a failure in disguise.
And now? The system whispers something sinister in her ears:
‘Maybe independence made you lonely.’
‘Maybe ease is better than equality.’
Gaslighting, masked as concern, pushing her gently back into the box she fought so hard to escape.
Because society fears not only women who earn—
It fears women who lead.
Women who decide.
Women who choose themselves.
The Unfinished Symphony
Let’s say this out loud—financial freedom is not the destination.
It was only the gate.
The journey ahead is about reforming the system.
The real revolution lies ahead:
In transforming mindsets.
In rewriting inherited roles.
In teaching boys to collaborate, not command.
In unlearning shame and relearning respect.
Equality isn’t achieved by counting salaries.
It is earned when we start valuing choice, honouring individuality, and dissolving gendered expectations.
A community:
Where a man cooking dinner is normal, not noble.
Where a woman leading is expected, not exceptional.
Where independence doesn’t isolate, it empowers.
We must raise boys who see power as partnership.
Who understand that respect isn’t granted—it’s earned through empathy.
We must challenge every inherited idea that limits a woman to what she sacrifices, instead of celebrating what she chooses.
We need a world where a woman is not applauded for suffering silently—but celebrated for standing strong.
Where her identity is not sacrificed at the altar of tradition—but honoured at the table of progress.
Where she’s not tolerated when she rises—but trusted to lead.
Let’s keep building.
Let’s keep questioning.
Let’s not settle for applause if it comes without equality.
Because freedom without respect is just another form of control.
To all the women walking this tightrope between dreams and duties:
You are seen.
You are worthy.
You are enough.
And until the world says that to you without a ‘but’—we will keep writing, rising, roaring. ✨💪