Movember 2024: Confessing My Hypocrisies as a Feminist on My Husband’s B'Day

Before November gets over in two days, I’d like to seize the opportunity of Movember to talk about men’s mental health. I was supposed to post this essay yesterday but it was a weekday and we were low-key celebrating my husband’s birthday last night. I baked him a carrot cake from scratch (a first for me), prepared the icing (also a first) with a friend over the phone and organized a cozy celebration with my kids and helper. The essay had to wait.

First things first - I am a feminist. To me, feminism is simple: I stand for a woman’s basic human rights. I thought this definition was universal until I had conversations with a group of teenage podcasters where an American acquaintance seemed visibly uneasy discussing feminism. Of course, I knew there was a gap in our struggles but, the experience of witnessing a modern, liberal woman squirming while speaking of feminism was new to me.

For many Indian women, feminism is still about survival - fighting dowry deaths, honor killings, securing education, and gaining autonomy over choosing our partner, our career, or even who steps in to help when the house help is away. For us, it’s still about securing basic dignity, basic human rights.

And yet, despite thinking of myself as a strong, opinionated feminist, I’ve begun to notice my own double standards which I suspect are rooted in the muddled interplay of culture, tradition, religion, and my upbringing. Ironically, a lot of this realization has come through the lens of my relationship with my husband so it’s only apt that I write the confession below as a birthday gift to him!

Double Standards in Gender Roles

A few days ago, my 12-year-old daughter and I were discussing gender roles and household chores. She remarked, “It depends on who can do what.”

Major trigger! Most men of my generation have managed to dodge chores by claiming they ‘just can’t’, facilitated by an army of mommies who made them believe they’re just biologically incapable. So, I countered, getting all emotional: “Sweetheart, if a girl can cook and clean, so can a guy.”

She surprised me with her response though: “But Mamma, if the guy has a job and the girl doesn’t, then maybe the girl could take care of the chores. Don’t forget, girls can still say no to working in an office, but guys can’t.”

Her words stung. There was a time when I wouldn’t have minded my husband taking a career break to reflect and recharge - back when I had stable employment. Now that I don’t, I’m not sure I feel the same.

My teenage son once mentioned wanting a career that allowed him to work from home so he could spend more time with his family - it was a dig at his father who our son saw as always being away at work. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his father doesn’t have the privilege of making such a choice. Bills don’t pay themselves. Yet, if my daughter were to marry someone who wanted to be a stay-at-home husband, would I be okay with it?

My double standards show themselves up in other areas too. We have a house-help, and I owe the survival of my marriage to her. It took me a long long time to train my family to understand that I do not replace the house-help when she’s away. I expect my husband to pitch in with house chores. But I also want him to pay the bills, take the cars for servicing - mine and his - and remember to renew our passports. In nearly two decades of our marriage, I’ve never been to the car service center alone or taken responsibility of any paper work - unless he asks me to.

When he so much as reminds me to check the car tyres’ air pressure, I roll my eyes and scream in my head, “That’s not my job!” So, yes, I expect him to juggle domestic tasks, financial responsibilities, and logistical errands.

Years ago, in the middle of a heated argument, I told him, “Show me that you’re more than just an ATM machine!” Back then, I had a stable income. Now, I’m not so sure if I have a problem with him being our ATM machine.

The Cooking Paradox

My relationship with cooking has always been twisted. Growing up, I watched the women in my family cook out of obligation. They didn’t have a choice. I promised myself that I would always ‘work’ so I wouldn’t ‘have’ to cook. Yet, I find myself beaming with pride when my son experiments with new recipes. Why does cooking feel like servitude when I do it but seems cool and rewarding when he does?

Men, Therapy, and Breaking the Silence

As I reflect on men’s mental health, I can’t ignore my own contradictions as a feminist. Crying inequality while holding onto traditional gender roles when it’s convenient just doesn’t seem fair. While patriarchy has served men well - and they’ve been conveniently silent about it - I also believe it hasn’t been kind to them either. One major fallout of the system is that women, in particular, and families, in general, have suffered because men haven’t felt brave enough to ask for help when they need it.

I’ve written and spoken openly about my mental health struggles and my journey with therapy. As a parent and an educator, I’ve had a significant number of women approach me to discuss their children’s mental health. When I share my family’s experience with therapy, often, they confide that they wish their husbands would join therapy!

It’s an open secret: many of us women are in therapy because the men in our lives won’t go. I mean, it’s always ideal when both partners engage in therapy - the emotional work needs to be shared. But for now, it seems women are bearing the burden of doing the emotional work on mental health front too.

I wish more parents understood that our children are often the byproduct of OUR unresolved issues. Their ‘troubles’ are a clear reflection of the trauma WE have passed on to them - knowingly or unknowingly.

To my fellow women - stop treating men like gods, no matter what your faith or family tells you. I speak up to my husband because he’s not just my partner but also because he’s my children’s father. And he shows me the mirror when I’m at fault too. As parents, we’re both accountable to our kids. It’s not comfortable and almost always results in meltdowns by one party or another, and yet, I assure you, in the long run the ‘fight’ is always worth it. We owe it to our kids.

To the men: I wish you’d treat therapy and mental health as yet another essential responsibility you owe to your family.

……

Baking the carrot cake last night didn’t feel like servitude, and I count that as a small win in my ongoing battle with internalized gender roles. But the bigger win, for me, is the courage to write and share this essay without shame.

And in case anyone’s wondering - yes, the birthday boy has received his gift!

Carrot cake baked by me. Chicken burgers made by my son.