Women's Day
Because treating women as equals isn’t fairness—it’s basic humanity
What is Women’s Day?
Another day to pretend we care?
One day of flowers.
364 days of silence.
We celebrate women.
But why? What have they won?
They breathe the same air.
Eat the same food.
Blood runs through their veins, same as yours.
But don’t be fooled.
They are not the same.
Not in the eyes of the world.
They are beaten.
Ignored.
Silenced.
Controlled.
Erased.
And still—asked to be grateful.
Be soft, they say.
Be kind, they say.
But when she speaks, they silence her.
When she fights, they punish her.
When she wins, they shrink her down.
Why must we treat them well?
This is not about fairness.
Not about equality.
It’s about humanity.
It spreads in whispers,
in rules unspoken but never broken.
A sickness passed from fathers to sons,
from mothers to daughter in the name of duty,
from laws to lives,
until even she believes she was made to be less.
We treat stray dogs with more kindness
than we do half the world’s people.
So what gives?
Some call it patriarchy.
Some call it culture.
Some call it religion.
I call it what it is—A crime.
A sickness that must be wiped from this world.
So tell me—do you stand against it?
Or are you part of the disease?
Backstory: Two Versions of Me
I grew up in a house full of women.
A mother who carried more weight than she should have.
A grandmother who spoke in sighs more than words.
Aunts and sisters who filled every space, yet somehow had none of their own.
Men made the decisions.
Women made the tea.
It was an unspoken rule in our small town of Aluva, Kerala—the kitchen was theirs, the table was not. They were always on call, always present, yet invisible when it mattered. Alive, but not truly living.
I was two people at once.
One version of me saw their pain, felt the injustice in the way their lives were shaped by decisions they never made.
The other basked in privilege, the quiet understanding that being a man in the family meant I could step into spaces they never could.
And that contradiction shaped me.
We have come a long way since then. But some days, I wonder—have we come far enough? Because even now, in boardrooms, in families, in societies that claim progress, the kitchen door is still open, and the table is still full of men.
That is why I wrote this.
Because Women’s Day should not be a day.
It should be a reckoning.