Call me Aunty

We reduced the Indian Aunty to a punchline. She’s having the last laugh. Older women now have money, confidence, style and chill. They don’t want to gossip or babysit. They've transformed themselves, and us too

- Arshia

Let’s revise. On the family tree, Aunty simply means a parent's female sibling. In south Asian culture, Aunty is how you'd respectfully address any older woman.

Aunty, in African communities, is the wise OG. Among LGBTQ+ folks, Aunty is another kind of OG - the flamboyant, nurturing, gay man who's always on your side.

But Aunty, Indian pop culture has long led us to believe, denotes some kind of crotchety neighbourhood crone. The one who hovers over balcony railings, eavesdropping; who dispenses unsolicited advice; polices young women’s clothes, choices, even how they laugh. The term quickly became shorthand for ageing. “Don't call me Aunty” has been a punchline to mock women’s anxieties about youth and desirability. The 2012 song from Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu goes “Auntyji, auntyji, get up and dance,” because older women apparently need permission to have fun.

Now, let’s revise again for 2026. On TikTok and Instagram, #RichAunty is a single, child-free older woman with disposable income, impeccable taste and a diverse chosen family. Meera Syal has titled her upcoming memoir Vigilauntie. Aunty Fashion indicates high-quality classic pieces, worn by young women who think trends are callow. Aunty, meanwhile, is a woman who has decentred men and marriage. She takes vacations, she doesn’t tut-tut if you haven't had your first baby by 30. She's done being deferential. She's in control of her own life and isn't peeking into yours. She's not giving opinions, she’s giving life goals. Call her Aunty. She doesn't mind.

Here's how the definition has changed.

Big break