Unlearning the Gender Prison: Inside the Fight for a More Inclusive India

A few days ago, I posted a simple request on WhatsApp: "I need a female driver."

- DR. SUPREET GILL

Within minutes, my phone was buzzing not with helpful contacts, but with laughing emojis. The message, to many, was a punchline. The juxtaposition of "female" and "driver" was, it seemed, inherently comical. I paused to reflect on this seemingly trivial digital reaction. We live in a nation that has seen women lead states, command corporations, and pilot fighter jets. We rightly celebrate these achievements as markers of progress. Yet, the idea of a woman professionally driving a car—a role culturally coded as masculine—can still be met with casual derision. Why?

The answer lies in the invisible, yet profoundly powerful, prison of gender roles that confines us all. This prison is built in our infancy, its walls constructed with colors—blue for boys, pink for girls—and its bars forged from the toys we are given. Boys receive cars, guns, and building blocks, the tools of action and aggression. Girls are handed dolls and kitchen sets, the tools of nurturing and domesticity. We are assigned our life's script before we can even read.

This conditioning extends to the most fundamental part of our being: our emotions. We relentlessly police our children's feelings based on their gender. We command our sons, "Boys don't cry," teaching them that vulnerability is a form of failure and forcing them to suppress half of their emotional spectrum. We advise our daughters to be gentle, quiet, and accommodating, conditioning them to shrink their ambitions and silence their own voices for the comfort of others.