If we cannot shed the patriarchy imbued in our minds, we will just be our mothers – sacrificing our dreams in lieu of dirty dishes.
I didn’t hate the colour pink because I didn’t like it, I hated it because it was supposed to be a colour I should have liked as a girl.
He's far away, now. Enough that he can never touch me again. But he's still there.
A Dalit character breaks the fourth wall and walks out as the film's crew and the director watch her with mild amusement.
The notion that the women have to bear their menstrual cramps is deeply steeped in the patriarchal idea of womanhood.
A poem on child sexual abuse.
I sit underneath the tinted branches amidst raised fists of sisters, daughters, dadis, bob-haired LGBTQIA+ activists in khadi jackets and kameez.