I’m typing this in Faridabad heat at like 11 p.m., fan rattling like it’s about to give up, power probably gonna cut any second, and my Twitter timeline (sorry, X, whatever) is full of women holding entire movements together while the rest of us are just trying not to cry in public. Last month I reposted something about the latest farmers’ protest wave here and then immediately felt guilty because what have I actually done besides like and rage-tweet from bed?
I keep thinking back to that one WhatsApp group I’m in—mostly women, some aunties, some college girls half my age. They organized a tiny candlelight thing outside the district court when that horrible rape case verdict came out. I said I’d come, I didn’t, I told myself the traffic was insane and it was too hot and I had work. Truth? I was scared of looking stupid standing there with a candle nobody asked me to bring. That’s the embarrassing part of my relationship with the role of women in modern social movements: I admire it fiercely and then hide when it’s time to show up.
When Women Carry Movements on Their Backs (and Still Get Called Emotional)
You see it everywhere if you pay attention. #MeToo didn’t just happen in Hollywood—it ripped through Indian workplaces, college campuses, even small-town gossip circles. Women here started naming names in regional languages on Instagram stories that disappeared after 24 hours because family might see. That fragility and bravery at the same time? That’s the role of women in modern social movements right now.
I remember sitting in a friend’s tiny flat in Delhi in 2019 when the CAA protests were everywhere. Her mom, this soft-spoken 60-something woman who still calls me “beta,” was the one teaching everyone how to make a proper placard that wouldn’t tear in the rain. Meanwhile the guys were mostly taking selfies. No shade, just observation. Women were feeding people, making sure kids didn’t get trampled, remembering who needed meds. Logistics queens. And then the next day articles would call the whole thing “hysterical.”
Same pattern, different decade.
- We organize
- We feed
- We remember names
- We get called too emotional anyway
The Parts I Hate Admitting About My Own Role (or Lack Of)
I’ve ghosted three different volunteer chats in the last year. One was for menstrual hygiene drives, one was anti-caste stuff, one was climate. Each time I felt that hot wave of “I’m not good enough for this” and just… stopped opening the app. Then I see women half my age getting tear-gassed or doxxed or both and I’m sitting here refreshing for updates like a coward.
That contradiction lives in my chest every day. I want to cheer every woman who steps up in these movements. I also want to crawl under my bed when I think about stepping up myself.
But watching how women are reshaping protests—using Instagram Reels to explain complicated laws in five languages, turning mourning into sit-ins, making sure Dalit women’s voices aren’t drowned out in the feminist WhatsApp forwards—that part still lights something up in me.
Climate Rage, Farmer Rage, All of It
Greta got famous but the women farmers in Punjab and Haryana have been sitting on borders for years. They’re the ones cooking langar in 45-degree heat, arguing with cops, teaching city kids what a real protest looks like. The role of women in modern social movements here isn’t glamorous Instagram stories. It’s calloused hands, cracked heels, hoarse voices from chanting at dawn.
I tried going to one dharna once. Lasted forty minutes before the heat made me dizzy and I slunk back to the metro with my tail between my legs. Brought two water bottles like that was helpful. Left feeling useless.
Still think about those women every time the news mentions MSP or stubble burning. They’re not waiting for permission.
So Where Does That Leave Me (and Maybe You)?
I don’t have a tidy conclusion because my feelings about the role of women in modern social movements aren’t tidy. Some days I’m proud as hell. Some days I’m ashamed I’m mostly a spectator. Most days I’m both at once.
If any of this sounds familiar, maybe start stupid-small like I’m trying to. Comment on one post with something real instead of a fire emoji. Text one friend asking how she’s actually doing. Show up to one thing even if you leave early and sweaty.
And if you’re already out there doing the heavy lifting—thank you. Seriously. I see you even when I’m hiding. What about you? Where are you at with all this? Drop it below or just lurk, no judgment.
