Being a Woman and Living with Ambivalence

 

Recently, the CBSE board exam results were declared. Just like in previous years, girls outshined boys once again. The headlines praised their performance, families rejoiced, and hopes soared. Many of these bright young women will pursue professional courses, while others will choose to follow their passions in diverse fields. A fair number will land respectable jobs, gain financial independence, and for a while, it may seem like equality is finally within reach.

And yet, when we look at the topmost positions in most professions—corporate, academic, political, or scientific—how many are occupied by women?

Very few.

This irony bothers me deeply. It’s not because women lack talent, drive, or intelligence. The problem lies elsewhere—hidden in the undercurrents of societal expectations, familial pressures, and the fine print of being a woman.

A large number of women begin their careers with promise, but many drop out of the workforce around the time of marriage. Some leave willingly, looking forward to a new chapter. But others are gradually, and sometimes subtly, pushed into quitting. The reasons vary. Some are expected to relocate for their spouse’s job. Some are told that the family’s peace depends on their presence at home. Some are gently reminded that they can’t possibly handle both work and home without falling short somewhere. And eventually, many do resign. Not because they are weak, but because they are made to believe inadequate for trying to do it all.

Those who make it past this stage face another fork in the road, when they choose to start a family. Motherhood is beautiful, no doubt. But it comes with its own heavy toll on a woman’s career. Maternity breaks often result in missed promotions, lost opportunities, and in some cases, complete disconnection from the professional world.

And even when women return to work, they do so with a constant undercurrent of guilt. Am I spending enough time with my child? Am I being too ambitious? Am I being judged? Spending enough time and being ambitious is debatable but being judges! Sure!

At times, the judgment is not even external. It creeps in quietly, from within.

I speak not just from observation, but from personal experience. I’ve lived this ambivalence. My work has always meant more to me than just financial security. It gave me purpose, identity, and the satisfaction of contributing to society beyond the walls of my home. Yet, when the time came for someone in the family to take a step back, I did. No one asked me to quit. There was no dramatic confrontation. But as one of our team had to do it, I volunteered. It is just that my better half did not offer. As, if that wasn't a choice at all. It was just silently understood Or so I told myself.

Yes, that was my choice. I did it willingly. But I ask, did I truly have a choice?

There was no extended support system—no mother, no mother-in-law who could step in long-term. I couldn’t sabotage another woman’s freedom to salvage my own. And so, I stepped back. I paused a promising career. I chose family.

Today, when I reflect on that decision, I do so without resentment but with realism. I am among the relatively privileged ones. I have a voice in my household. I’m loved, respected, and included in decisions. My partner tries to help—most of the time. He adjusts his schedule occasionally, contributes to household chores, and doesn’t flinch from changing diapers. But is the primary responsibility of the home ever his? Not quite. The emotional and mental load still lies largely with me.

And parenting? That’s an entirely different ballgame. While men may participate physically, the emotional involvement, the patience to teach, play, and gently guide children; that seems to be a rare trait among them. Most women are just expected to have it.

Now, as my children grow, I find myself in yet another phase. A phase where I must prepare them to take flight, to become independent and responsible citizens. And here again, my inner conflict rears its head.

Have I, in my well-intentioned sacrifices, unconsciously set a pattern for them?

I try to raise my son and daughter equally. I talk about respect, independence, and shared responsibilities. But haven’t I also shown them that when the time comes, it’s the woman who compromises? The one who quietly folds away her dreams in the name of duty?

Values, after all, are not merely taught. They are caught. And that frightens me.

There are fleeting moments when a sense of loss catches me off guard. A strange emptiness, a pang I cannot always name. Those are the times I momentarily dislike being a woman—not because I don’t cherish who I am, but because I hate the limitations imposed on me by this world.

And yet, if you ask me, would I want to be a man in my next life?

A shiver runs down my spine.

No, I would still choose to be a woman.

I love being one. I am kind, compassionate, empathetic, and resilient. I have the ability to nurture, to listen, to communicate with care. I’m capable of immense strength and silent courage. I can multitask with grace. I can lead, support, and uplift—all at once.

Men, too, carry burdens. They are often not allowed to express their vulnerability. They are expected to be providers, stoic, and emotionally restrained. That is their cage. And I haven’t lived in it to fully understand its pain.

This isn’t a war of the sexes.

It’s a plea for balance.

Society won’t change overnight. But change begins with acknowledgement. And empathy. More men are stepping up. More women are pushing boundaries. Small, everyday efforts are shaping a better tomorrow. But we still have a long road ahead before gender equality becomes a lived reality, not just a buzzword.

As for me, I continue to walk this tightrope between contentment and compromise. I try to find joy in what I do and meaning in what I gave up. I strive to leave a different legacy for my children. One where choice isn’t dictated by gender but guided by passion, purpose, and mutual respect.

Because in the end, what we model matters more than what we preach.