Ten years ago I was a card-carrying feminist. With placards in our hands and fire in our eyes, we thought we could change the world. And we sure as hell tried. We thought we could do simply anything. And we did.

When my college, a women's college, took the decision to admit men, time stood still in Oakland, California. Men? Here? Sorry, we said.

The world watched in complete awe as we refused to let happen. We went on strike. Yes, that's what it was. A complete shutdown, unless our demands were met.

And incredible as it may sound so many years later, the trustees eventually overturned their decision. My beautiful wooded campus remains a college only for women. Like I said, we thought we could do simply anything. And we did.

To this day, not many have understood what we did and why we did it. It was not a case of we-hate-men, although that's what a whole lot of people thought. Quite the opposite. There's nothing wrong with them. But this was a place for women. A place to learn and live without the pressures of a co-ed education. But then this is another story.

There are other things I remember well. I remember there were times when I was quite militant. A man opening a door for me... no thanks, I would say. Listen, I can open my own door. I don't need anybody to open any doors for me. I have two hands like you do...

Or a harmless compliment at work. You look good in a sari, the hapless fellow would say. Huh? What? Did you compliment your male colleagues as well? And what if I look good? Does it have anything to do with my work, my ability, blah, blah, blah!!! The words would hit him like a ton of bricks.

Waiting in line to fill in a form, the question would always be, "You are Mrs?" My blood would boil. What do you mean Mrs?? I would first thunder. Mrs? Mrs? By the fourth time it would be that incredible high-pitched sound leading to a complete tirade on anything.

I can see myself clearly then. And what a picture it must have been.

So here's the catch... when and where did everything begin to change for me? From my stubborn belief that no matter what I did or said, as a woman I could do it all, have it all and change it all. Now I see myself, there are quite a few chinks in the armour. I know my beliefs remain intact. It's the actions I'm a bit worried about.

Last month my daughter started school, a co-ed school. I was adamant that she go there. Now when I want to sound important with the various repairmen, I start by saying, "I am Mrs..." Once I caught myself saying to my daughter, "Sweetie why don't you just play with your dolls?" Horror of horrors she has six Barbie's. And loves them thoroughly and unconditionally. Another time I referred to something as a man's job!

My friends say these are not important things. But I think they are. Perhaps they are not as important as ensuring that we have a right to vote, or that we don't burn on our husbands' funeral pyres or that our female children are not snatched away at birth with life sucked away a moment or two later.

Perhaps these are trivial things that really do not matter in the larger scheme of things. When in fact, poverty and lack of education are what we should be targetting. When in fact, vocational guidance and health -- women's health -- issues should be in the spotlight.

In my scheme of things what is important is that we (my husband and I) provide a nurturing and fulfilling environment to our family. That we focus on breaking myths and stereotypes in our own lives. If our daughter wants to be an astronaut, right on! If she wants to play mummy-daddy with her Barbie's, that's ok too.

It's a matter of how you see it. Some say we have a long way to go. That's true. But we've come a long way too. We work, we juggle our careers with our family, we have a say in our mohallas and in the government. Remember, we even had a woman PM, we even have a day that celebrates us, we are writers and artists, we are actors and directors, we are sprinters and swimmers, we are mothers, providers and protectors.

We are a voice. One that is heard.

As you can see times have changed. And so have I.

Illustration: Lynette Menezes

Tell us what you think of this diary

Be part of an exciting venture!

  Write a Diary!