Taliban press meet snub shows how bias keeps women out of key spaces

Even with women journalists in the room, the tone hardly changed. “When we asked questions regarding the state of women in Afghanistan, there was complete denial that there was any problem,” Haidar says, “They said men and women were free to do as they wished, that women were being educated, although maybe not the way we see it, and that it wasn’t haram for women to study.”

For Haidar and other women journalists, it was important to be in that room not only to ask the hard questions, but also to mark their presence in a forum that had tried to erase them. “This was a minister of a regime that consistently effaced women. For him to have invited 18 journalists excluding women indicated that he wanted to bring that mindset into the press conference. If he had left India without addressing a mixed gathering, it would have set a bad precedent for them.”

After setting up a bad precedent, the second press conference clearly shows women journalists seated in the front rows. Pic/By Special Arrangement

She describes the second press conference as damage control. “The minister had come to show that Kabul and India’s ties were strengthening,” she says, “Instead, he would have left with questions on gender discrimination.”

Even as Haidar stresses that she hasn’t faced personal discrimination, there’s no denying the systemic bias that locks women out. And it often goes unnoticed by everyone except those affected. 

“Our male colleagues who attended the first conference genuinely didn’t realise until it was underway that there weren’t any female journalists in the room,” Haidar says, “Which is why, when the second press conference happened, they themselves gave us the front row seats and didn’t ask any questions. They understood what that moment meant.”

The embassy scene, with women journalists being left out altogether and then being placed front and centre in the photos at the second press meet, captures the double standards that decide which spaces and opportunities women get access to or don’t. Sometimes just getting into the same room as the boys’ club, or a seat at the table, requires a fight. 

Navneet Kaur

Even when women break into male-dominated spheres, such as law enforcement, the gender bias persists. Women are now an indispensable part of the police force; from women’s cells, or to counselling units that mediate family disputes, these roles rely on women officers’ lived experience and empathy to interact with citizens sensitively.

“Citizens generally trust women officers more than male officers,” says retired IPS officer and author Meeran Chadha Borwankar, “Junior police officers also felt that a lady officer would be more fair and just, which is mostly correct.” That trust stems from empathy; female survivors of crime often confide in women officers but hesitate with male officers. 

With the wider scope of police work, these roles are still perceived as “women’s domains”, but when it comes to rising up the ranks and competing with male officers on equal footing, it’s an entirely different story. 

Borwankar has spent decades navigating these contradictions. “I had to fight my case to get an independent district as police chief,” she recalls, “My file was 
returned twice by the Chief Minister’s office. There was apprehension about how a woman could lead an all-male district force.” Only after persistent effort did she secure the role, setting a precedent for others. 

For Sangita Marda Agarwal, the credit for one of the biggest projects in her life went to a man who had barely any participation. Pic/Sameer Abedi

The force has since changed. “Today, attitudes have shifted, with more than 12 per cent women in Maharashtra Police,” she says, “Women officers are more visible and confident.”

One sector that has been shining in India’s startup revolution is femtech, or technology-based products which address women’s health issues. Naturally, one would assume that women might be leading the charge in the field. The ground reality is quite the contrary. Let alone legacy sanitary napkin brands, even the leading menstrual health startups are all founded by men. 

So, it’s women who buy the products, female models who advertise them, but only men who decide what the consumer needs and what products get made. 
“Women control 80 per cent of consumer spending but receive only two per cent of VC [venture capital] funding,” reveals Navneet Kaur, founder of FemTech India, a consultancy firm that works with organisations within this industry. 

“Part of it is systemic funding gaps. Data consistently shows that women-led startups receive less investment than male-led ones — especially in femtech,” she adds.

Meeran Chadha Borwankar, retired IPS officer

The impact is pretty obvious. “There’s been a lack of deep understanding of women’s health issues and an underestimation of the market potential. Ten years ago, no one imagined menstrual cups or period panties would become mainstream, and yet here we are.”

She adds, “I wouldn’t see male-founded brands negatively. They helped prove that the category is scalable and opened the door for innovation. If those brands didn’t exist, we might not have seen the 10–15 new menstrual health startups that exist today.” But why did it take men to pave the way? “When a woman founder is at the helm, investors often seek a deeper understanding of her vision and proof of concept especially in women’s health. While male founders may often receive immediate trust, women have to prove their ideas and impact,” says Kaur.

STEM, too, remains dominated by men. Within that, India’s favourite profession — medicine — is now evenly pursued by men and women. But here too, there are certain specialisations that are perceived as “women’s work” (think obstetrics and gynaecology, or paediatrics), while superspecialities such as neurosurgery or cardiology, on the other hand are deemed “too demanding”.

From the 32,000 members of the Association of Surgeons of India, a mere 12.5 per cent, or 4160, are women. Most of these women are concentrated in ob/gyn and paediatrics, fields that are seen as more “female friendly and compatible with women’s unpaid caring responsibilities”, states a 2024 research paper, Health Systems in India, published in The BMJ (formerly British Medical Journal).

Suhasini Haidar, diplomatic affairs editor of The Hindu

There is something to be said about the power of lived experience; it makes sense that a woman who has gone through motherhood would likely be empathetic towards expecting patients. But that can’t be a reason to limit them to women’s health. After all, no one asks a male neurosurgeon if he’s ever had an aneurysm.

In neurosurgery — considered one of the toughest medical specialties with long hours and high risk — women account for less than 3 per cent of the doctors and trainees in India, states Women in Neurosurgery: The Road Less Travelled, a 2022 report published in Neurology India. Again, the problem is not talent, but patriarchal barriers. Another study from 2019, titled What it is to be a Woman Neurosurgeon in India: A Survey, found that 72.68 per cent of women neurosurgeons in the country were initially discouraged before joining this specialisation, often with concerns over how they would manage their family duties with the demands of the job.

Dr Suhani Kapadia [name changed] fought similar bias when she decided to pursue cardiology in the 1990s, a period when  it was even more rare for women to do so. 

“It’s a demanding field,” says the 62-year-old, “There’s a considerable exposure to radiation, which prevented women from entering the field, since a lot of them would be pregnant by the time they completed their superspecialisation. I luckily had a lot of family support.”

Today, the scene is different, and women are prioritising their careers. But she maintains, “It’s still very, very male-dominated.” 

“If men put in 100 per cent, we have to put in 150 per cent to prove our worth,” she says. “I remember during my exams, I was under immense pressure. I constantly felt I had to pass in my first attempt. I didn’t have the option to fail.”

Patients, too, come with patriarchal baggage. “They feel more comfortable with male cardiologists or believe they are more reliable. They may feel that women are not capable or won’t be available all the time because of other commitments. Even during my training period, patients would prefer my male colleagues. Only after talking to me a couple of times would they develop confidence, and then they would like to continue with me,” she laments. 

Sangita Marda Agarwal has spent nearly three decades in sales, a field in which women are prized for their ability to garner leads. And yet, when it’s time to give credit or promotions to managerial roles, they are left out in the cold.  

Agarwal recalls one of the biggest projects of her career, one she had handled from inception to closing. “When the credits were announced, when the claps rang out, they went to a man who was involved only towards the end,” she says, adding that this was a systemic problem. “I didn’t confront anyone, because who do you talk to in an ecosystem that is predominantly male?”

“I started as a salesgirl, literally knocking on doors,” says Agarwal, who is a fractional director of marketing and communications today. For over a decade, she trained more than a thousand women sales performers across eastern India. “Women are empathetic, they understand the client’s pulse. Sales is about emotional intelligence, not aggression,” she adds, “But everything that a man is applauded for, drive, ambition, focus, women have that too. It’s just that there’s so much less talk about it.”

Over the years, she’s heard versions of the same story repeated by women across industries, where they lost out on opportunities because of access. “You’ll be surprised how often women say they missed being part of the ‘core team’ because they didn’t stay back late,” Agarwal says. “That’s where the real connections are made; over drinks and late-night chats. Maybe the woman doesn’t stay back because she has a second shift at home, or maybe it’s about safety. But those rooms are where the power lies. It’s a boys’ club.” 

Her observation echoes that of a former police officer, who recalls being invited early in her career to a “bonding session” at a hotel. Expecting a formal gathering, she arrived with her husband. “When I asked my senior officer’s orderly where everyone was, he said they were all in the hotel room,” she says, “My husband realised we should leave as there would be drinking behind closed doors. All the senior officers at the time were male.” Those spaces, albeit unsafe, are also where gossip, networks, and promotions are shaped. “If you’re not part of that circle, you’re out of the loop,” the officer tells us.

Agarwal has since channelled her experiences into creating safer, stronger networks of her own. Her emphasis now is on allyship. “When a man repeats a point that a woman just made in a meeting, another woman should step in and say, ‘That’s exactly what she was saying, can we let her finish?’” she explains. “That’s how we build allies. Women supporting women, and men being trained to do the same.” 

Like sales, public relations too is an outward-facing, people-oriented profession in which women are often pushed to the front. According to advertising news platform AdGully, women make up 73 per cent of the PR industry in the country. But most of them remain in the trenches, blocked from rising to the top job. A simple Google search shows that of the 10 leading PR firms in India, only three have female CEOs.

Women who leave their jobs to start their own agencies hit the same sexist roadblocks. “For female-led agencies, when you’re just starting out, it takes people some time to take you seriously,” says Bhavika Morparia-Ashar, CEO and founder of Elevate Promotions. “But once you work hard and make a name for yourself, I don’t think it’s a struggle after that,” she adds, while admitting that women have to work twice as hard to achieve the same goal. 

“I also feel like in the fashion PR space, there are more women that head companies, but outside of fashion, it’s not so women-dominated,” she says. Women tend to gravitate towards fashion more, she explains. “Beyond that, emotional intelligence is such a big part of our job. We’re constantly put in positions where we’re handling all different kinds of personalities or egos, whether it’s celebrities or celebrity stylists, or designers. That’s something women are better at than men.”

Today, Morparia heads an all-women’s team at Elevate. “The kind of empathy and support women colleagues have for each other is beyond measure. I have a lot of stylists that have recommended Elevate to some of the best designers we have right now. Over time, having an all-women’s team just felt correct. There’s a collaborative nature that comes so naturally, and everyone just gets it. It’s not about excluding men, more about creating a safe space for women where we can push each other and thrive.”

This harks back to something woman supercop Borwankar said after recounting how she had ended up heading an all-male team. “We have finally arrived,” she says, with a note of conviction and a reminder that visibility, though long delayed, is no longer negotiable.

80%
Of consumer spending is controlled by women

vs

2%
Of venture capital funding is given to women founders

‘Technical issue’

Amir Khan Muttaqi, Afghan Foreign Minister

The press conference was organised on short notice… It was more of a technical issue… Our colleagues had decided to send the invitation to a specific list of journalists. There were no other intentions other than that Statement from the Afghanistan delegation

‘Gender roles at play’

Vipasha Attri

Vipasha Attri, gender practitioner at Pratham Education Foundation, says, “In several fields which are supposed to be ‘women-majority’, you’ll find men are at the top there too. Fields like HR, social work — there’ll be an all-female team but the manager will be a man. 

“There are gender roles at play here. Women are assigned the role of child-bearer. Which means it’s assumed that her primary responsibility will always be the household. For men, it is assumed that they will carry out the bread-winner responsibility under any conditions. And so it is assumed that men are better at carrying out roles with more responsibility or seniority because their gender role depends on it. Women might leave to prioritise the household. 

“Plus, with the patriarchy, it is assumed that women are less skilled than men. And this adversely affects their chances of being hired, getting increments and promotions.”

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