Written by Guncha Shandilya, Srishti Negi

Women have long inhabited the roles of “bhabhi ji” and “behen ji” in the public sphere, bound into inexplicable ties with the neighbourhood uncles, the society watchman or the delivery man. In a way, these terms, born out of proximity and not necessarily familial ties, define the social fabric. They can even be endearing. After all, the neighbourhood is supposed to be one giant family.

But there’s another way to look at it, one that’s largely underplayed. These terms impose a relationship where there isn’t one. They create a psychological sense of responsibility and belonging tied to patriarchal hierarchies. Women are asked to occupy spaces only as someone’s wife or sister. And while these unsaid mores cause little damage in our everyday lives, their seepage into the political system raises serious questions. One only has to look at the names of several women-centric welfare campaigns and schemes to deduce it.

When the ‘Beti Bachao, Beti Padhao’ (‘Save daughters, educate daughters’) campaign was launched in 2015, as daughters of the nation, we too felt a sense of great pride. There’s nothing more heartening than witnessing a State that cares about its girl child. It was a powerful call against female foeticide, and an
attempt to bring real, grassroots-level change. And though we are grateful, one question bugs us incessantly: Did the scheme have to be named after ‘betis’? Could it have instead been ‘Save and Educate Girls’ (‘Ladki Bachao, Ladki Padhao’)?

Of course, one must acknowledge that the term ‘beti’, or daughter, resonates culturally with families, the mothers and the fathers. Perhaps the call to save the girl child needs a familiar term that tugs on the public’s emotions. But it also serves as another purpose. The State appears as a ‘diligent father’, and the leader casts himself in the role of the beti’s protector.

Another example to illustrate our point is the ‘Mukhyamantri – Majhi Ladki Bahin Yojna’ in Maharashtra and ‘Mukhyamantri Laadli Behen Yojna’ in Madhya Pradesh. Both translate to “my dear sister”. Similarly, in Bihar, the Congress-RJD-led Mahagathbandhan had promised a cash-transfer scheme, called a “Maai-Behan Maan Yojana” for the “mothers and sisters” of the state in the run-up to the recent state elections. These names suggest that women are dependent on the benevolence of their leader, the ‘bhai,’ who provides for his helpless sister in return for her ‘rakhi’ — her vote.

#WATCH | Darbhanga, Bihar: RJD leader Tejashwi Yadav says, “If our government is formed in the state, we will start the ‘Maai Behan Maan Yojana’… Under the Maai Behan Maan Yojana, we will give Rs 2500 directly to the accounts of our economically weak mothers and sisters. As… pic.twitter.com/QvU1EIpUXT

— ANI (@ANI) December 14, 2024

Our intention isn’t to examine the efficacy of these schemes — that’s an entirely different conversation. We, instead, seek to elucidate how nomenclature tends to perpetuate an unequal relationship between men and women. The hierarchical relations that define a woman’s role within the household come to exist between them and the State, snatching their political agency.

Consider the ‘Subhadra Yojana’ in Odisha. The name borrows from the state’s culture, and in doing so, definitely markets well in a populace that identifies with Lord Jagannath and his younger sister Subhadra. It also conveys a sister’s allegiance to her brother. Similarly, the ‘Ladli Laxmi Yojana’, which today is run in six states across India, moulds a woman’s image as a religious figure. Such naming risks tying a woman’s value to what she represents or brings to others (prosperity, fortune, or honour) rather than in her inherent dignity as a citizen deserving of state support.

As young women, we are perplexed to see these schemes reducing women voters to their relational identities (behen or ma) rather than acknowledging them as independent decision makers. When women are tethered to the domestic and devotional sphere, they can’t enter the political imagination as workers, leaders, or economic actors.

To us, this reeks of “benevolent sexism”. The term has found renewed popularity in social media circles these days amid discussions about gendered roles. It describes a set of discriminatory attitudes that, on the surface, appear positive but perpetuate the traditional ideas of female subordination. Women are seen as fragile and nurturing, in need of male protection.

We don’t claim that naming alone determines a scheme’s impact, nor do we dismiss the genuine benefits many of these programs provide. But language shapes consciousness, and the language we use in governance matters. When the state consistently frames women as daughters and sisters, it ends up pushing the same old narratives — that women are not capable of being independent and earning their own living, and instead need to depend on their male relations for financial support. It ultimately results in the state assuming a superior role as the paternal figure with regard to the female beneficiary, creating and fuelling the very cycle it vowed to break. In the end, the upliftment of women is treated as a means of establishing political prerogative and not real change.

The writers are students of history and political science at Delhi University