Single Mothers, Patriarchy and Citizenship in India: Rethinking Lone Motherhood through the Lens of Socio-legal and Policy Framework

 

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It is about single mothers and their citizenship rights in a patriarchal society. 

It states that though motherhood is a powerful virtue; however, in a patriarchal society, it is construed narrowly to uphold the heteronormative family norms which prioritize men over women. 

This traditional masculine framework overlooks the diverse family forms and alienates female-headed households. Rather, families headed by lone mothers are labelled as broken, pathological, and degenerative, overlooking the fact that for ages, single mothers have challenged the traditional notion of the heterosexual family. 

Despite constitutional guarantees of equality and justice, the state and society alienate single mothers, deny them visibility, and absolve themselves of the responsibilities of protecting their citizenship rights.

 Nevertheless, for ages, single mothers, despite all hardships, have been defying patriarchal norms and are bringing up their children solely, with little support available from their families, society, or the state. Rather, they are challenging the dominant and hegemonic `male breadwinner and the provider’ model. 

This work examines the active and empowered notion of maternalism, or feminist and emancipatory mothering. It demonstrates how lone mothers are redefining and reshaping socio-cultural norms to pave the social transformation through their maternal activism. 

With the increase in the number of female-headed households, this work recommends the need for an alternative approach to disrupt the dominant themes of victimhood, poverty, destitution, and neglect by deploying the axis of intersectionality. 

It suggests that the state needs to evolve a comprehensive empowerment framework to specifically recognize the entitlements of single mothers as citizens and take steps to advance their citizenship rights.

Quotes by Hansa Mehta

 For a while now, I have been exploring the contributions of the Founding Mothers of India—those pioneering women who played a crucial role in shaping the nation during its formative years. Among them, Hansa Mehta stands out not only for her involvement in the Indian freedom movement but also for her key role as a member of the Constituent Assembly. She was a staunch advocate for women's rights, equality, and justice, both in India and on the international stage.

Born on 3 July 1897, Hansa Mehta was a passionate advocate for women’s rights, a reformer, educator, and a prominent member of the Indian Constituent Assembly. She also represented India at the United Nations Human Rights Commission. She was a prolific writer and wrote extensively on women's and children’s issues. Her work laid the foundation for women's rights in India and made a lasting impact on the global stage, marking her as a key figure in the fight for gender justice (Scaria and Nigam, 2016).In 1946, as president of the All-India Women's Conference (AIWC), Mehta played a pivotal role in drafting the "Indian Women’s Charter for Rights and Duties,", mentioned above, along with other women activists. This Charter called for gender equality, civil rights, and justice for women in India. It became a foundational document in the campaign for women's human and constitutional rights in India and abroad.

Mehta’s contribution to the drafting of the UDHR was pivotal, particularly in ensuring gender-sensitive language in the document, making it inclusive. As India’s delegate to the UN Commission on Human Rights from 1947 to 1948, she played a crucial role in shaping the Bill of Rights, not just as a symbolic gesture, but as a concrete commitment to human dignity.

During the early drafts, the word “man” was used, which excluded women. When Eleanor Roosevelt, who chaired the drafting committee, remained unaware of the omission, Mehta passionately advocated for a change. She suggested replacing “All men are born free and equal” in Article 1 with “All human beings are born free and equal.” Initially dismissed as unnecessary, Mehta persisted in her efforts, and the wording was ultimately changed to “human beings,” ensuring that the UDHR was inclusive of all genders. Her tireless work demonstrated her unwavering commitment to gender equality and human rights 

Johnson noted,

“Mrs Hansa Mehta, the Indian representative, an active member of the Indian National Congress, the independence movement, had served significant terms of imprisonment for her anti-colonial activities.  President of SNDT Women’s University, Mrs Mehta was evaluated by the United States State Department as an intelligent person, a clear thinker, but her effectiveness was somewhat limited by the fact that she spoke in a barely audible whisper.”

In this space, I am compiling some of Hansa Mehta’s most powerful and thought-provoking quotes. Her words offer valuable insights into her vision for an inclusive and egalitarian India, and they continue to inspire generations who seek a just society.

In her speech on 19 December 1946, she stated,

“What we have asked for is social justice. We have asked for that equality which alone can be the basis of mutual respect and understanding, and without which real cooperation is not possible between a man and a woman. Women form one-half of the population of this country, and therefore, men cannot go very far without the cooperation of women.”

“A life of duties alone without rights means an existence of a slave, while rights without duties would mean a state of anarchy i.e. more licence than freedom. It is only when rights and duties are properly balanced and integrated that we can get an ideal society where freedom in true sense of the term can flourish.”

Hansa Mehta

"The goodness or badness of the Constitution depends on how it is going to work. If it works in the interest of people, it will be a good Constitution; if it works otherwise, it is a bad Constitution. It is for the future electors to elect the right kind of persons, who will work the Constitution in the interests of the people. The responsibility, therefore, lies with the people." 

Hansa Mehta

“A life of duties without rights means the existence of a slave; while rights without duties mean a state of anarchy i.e., more license than freedom. It is only where rights and duties are properly balanced and integrated that we can get an ideal society where freedom in the true sense of the term can flourish.”

Hansa Mehta, 1951 Human Rights and Their Significance, Hansa Mehta Papers, Speech and Writings, File No. 26, Nehru Memorial Museum and Library, Delhi

Johnson Geln M. (1998) A Magna Carta of Mankind: Writing the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, In the Universal Declaration of Human Rights: A History of its Creation and Implementation 1948-1998, By M Glen Johnson and Jaunsz Symonides, UNESCO p. 24

Never Forgive, Never Forget

 Never Forgive, Never Forget

As a child, I was taught—like many others—to forgive and forget. It came wrapped in the language of morality, kindness, and virtue. Religion urged us to turn the other cheek. Schools encouraged us to be the “bigger person.” Families taught us to keep the peace, to move on, and to not hold grudges. Every institution, every cultural narrative, seemed invested in erasing the memory of pain, no matter how deep it ran.

But as I grew older—and especially as I lived through the experience of violence—those teachings began to ring hollow. The more I tried to forgive, the more invisible my pain became. The more I tried to forget, the more my body remembered. The scars did not fade with time. The hurt did not dilute into wisdom. In fact, the pressure to "heal" through forgetting felt like another form of violence—this time, psychological. A quiet silence wrapped in the language of peace.

As a survivor of violence, I began to question everything I had been taught. Forgiveness was not liberating—it was demanded. Forgetting was not healing—it was forced. Society doesn’t ask perpetrators to change or to remember what they’ve done; it demands that survivors carry the burden of moving on. We are told to forgive so that they can feel comfortable, and to forget so that they are not held accountable. In this way, "forgive and forget" is not a path to healing—it is the language of the oppressor.

In my work as a lawyer and social worker, I hear the pain of women every day. Their stories, spoken through trembling voices or buried beneath layers of shame and silence, awaken the rage I carry inside me—rage that is not just mine, but shared. When I listen to these stories, I feel a deep clarity: this anger is not a weakness. It is a memory. It is a refusal to allow what happened to us to be erased. It is a declaration that the past matters—that what was done to us should not be smoothed over in the name of social comfort or institutional convenience.

“Forgive and forget” is a luxury for those who have not suffered. It is a strategy of denial, a performance of civility that enables abuse to continue unchecked. It erases the long shadow that violence casts across a survivor’s life. It sanitizes injustice. It allows systems of power—patriarchy, caste, class, racism—to remain intact, because memory is dangerous to power. Memory is revolutionary.

Survivors speak a different language. A truer language. One that does not flinch in the face of discomfort. We say: Never forgive. Never forget.

We do not say this because we are cruel or bitter. We say it because remembering is how we survive. We say it because justice begins with memory. We say it because forgiveness, when demanded rather than earned, is another form of subjugation.

To never forget is not to wallow in the past—it is to name it. To give it shape. To claim our truths without shame. To never forgive is not to live in hate—it is to insist on accountability. It is to say: what happened was wrong, and no amount of time or social pressure can make it right.

This language disrupts the narrative of the “strong, silent survivor.” It unsettles those who would rather look away. But as survivors, we owe it to ourselves and to each other to speak it. Because forgetting does not bring peace—it only guarantees that history will repeat itself.

So we remember. We name names. We tell our stories. We pass them down. We keep the memory of our pain alive, not because we are broken, but because we are whole enough to refuse to lie.

Never forgive. Never forget.
This is the language of survival.
This is the beginning of justice.
This is how we build a world where no one is ever asked to forget what they had to survive.