The kitchen has long been a contested space in a woman’s life. A place of both nourishment and negotiation, creation, and confinement. It is where traditions are preserved, family bonds are reinforced, and yet, it is also where a woman’s autonomy is often reduced to routine. The relationship between women and the kitchen is deeply layered, bound by societal expectations and, at times, subverted by those who dare to redefine its purpose.
It has long been considered a woman’s domain, a space where she is expected to nurture, provide, and serve. From childhood, girls are taught that cooking is an essential skill, a marker of their worth as future wives, daughters-in-law, and mothers. Yet, despite being the heart of the household, this domain offers women little to no power or recognition. Unlike other professions where expertise is rewarded with authority and respect, a woman’s proficiency in the kitchen is seen as mere duty, not a skill worthy of appreciation.
This paradox is glaring when contrasted with the world of professional cooking. While home kitchens are largely feminized spaces, the culinary industry remains overwhelmingly dominated by men. The world’s top chefs, Michelin-starred restaurateurs, and celebrated culinary figures are mostly male, their talents acknowledged as art and innovation. Meanwhile, women’s labour in home kitchens, often performed without rest, choice, or compensation, goes unnoticed, expected rather than celebrated. The very skill that is used to define a woman’s worth within the home is dismissed as ordinary when performed by her, yet revered when taken up by men.
Worse still, the kitchen is not always a space of autonomy for women. It is often a site of control—where gendered expectations are enforced and upheld. In many cultures, women are expected to cook not out of passion but obligation, their meals scrutinized and their ability to “feed a family” turned into a measure of their success. The act of cooking, which could be a source of creativity and joy, is reduced to an unending cycle of unpaid, invisible labour. The paradox is clear: The kitchen belongs to women, yet the power within it does not.
The Kitchen as a Site of Creativity and Innovation
Take the story of Saraswatibai Phalke. While her husband, Dadasaheb Phalke, was busy laying the foundation of Indian cinema, she was in the kitchen—not just cooking meals, but developing and editing films. The kitchen, in her case, became more than a domestic space; it was a site of cinematic innovation, of quiet rebellion against the expected. She was not just a supportive spouse; she was an uncredited pioneer, her work absorbed into the larger narrative of history, much like the invisible labour of most women.
Despite the constraints imposed on them, women have continuously found ways to repurpose the kitchen into a space of empowerment, creativity, and ambition. History is full of examples of women who, rather than allowing the kitchen to confine them, transformed it into a site of innovation and self-expression.
Take Saraswatibai Phalke, for instance—the wife of India’s first filmmaker, Dadasaheb Phalke. While he was busy pioneering Indian cinema, she worked in the shadows, developing film reels and editing footage—all from within her kitchen. It was not just a space for cooking but also a makeshift film lab, proving that ambition finds a way, even in the most restrictive settings.
In modern times, women have turned the kitchen into an entrepreneurial launchpad. From home chefs and food bloggers to bestselling cookbook authors, many women have built businesses from a space that was once meant to bind them. The rise of digital platforms has allowed women to reclaim ownership of their skills, showcasing that their work in the kitchen is not just an obligation but a valuable expertise.
The Burden of Domesticity in Cinema
Even in cinema, we see women subverting the meaning of the kitchen. Films like The Great Indian Kitchen expose the drudgery of domestic labour, while short films like Juice and Chutney depict the quiet revolutions that begin within these very walls. The kitchen, once a symbol of confinement, has now become a battleground for agency, a place where women reclaim control, rewrite narratives, and push back against the traditions that seek to define them.
This narrative finds echoes in modern storytelling reflecting in cinema. These stories hold up a mirror to the entrenched gender politics within households, where women are expected to serve, endure, and suppress their desires. The Great Indian Kitchen especially stands out as an unsettling portrayal of how deeply ingrained misogyny operates within the seemingly ordinary act of cooking and cleaning, where a woman’s worth is measured by how seamlessly she maintains the household while erasing herself in the process.
The recent movie Mrs. (2024) which is also the Hindi adaptation of The Great Indian Kitchen, is a quiet yet powerful film that dismantles the idea of a “perfect wife” by exploring a woman’s evolving relationship with the kitchen—a space that has long defined her existence. The protagonist, a woman who has dutifully fulfilled the role expected of her, begins to question the very framework that confines her. The kitchen, once a place of routine and obligation, becomes a mirror reflecting her growing unrest. Through subtle yet poignant moments, Mrs. challenges the notion that a woman’s worth is tied to her ability to serve, reminding us that the act of reclaiming one’s identity often begins in the spaces where it was once surrendered.
A Woman’s Worth: Tied to the Kitchen?
The phrase “a woman belongs in the kitchen” is more than just an outdated stereotype—it is a reflection of deep-seated misogyny that continues to dictate how women’s worth is measured. Even in the digital age, where women have scaled mountains—both literally and metaphorically—this phrase is wielded as a weapon to reduce their accomplishments to their ability to cook and serve. When a female mountaineer was told to “go make a sandwich,” it wasn’t just an insult; it was a reminder of the rigid expectations that society still imposes on women.
Social media has become a battleground where women, no matter their achievements, are often met with the same tired question: But do you know how to cook? This seemingly harmless inquiry carries the weight of centuries of gendered conditioning. It suggests that no matter how far a woman goes—whether she’s a scientist, an athlete, or a leader—her value is ultimately tied to domesticity. The kitchen is not just a space for nourishment; it has been turned into a tool of control, a boundary drawn to keep women in their place. The irony is, while women are expected to master the kitchen, the professional culinary world remains dominated by men, proving that even in the spaces where women are “supposed” to belong, power is still carefully gatekept.
When Cooking Is Art—But Only for Men
In English Vinglish (2012), there is a striking dialogue that encapsulates the double standards surrounding cooking: “When men cook, it’s an art. When women cook, it’s their duty.” This one line dismantles generations of ingrained gender bias, highlighting how the same act—preparing food—is glorified for men while being taken for granted when done by women.
Sridevi’s character, Shashi, embodies the countless women whose labour in the kitchen is seen as an obligation rather than a skill. She is an expert cook, running a home and making laddoos that everyone loves, yet she is never celebrated for it. Instead, her culinary expertise is dismissed as routine, something she should be doing anyway. Meanwhile, in the professional world, male chefs are hailed as artists, visionaries, and innovators, reinforcing the idea that a woman’s place is in the kitchen—but only if she is cooking out of duty, not ambition. The film subtly but powerfully questions why women’s work, especially in domestic spaces, is never considered valuable until a man steps in and does the same thing.
When Women Step Out of the Kitchen, They Must Justify Their Choices
In Lust Stories (2018), Karan Johar’s segment became the most talked-about for its bold exploration of female desire. The scene featuring Kiara Advani’s character reclaiming her own pleasure was seen as groundbreaking yet also controversial. It revealed an unsettling truth: when women are not depicted in kitchens or performing domestic duties, they are often shown engaging in what society deems as “unwomanly” behaviour.
The conversation surrounding this short film highlighted how narratives about women are still boxed into limited stereotypes. A woman’s sexuality, when openly acknowledged, becomes a spectacle, a debate, or even a scandal. Meanwhile, her presence in the kitchen remains an unquestioned norm. The stark contrast in reactions to these portrayals raises an important question: Why is a woman’s agency, whether in choosing to cook or to seek pleasure always scrutinized through the lens of societal expectations?
Domestic spaces, long seen as sites of confinement for women, have increasingly become arenas of feminist resistance. The kitchen, the living room, and even the bedroom, spaces historically associated with care work and servitude have been redefined as places of assertion, rebellion, and transformation.
One of the most striking examples of this shift is seen in films like The Great Indian Kitchen, where the monotony and oppression of domestic labour are laid bare, challenging the idea that household work is a woman’s natural duty. The protagonist’s eventual rejection of the kitchen is not just an act of personal defiance but a larger commentary on the systemic nature of gendered labour. Similarly, Juice captures the unspoken exhaustion of women who are expected to cater to everyone while being invisible themselves until one woman’s quiet act of stepping away becomes a moment of resistance.
Beyond cinema, real-life instances of women using domestic spaces for activism abound. Women-led movements have often started within the walls of their homes, from underground networks supporting education and healthcare to kitchen-table political organizing. The rise of online feminism, too, has allowed women to turn their personal experiences into public discourse whether through social media movements or storytelling platforms that highlight the unseen emotional and physical labour of running a home.
The transformation of domestic spaces into arenas of resistance underscores a crucial truth: the fight for gender equality does not only take place in public spheres. It is waged in the small, everyday acts of defiance choosing not to serve tea at a family gathering, refusing to perform unpaid labour, reclaiming one’s time and space. These moments, though seemingly personal, challenge the deeply ingrained structures of patriarchy, proving that even within the confines of the home, resistance is not only possible but inevitable.
Kitchen Politics: From Gossip to Resistance
The term “kitchen politics” is often used dismissively to describe the trivial conflicts among women, what brand of spice to use, whose recipe is superior, who cooks better. But beneath this casual phrase lies a more insidious reality. The kitchen has long been weaponized as a tool of control. Women are told they belong there, not just physically, but emotionally and psychologically. Their domain is restricted to a space that demands endless labour with little recognition. Even when women step outside the home, the echoes of the kitchen follow them whether in workplace discussions of work-life balance, or in the expectation that they will still oversee household duties alongside their professional ambitions.
Yet, there are those who reclaim the kitchen as a space of power. Food influencers, home chefs, and culinary entrepreneurs have turned it into a source of independence, economic agency, and self-expression. The act of cooking is no longer just a duty; it is an art, a business, and sometimes, even an act of defiance.
Reclaiming the Kitchen—Or Walking Away from It?
Does this shift absolve society of its deeply ingrained gender bias? Not quite. As long as a woman’s identity continues to be tethered to the kitchen in ways that men are not, the balance remains uneven. A man who cooks is often celebrated as an exception, a woman who does not is still judged as inadequate.
The heart of the issue has never been cooking itself, it is the lack of choice that defines a woman’s relationship with it. The problem is not that women cook, but that they are expected to. It is not that they manage households, but that their worth is measured by how seamlessly they do it.
A woman who loves to cook is often seen as fulfilling her duty, while one who dislikes it is deemed lacking. If she excels, she is applauded as a “perfect homemaker,” but if she refuses, she is met with disapproval. Even in professional kitchens, where cooking is elevated to an art, the highest ranks remain largely male-dominated. The narrative is clear: when men cook, it is a choice, an act of creativity; when women cook, it is an obligation, an unspoken rule.
True empowerment lies in autonomy which gives the ability to decide whether to cook or not, whether to stay in the kitchen or walk away. A woman who chooses to embrace domesticity should be just as respected as one who rejects it. The real resistance is not in abandoning the kitchen altogether but in reclaiming the right to define one’s own life, beyond societal expectations. Until women are free to make these choices without fear, guilt, or judgment, the kitchen will remain both a space of nourishment and an enduring symbol of silent oppression.
Perhaps it is time to rethink the kitchen, not as a space assigned by gender, but as a choice, an equal domain where presence is not dictated by obligation but by passion. Women should have the freedom to create within it, but also the freedom to walk away from it, without guilt or consequence. Because a woman’s place is anywhere, she chooses to be.
Namrata is the editor of Kitaab, a South Asian literary magazine based in Singapore. Since 2018, she also runs a creative agency called Keemiya Creatives where she works with authors and publishing houses in different capacities. She is a published author who enjoys writing stories and think-pieces on travel, relationships, and gender. Namrata is also an independent editor and a book reviewer. Her writings can be found on various sites and magazines like the Asian Review of Books, Contemporary South Asia Journal of King’s College-London, Mad in Asia, The Friday Times, Daily Star, The Scroll, Feminism in India, The Brown Orient Journal, Inkspire Journal, Moonlight Journal, The Same, Chronic Pain India and Cafe Dissensus among others. Find her on Twitter: www.twitter.com/privytrifles
