It’s that time of year again: when pundits argue over the discourse on domestic labor, gender roles, and so-called ‘toxic feminism’. Most of us are used to the backlash that comes with demanding basic rights—especially when it comes to domestic labor. Every year, posters advocating for equal housework sharing are ridiculed, memes flood social media mocking the idea of men cooking, and the same tired arguments resurface: “It’s not that hard,” “Women are naturally better at it,” and old faithful, “This is Western Agenda.”
Studies from the World Economic Forum show that women perform nearly 75% of unpaid labor globally, yet discussions around equal housework division remain contentious.
Is asking a man to share household responsibilities really a radical demand?
When Mrs.—the Hindi adaptation of The Great Indian Kitchen—sparked a similar debate in India, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu. ZEE5 Global’s Mrs. tells the story of Richa (played by Sanya Malhotra), a newlywed who quickly realizes that marriage in a patriarchal household means relentless domestic servitude. Subtle moments, such as Richa’s husband’s shifting attitudes toward her cooking or the dismissal of her career ambitions, showcase how deeply ingrained misogyny functions in even the most progressive-seeming households.
The Backlash: Accusations of Toxic Feminism
Not everyone has embraced the film’s message. The Save Indian Family Foundation (SIFF), a men’s rights group, has been particularly vocal, arguing that the film exaggerates domestic labor struggles and unfairly vilifies men. In a series of posts, they ridiculed the idea that cooking or cleaning could be oppressive, stating that such tasks are “like meditation” and not physically or mentally taxing.
Sound familiar?
In Pakistan, similar sentiments are echoed every time the Aurat March banners go viral. Demands for something as simple as “Apna khana khud garam kar lo” (heat your own food) are met with outrage, as if women are asking for a complete societal upheaval rather than basic rights. The fact that this debate is playing out on both sides of the border only proves how universal this resistance to equality is.
At the heart of the controversy is a fundamental misunderstanding of unpaid domestic work.
Mrs. also sheds light on the complicity of other women in perpetuating patriarchal norms. Richa’s mother-in-law and even her own mother urge her to ‘adjust’ rather than fight for her autonomy. This generational cycle of normalized oppression makes it harder for women to break free from these expectations. The backlash against Mrs. isn’t just about a movie—it’s about a system terrified of losing control. The tradwife fantasy, where women find “fulfillment” in servitude, is a cultural relic that refuses to die. In South Asian households, communal living is often romanticized as an unbreakable support system. Let’s be real—who benefits from this setup? The men who get their meals hot and their clothes ironed without lifting a finger. Women like Richa who uphold this system? They’re celebrated for their “sacrifice” while being robbed of their time, autonomy, and ambition.
If Mrs. makes people uncomfortable, perhaps that is exactly the point.
At its core, Mrs. is not about demonizing men but about questioning why household responsibilities are seen as inherently ‘women’s work.’ Until we can have these discussions without outrage or defensiveness, films like Mrs.—and movements like the Aurat March—will continue to be necessary.
Harman Baweja the film’s producer says, “It’s important to not look at the film in isolation. Every family is different, but many women relate to parts of this story.”
Another recent film that explores similar themes is Thappad (2020), which critiques the normalization of gendered power dynamics in South Asian marriages. Like Mrs., Thappad ignited fierce debates, with some audiences dismissing its premise as an overreaction while others praised it for addressing long-ignored issues.
So, is Mrs. an exaggerated feminist sob story, or is it simply showing us the parts of society we’d rather ignore? The men clutching their pearls at the sight of a woman asking for shared housework already know the answer.
And that’s exactly why they’re so afraid.
