Opinion I From my grandmother’s feminism to mine
Live MintIvideo-called with my grandmother in Delhi the other day and she said my face was glowing. “Please tell Mai I don’t want long religious rambling and nothing that goes on and on and places the entire burden of parenthood on the mother in disguised terms.” Fortunately my mother didn’t pass on any of the messages because a) they were rude and b) they were unnecessary. On a bright, cold spring day in Manhattan, my grandmother, in her crisply ironed sari, sat me and my husband down and blessed us both with all the same, religiously-vague, terms. She keeps stacks of my novels on her shelves to force on guests and makes sure everyone who goes to the local library in her housing complex checks out my novels along with the old issues of Reader’s Digest and Women’s Era. “It’s good,” my grandmother said.
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Opinion I From my grandmother’s feminism to mine
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