In a sun-kissed kitchen in Kolkata's New Town, my friend finds solace in cooking. For her, the kitchen is a theatre where she expresses herself, paints a culinary canvas, and finds happiness. She cooks to uplift herself, and in doing so, she pats herself on the back. This self-love is a powerful antidote to the loneliness that often surrounds her. As she navigates the kitchen with ease, her passion for cooking is palpable. Every dish is a reflection of her creativity, love, and care.
Contrast this with another woman I met, who cooks out of duty, not passion. Her husband's constant criticism has drained the joy from her cooking, leaving her with a sense of obligation. The food she prepares is functional, lacking the love and care that my friend's dishes embody. Her kitchen is not a canvas, but a prison, where she feels trapped by societal expectations. Her story is a poignant reminder that cooking can be both empowering and oppressive, depending on the context.
These two women represent the dualities of cooking and gender. One finds freedom in the kitchen, while the other feels trapped. This dichotomy is echoed in the Hindi film "Mrs," an adaptation of Jeo Baby's Malayali film "The Great Indian Kitchen." The movie critiques the patriarchal attitudes that confine women to domestic spaces, valuing them only for their household duties. The film's portrayal of the kitchen as a symbol of oppression resonates deeply, highlighting the ways in which societal expectations can stifle women's creativity and autonomy.
In today's culture, where home chefs, photographers, writers, and bloggers thrive, we must ask: Do women who find expression through cooking genuinely love it, or is it a default choice? Does it matter how they arrived at cooking, as long as they're happy? Can modern women enjoy cooking without falling into the trap of obligation, especially when domestic cooking remains deeply gendered?
These questions have no easy answers, but they spark a necessary conversation. As we celebrate the joy of cooking, we must also acknowledge the complexities of gender, duty, and passion that surround it. We must recognize that cooking can be both a source of empowerment and a symbol of oppression, depending on the context.
For women like my friend, cooking is a choice, a passion, and a source of happiness. She cooks because she wants to, not because she has to. Her kitchen is a space where she can express herself, experiment with new recipes, and connect with others. In contrast, the woman who cooks out of duty is trapped in a cycle of obligation, where cooking is a chore, not a choice.
As we navigate the complexities of cooking and gender, we must also consider the role of societal expectations. How do we, as a society, value women's work in the kitchen? Do we recognize the skill, creativity, and labor that goes into cooking, or do we view it as merely domestic work? By valuing women's work in the kitchen, we can begin to challenge the patriarchal attitudes that confine women to domestic spaces.
The dichotomy between cooking as a passion and cooking as necessary domestic labor lies at the heart of a decades-long feminist frustration. Professional restaurant cooking, a realm of high stakes, prestige, and financial reward, remains overwhelmingly male-dominated. This disparity perpetuates a subtle yet pervasive hierarchy: men are chefs, commanding respect and authority, while women are relegated to the role of cooks, shouldering the bulk of domestic culinary responsibilities.
This distinction is more than semantic; it reflects a profound imbalance in the way society values and rewards culinary labor. While men are celebrated as culinary artists, women's cooking is often reduced to a domestic duty, stripped of its creative and cultural significance.
The dichotomy between cooking as a passion and cooking as necessary domestic labor lies at the heart of a decades-long feminist frustration. Professional restaurant cooking, a realm of high stakes, prestige, and financial reward, remains overwhelmingly male-dominated. This disparity perpetuates a subtle yet pervasive hierarchy: men are chefs, commanding respect and authority, while women are relegated to the role of cooks, shouldering the bulk of domestic culinary responsibilities.
This distinction is more than semantic; it reflects a profound imbalance in the way society values and rewards culinary labor. While men are celebrated as culinary artists, women's cooking is often reduced to a domestic duty, stripped of its creative and cultural significance.