Author: Mir Pami
She successfully completed her PhD on International Relations and recently joined the UN as a junior researcher working on marginalized communities. But the world still calls her ‘Mrs. Jones’. Doesn’t she have a name of her own?
The title of marriage gradually becomes a marker of subservience that identifies a woman by her husband rather than by her individual accomplishments. Her independence is often covered within the label of ‘Mrs’- a prefix that shapes her identity and existence. Are the women truly liberated? Or does this echo the historical enslavement; a civilized form of dehumanization?
The title ‘Mrs’ is originally meant for respect and social recognition of a woman’s marital status. In Hindu mythology, a woman is regarded as the Goddess Durga, who with her ten hands excels professionally, manages households, brings up children, and contributes significantly, to her community. Is the goddess respected only in ritual, while the prefix ‘Mrs. immediately reframes her existence within a husband-centred identity?
Even in modern social structures, women scientists, scholars, leaders, and artists build their lives through their own efforts and ability, often exceeding their male counterparts. Yet the moment marriage enters the narrative, this multifaceted identity is compressed. Their identity is linguistically patriarchalized, placing women in the shadow of their husbands by prioritizing marital status over personal accomplishments. The pattern becomes more visible when children inherit the surname and public identity of their father. A woman endures pregnancy, childbirth, and the long labour of raising children, but symbolic ownership of the lineage remains attached to the father’s name.
The title ‘Mrs’ is not merely a social courtesy, but it quietly privileges paternal identity over maternal individuality. In Indian society, women are often domesticated within the fetters of a child bearing culture and their husbands’ identification. It is believed that a woman has no home and identity of her own.
Although modern society has made significant progress towards gender equality and women empowerment, linguistic autonomy remains somehow obscured.
From official documents to social introductions, identity is filtered through marriage. Indian married women are identified with their vermillion, specific necklaces, and bangles. But how can we distinguish a married man? The institution of marriage routinely delegates its full weight of duty solely upon women.
In convocation ceremony, the anchor calls her ‘the daughter of Mr and Mrs ABC’. The parents name is mandatory to cross a geographical border on an Indian passport. For those parents who abandoned their girl child at the age of two when she was still on tottering legs, didn’t acquire the language to pronounce the first word ‘mumma’, why she needs their identification in every official recognition?
Isn’t her own body and existence enough to claim her authority over the world?
These questions are not about rejecting the traditional institutions of marriage or parental obligation defined by history and conventional societal law. It is about reconsidering how the identity is constructed. The conflict is not about obtaining a title, but about who holds the power to define it. The time has come to rethink whether a woman’s existence should solely reflect her own life and achievements, rather than institutionalizing her through parentage and marriage.
