Modesty: “I don’t speak for all women …” Swagger: “… but I do speak for many.” Prashasti Singh’s Divine Feminine shuttles between these poles, now deprecating her own foibles as a thirtysomething unmarried woman in modern India, now running the rule over gender politics in the 21st century. A deft balance is struck, with enough self-mocking silliness to endear herself and keep us entertained, but some arresting thinking too about Singh’s home country and its progress towards female liberation.
That’s the subject under interrogation here, albeit refracted through the confusions and contradictions of a woman who grew up wishing to be a man. Few of the female role models on offer in India seemed terribly inspiring – and the one that did, a high-achieving distant relative, undercut her inspo standing with a very unsisterly warning against spinsterdom. No wonder our host swings wildly between pride in her independence well into middle age, anxiety that her descent into “crazy lady” status may soon be irreversible – and therapy sessions advising she reframe her sadness as a colourful personality trait.
