“I’m fighting for my daughter’s equitable future, not for myself.”

It is almost unbelievable that such antiquated customs continue to exist in Kerala today. However, in my own life, this painful truth became apparent the evening of my wedding, which took place at Holy Magi Church in Muvattupuzha on April 12, 2012. That night, at my husband’s house, I was faced with a disconcerting request from my new family: to have only “good boy children.”

My father-in-law sent me a handwritten letter that explained pre-conception sex selection procedures for the birth of a male kid in order to emphasize their argument.

They said that one of their relatives in the US had successfully utilized it.
I was astounded by the contents of this message, which was a translation into Malayalam of an old magazine article. It promised a 95% probability of producing not just any boy, but a “good boy”—someone who is fair, attractive, and intelligent—and gave clear instructions on the time and mode of intercourse. To guarantee that my kid will be born with light complexion, I was given many “medicinal” powders. The essay also recommended considering famous men before conceiving.
This discovery came as a huge shock. How could I possibly believe such backward views in a family that I had just joined? I had a question. My mother-in-law was asked why they didn’t want a female kid. Disappointingly, her reaction was, “Girls were always a financial burden.” I found their rationalization—”Girls take money out, boys bring money in”—to be quite disrespectful and out of date. I was unable to identify with these feelings since I was my parents’ only child. I stayed mute in the hopes that at least something would change, rather than addressing them.
My spouse and I moved to the UK shortly after, and I didn’t have children there until 2014. The subject of producing a male heir dominated all family calls and chats with my spouse during this time. My husband angrily accused me of lying to him about my menstruation dates once it was established that I was pregnant, calling my conception an unintentional error. He got me a ticket home after three months, and I spent the rest of my pregnancy living with my parents in Kollam.

Upon the birth of my daughter in December 2014, my husband’s lack of interest became brutally apparent. He seldom came to see us, not really caring about our daughter’s upbringing. My daughter and I traveled to the UK in May 2015, although we were only there for a month. He hasn’t shown any signs of emotional contact or interaction with our kid since our return.

My spouse refused to pay maintenance, so the divorce process went on even after we were separated for nine years. Maintenance was awarded by a trial court in 2022, but the process was extended when my spouse petitioned the high court for modification. In accordance with the high court’s order, he now makes maintenance payments while concurrently requesting custody so that our daughter may attend a free English school.

I learned the subtleties of the Pre-Conception and Pre-Natal Diagnostic Techniques Act as I dug more into the legal complexities. It became evident that I was not only a victim of abuse and discrimination based on my gender, but also a victim of an antiquated judicial system that did little to correct these injustices.
In our culture, there is a pervasive perception that a boy is more valuable than a female, which feeds prejudice and unfairness. My struggle—which is recorded under Article 226—goes well beyond trying to get justice for me. It’s about giving my kid a better, more equal future, free from the chains of outmoded ideologies and structural injustices.