In 2024, I quietly marked what would have been the twenty-fifth anniversary of my first marriage.
It was emotionally and verbally abusive. Nearly soul-destroying. And I stayed far longer than I should have—almost a decade of my youth—because I believed I had to make it work.
On that anniversary, I reflected on the social conditioning that pushes many Indian women into toxic marriages—and then pressures them to stay. What became painfully clear is this: most of these forces are not inevitable. They persist only because we keep reproducing them.
Below are the root messages I believe do the most damage. These are based on my lived experience; they won’t apply to every woman or every context. But none of them are true.
1. “Your worth depends on how you look.”
This is where it starts.
From early childhood, girls absorb relentless commentary about skin color, hair texture, body shape. Fairness is praised. Darkness is managed. By adolescence, even “well-meaning” relatives feel entitled to critique bodies still growing into themselves.
Often, these comments reflect older women’s unresolved shame about their own bodies. But the damage lands squarely on the girl: you are a project, not a person.
2. “Your worth depends on who you marry—and by when”
For my generation, there was always a deadline. Miss it, and you’d be “left behind.”
In my case, that deadline was twenty-five—backed by astrology, community norms, and escalating anxiety. Fear replaced discernment. Urgency replaced choice.
That’s not romance. That’s coercion.
3. “The more successful you are, the less desirable you become.”
This one is particularly insidious.
Men gain value with achievement. Women lose it.
While completing my Master’s degree at a top U.S. university—with multiple job offers—many prospective matches quietly withdrew once they realized how qualified and employable I was. A well-meaning relative even warned that women like me “scare men away.”
Eventually, one man checked all the boxes: more qualified, higher earning, extremely charming and funny (on the surface). I was told—lovingly, but firmly—you won’t get another chance like this. So I said yes.
My education prepared me for exams and careers, but not for recognizing personality disorders. No one had taught me that excessive charm can be a primary warning sign of narcissism.
That’s how the nightmare began.
4. “You must stay for the sake of the child.”
This is categorically false.
Research is clear: children who grow up witnessing abuse carry lifelong trauma—or perpetuate it.
My own breaking point came when I realized that abuse directed at me did not stop at me. That moment stripped away every illusion I had left. Leaving was no longer about courage. It was about conscience.
5. “Once you leave, your character will be questioned.”
This one is true—and revealing.
When a woman exits a bad marriage, many people feel threatened. Some become cruel. Professional achievements are suddenly suspect. Boundaries are ignored. Availability is assumed.
What looks like moral judgment is often fear: if she can leave, what does that say about the rest of us?
Why I’m Writing This
Not for sympathy. Not for retrospection.
I’m writing this for prevention.
Abuse does not require bruises. Verbal and emotional abuse are still abuse, and the absence of physical violence does not make them acceptable or harmless.
For parents to consciously shield their daughters from these corrosive messages—and instead help them build self-worth, financial independence, and emotional literacy.
And just as importantly, for those raising sons: to surround them with secure, respectful male role models; to normalize equality at home; to raise them expecting partnership, not entitlement. To role model empathy and kindness towards others.
Cycles of abuse are not inevitable. They are taught—and therefore, they can be unlearned.
We can do better.
And we must.