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“All these so-called feminists and feminism are making motherhood undesirable.” I’ve heard this too many times from people who haven’t bothered to understand what feminism truly stands for. Feminism doesn’t scare women away from motherhood—what does is the expectation of doing it all alone. Feminism has never condemned having children. Instead, it seeks to reclaim motherhood by challenging its negative stereotypes. It says: “Have a baby when you’re ready, not because society pressures you,” and “Motherhood shouldn’t derail a woman’s career or dreams—mothers deserve equal support from their partners and families.”

“Feminists don’t scare women away from motherhood. What scares them is the silence in the room when the baby cries past midnight and no one else gets up.” Too often, society frames motherhood as the end of a woman’s personal and professional aspirations. The anxiety isn’t about the baby—it’s the fear of losing one’s identity, freedom, and dreams, since women are still expected to bear the full cost of parenting. Many now believe financial stability and emotional security are essential before having children, which is why they wait until they’re truly ready.

Saying “we’re pregnant” isn’t enough—that “we” must extend through the entire journey. While mothers undergo physical changes, the workload should be shared. When feminists highlight this imbalance, they’re not rejecting motherhood; they’re asking: “Why is it still unequal?” Feminism dares to voice what women whisper at 3 am.: “I love my child, but I need help. I’m exhausted.” Yet this is misread as negativity.

Silencing feminists won’t protect motherhood—the solution lies in listening and redesigning a system where no woman must choose between motherhood and herself. “She thinks it’s only her. We had kids at her age and didn’t complain. We survived without support.” But when a young woman says, “This is hard,” the world rolls its eyes: “We did it, so can you.” They forget surviving isn’t thriving. Just because past generations endured doesn’t mean women today should carry the burden alone. Feminism insists: “You shouldn’t have to ‘figure it out’ just because others did. Your life and dreams matter.”

Then there’s the silent pressure—”Have a child; it’ll save the marriage.” As if a baby is glue, not a human. Motherhood should never be a bargaining chip. No woman should be guilted into it to avoid divorce. This is the oppression feminism fights—where a woman’s womb is treated as a solution to someone else’s fear, and her choice is erased. When motherhood becomes a tool for control or saving face, that’s not sacred—it’s oppression. True feminism champions a mother’s choice—freely, fully, and with dignity. It doesn’t turn women against motherhood; it advocates for a version that values and supports them.

“You can continue your studies after a baby—what’s the big deal?” But it’s never that simple. Who cares for the baby during class? Who shares the sleepless nights? The constant balancing act? The culprit isn’t ambition—it’s the lack of support and shared responsibility that makes education harder for mothers than for their partners. Young wives face relentless hints: “When’s your turn? We want to see our grandchild before we die.” Everyone prepares for the baby—but who prepares her for the emotional toll? Feminism says: “You can be a good partner without being ready for motherhood.”

“We’ll take care of the baby—just have it.” But who defines “take care”? Is it just diapers, or life-altering decisions? What if the mother wants to be present in her child’s early years—with the time, energy, and peace to do so? It’s not about waiting too long—it’s about being ready physically, emotionally, and financially. Historically, motherhood was a woman’s “primary purpose.” Limited opportunities enforced this ideal. But times have changed. Today, women shape their futures through education, careers, and choice. Feminism has redefined motherhood—no longer about fulfilling others’ expectations, but about empowerment and shared responsibility. We’re moving toward a world where mothers choose motherhood on their own terms, embracing every facet of who they are.

Foreign employment has been heralded as a lifeline for Nepal’s struggling economy for a long time. The glossy statistics on remittance have painted a picture of collective prosperity. Yet the allure of economic gain masks a brutal reality that is far less glamorous, especially for women. Foreign employment poses challenges to women not only as those who travel to the destination country but those who remain in the country of origin as well. For those left behind in rural Nepal, the absence of male members of the family members often means isolation, economic vulnerability and an overwhelming burden of household responsibilities. For those women who dare to venture abroad, the promise of a better life is often replaced by exploitation, abuse and a deep sense of social alienation. This vicious cycle of suffering, silenced by the glitter of remittance dollars, exposes the dark underbelly of foreign employment.

Foreign employment, while conjuring the image of economic upliftment, neglects the profound social costs that come with it. As rural men migrate for work, women who stay behind are forced to take on dual roles. This not only thrusts them into challenging positions of managing households alone but also compels them to step into roles that are otherwise historically done by men which include overseeing finances and maintaining farms. 

In cases like these women are not empowered by their new responsibilities but instead overwhelmed. The workload increases with no increase in helping hands and support mechanisms. This dual burden leads to exhaustion and mental health challenges. In the context of rural women, who are marginalized by geography these challenges are compounded by lack of resources and social networks to cope with this shift. Their workload intensifies while their autonomy remains constrained by societal expectations and limited access in decision making roles within the family.

The narrative that women in rural areas are mere passive recipients of remittances is misleading. They are not passive beneficiaries as in reality they are managing the entire households and communities. But their labor, both emotional and physical, goes unacknowledged, perpetuating their marginalization.As men leave, rural communities face depopulation, and agriculture, the major source of livelihood for many families suffers. With fewer hands available to work on the fields, the fields lie barren, further eroding food security. Moreover, this situation places women in a precarious position of economic and social vulnerability. The absence of male members of the family increases their exposure to exploitation. Women in rural Nepal, now the sole managers of remittances, are vulnerable to manipulation and economic abuse from extended families or in-laws who may take advantage of their isolated position.

Financial success abroad does not necessarily translate into marital success at home. At times, the long separations caused by foreign employment stretch the familial bonds to their breaking point. Communication between spouses becomes infrequent, often leading to misunderstandings, conflicts over money and sometimes even divorce. There have been reported cases of husband/wife forging new relationships abroad or at home, disrupting their married lives. 

For many women, the emotional strain of running a household alone, coupled with societal pressures to maintain family honor could lead to several mental health issues. Any perceived failure such as financial struggles, household management or even relationship issues may be seen as personal failure further intensifying the mental burden. Depression, anxiety and loneliness are evident issues, but these women are often left to cope without any access to mental health care or even a listening ear. While the men abroad are hailed as breadwinners, women shoulder the emotional and psychological costs of sustaining the family integrity.

While the challenges faced by women left behind are severe, those who migrate for work face an entirely new set of struggles. It takes only a small mistake for the journey of economic dreams to turn into exploitation nightmares. Women migrating to countries in the Middle East or Southeast Asia for work, often in caregiving or domestic roles, are vulnerable to extreme exploitation. These sectors, characterized by poor working conditions, long hours, and meager pay, frequently expose women to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse.

Migrant women, especially those undocumented or without proper legal protections, live in constant fear of deportation or retaliation, making it difficult to seek help or report abuse. The very systems that are meant to protect them, legal aid and worker’s rights organizations, are often inaccessible due to language barriers, cultural differences, or fear of losing their jobs. These barriers leave women trapped in exploitative situations with little recourse to justice. Adding to their plight is the severe isolation that migrant women often endure. Live-in domestic workers, in particular, are cut off from the outside world, living at the mercy of their employers. This isolation, compounded by the pressures of being away from their families, leads to significant mental health challenges, including depression and loneliness. The lack of social contact or support systems exacerbates their already precarious situation.

A particularly harsh reality for female migrant workers is the issue of unwanted pregnancies, often resulting from sexual exploitation. Many women, isolated and vulnerable, find themselves in situations where they are taken advantage of by employers or intermediaries. With limited access to reproductive healthcare, these women are at high risk of unsafe abortions and other health complications, jeopardizing their physical well-being and sometimes their lives. Destination countries frequently fail to provide adequate healthcare for migrant women, particularly those in the lower rungs of the workforce. In addition, cultural and legal restrictions around reproductive rights often prevent women from seeking the help they need, forcing them to resort to dangerous methods to terminate pregnancies or manage health issues.

The challenges faced by women, both at home and abroad, highlight the deeply gendered impact of labor migration. As women are increasingly called upon to take on new roles without adequate support, both within the household and in foreign countries, the social fabric begins to fray. Communities become depopulated, family ties strained, and the societal role of women burdened by unrealistic expectations. Critically, the focus on remittances while essential to the economy often overshadows these social costs. The long-term effects of migration on women are frequently absent from policy discussions, which tend to focus on the financial benefits rather than the deep social wounds migration creates. Migration is an inevitable economic reality for many Nepali families, but it need not come at the cost of women’s well-being. By recognizing the gender-specific challenges inherent in labor migration and addressing them through targeted policies, Nepal and its labor partners can ensure that foreign employment is a true path to prosperity, one that uplifts rather than exploits the women at its core.