In a day and age when women hold leadership positions, they still struggle with making their voices heard. Is embracing their ‘Villain Era’ the only way to reclaim their space in a patriarchal society?
Every woman has had a moment she’s been called difficult. Or dramatic. Or too much. She said no. She raised her voice. She didn’t smile when she was supposed to. In such moments, she became the villain—not because she was wrong, but because she stopped being agreeable.
The Oxford Dictionary defines a villain as “the principal evil character in a play or story”. But for much of history, the authors of stories have been men: shaping morality, deviance through patriarchal lens that centres male authority as the default. When those historically excluded from power begin to assert themselves—demanding space, autonomy, or simply visibility—the reaction is often that of resistance. Not because the demand being made is radical, but because the narrative never accounted for their perspective. Until now.
Why embracing your Villain Era reflects more than just rebellion
Today, films and television series are reframing these "villainous" arcs to spotlight the social injustice beneath the label. Think the character of Beena Tripathi in Mirzapur (2018, 2020, 2024) who kills her rapist father-in-law only to annihilate the entire family. Revenge, if you know the story. A villainous act, if you don’t. Queen (2013) let its protagonist choose her own happiness over what patriarchy dictates. My Mother's Girlfriend (2021) on Mubi offers space for a mother’s desires instead of shaming her. Globally, The Substance (2024), also on Mubi, unpacks the grotesque beauty standard women are subjected to and are supposed to meet.
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Today, pop culture is reframing "villainous" arcs to spotlight the social injustice beneath. The Substance unpacks the beauty standard women are subjected to. Image: Christine Tamalet
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A woman entering her “Villain Era” is not about rebellion—it is to reclaim her own narrative that has historically placed women in two rigid categories: victim or villain. Image: Unsplash
Behaviours once labelled “vamp-ish”—sexual agency, assertiveness, refusal—are now being reframed. Enter the “Villain Era”—a term born on TikTok and now shorthand for putting your own needs first.
“Women today have decided that they not only want to be out of the house but also fit into the traditional moulds of what success is while also taking up aspects of that personality, such as being outspoken, standing up for themselves, and accessing spaces that are traditionally not for them, like a bar,” says Anupama Kapoor, a Mumbai-based practitioner of Gender Equality and Social Inclusion.
The villainisation, says Kapoor, makes sense, “This change is threatening the gatekeepers of culture and religion, who are trying to suppress those speaking out, with the notion that women going for what they want is a part of ‘Western culture’ and hence, not for Indians.”
But entering your “Villain Era” is not about rebellion—it is to reclaim their own narrative that has historically placed women in two rigid categories: victim or villain.
“PEOPLE ARE MORE LIKELY TO PUSH THEIR WAY IF YOU’RE A WOMAN”
Karina Aggarwal
“Women are forced into the victim or villain role because of the notion of what a good woman is supposed to be like–selfless to the point of minimising herself and maintaining the harmony of the group and community in general,” says Kapoor, adding, “which makes it difficult for women to get heard or say no.” It holds true for men as well: they are categorised either as macho or effeminate.
Why women in leadership roles are still conditioned to be agreeable
New Delhi-based Karina Aggarwal, 37, juror, consultant, and CEO of Gigglewater Beverage Concepts, admits that her generation of women were taught to be “nice”. “People are more likely to push their way if you’re a woman. It’s not that they aren’t taking you seriously or you think you aren’t efficient, but just the assumption that a woman will be more open to her mind being changed,” says Aggarwal.
But niceness doesn’t shield a woman from dismissal. Megha Kohli, chef-partner at New Delhi restaurant Mezze Mambo, recounts a moment at a tasting earlier this year where a chef ignored her request and instead took direction from her male business partner, Noah Barnes. Kohli had asked Barnes to repeat her request—it was only then that the dish was corrected. Barnes couldn’t comprehend why Kohli was so triggered by it. But in 2025, she still needed a man to be taken seriously by others.
Dr Chandni Tugnait, psychotherapist and founder-director of Gateway of Healing, says it’s a pattern. “The collective society hasn’t fully caught up,” she says. A woman who is self-prioritising is still seen as abrasive, not ambitious.
A 2024 report by KPMG and AIMA reveals just how deep the gap runs: 56 per cent of Indian companies have only 10-30 per cent women in leadership. Nine per cent have none. Most women, the report notes, drop out mid-career—driven out by rigid workplaces, unequal pay, or simply the exhaustion of having to prove their place.
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"People are more likely to push their way if you’re a woman, due to the assumption that a woman will be more open to her mind being changed,” says Karina Aggarwal. Image: Unsplash
In a patriarchal society, success for women is hard-won
Success also comes at a price, says Aggarwal, who didn’t make her nine-year-long former relationship public for the longest time—he was older, and belonged to the same industry. “I knew what the narrative would be: Every good deal or project I got would be credited to him,” she says.
Even now, Aggarwal has been made to feel like she doesn’t belong. She’s been told she looks too young to be at whiskey tastings. Men have questioned her expertise, claiming they’ve drunk whiskey longer than she’s been alive.
Meanwhile, for Kohli, early days in the kitchen meant being told to “go to the bakery” or “you won’t manage”. She came from a convent school where ambition was encouraged—it still took 16-hour shifts, multiple breakdowns, and brute persistence to be heard. Today, Kohli admits to being harder on the women in the kitchen while she’s teaching them. “I tell them to learn to work with the tandoor to earn people’s respect,” she says.
“THE [VILLAIN] LABEL ITSELF SHOWS HOW RARE SELF-PRIORITISATION STILL IS”
Chandni Tugnait
But, for Aggarwal, working in the beverage industry also meant she developed a thicker skin. “First, you get blamed for not doing anything right, and then also get blamed for being the victim. And if you stand up for yourself (or another woman), then you get tagged ‘difficult.’”
How the workplace gender gap has conditioned women to be people-pleasers
Many women are conditioned into people-pleasing from a young age so deeply, they begin to erase themselves in the process. Mumbai-based Leesha Agarwal, founder-owner of Adah by Leesha, admits she struggles with being stern. “I approach from a place of understanding, even in arguments, which probably comes from the conditioning that kind understanding is the only way for a woman,” she says.
Agarwal describes her upbringing as “typical”—where everything became her responsibility, including how others perceived and addressed her. “I never questioned it or thought it as problematic,” she recalls, until her time in college introduced her to independent women who challenged the norms. “That made me question everything, unlearn and relearn things slowly. It’s crucial to embrace your ‘villain era’ because it’s the only way to go forward. It’s my responsibility too so that I make the most out of my life because I have the privilege. And financial independence, [which is] the beginning of claiming your own space.”
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The report adds that most women drop out mid-career due to rigid workplaces, unequal pay, or exhaustion of having to prove their place
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Many women are conditioned into people-pleasing from a young age so deeply, they begin to erase themselves in the process. Image: Unsplash
But this shift isn’t only about privilege—financial or otherwise. “What’s missing is agency,” says Kapoor. “That’s when a person becomes a victim. It’s easy to ask people to ‘be brave about it,’ but gaining agency is a deep-rooted process. It starts in childhood when you have agency to make decisions about yourself, and then your own body.” .
Where is the Villain Era for men?
“In a world where an absentee dad is normalised, men don’t really have a Villain Era to step into,” says Kevin Zingkhai, 27, an actor and stand-up comedian from Mumbai. .“Instead, men, at least the Gen Zs—who are more open to therapy or are more inclined to talk about their feelings online and offline—are entering their ‘softer era.’”
With increasing awareness around gender fluidity, Zingkhai notes, the gender of the speaker is not as important as the message they are conveying. “We don’t see a woman choosing her own needs and desires as villainous. But, even in 2025, it isn’t easy for a woman to stay unmarried beyond the age of 32. A man won’t face the same societal pressure.”
Kohli puts it bluntly: “Only a woman will call herself a villain–men wouldn’t. A woman’s Villain Era is the daily life of a man. There’s nothing villainous about giving it back to people and talking in an assertive way. [But] when a woman realises that her soft way of speaking is not working, that’s when she’ll have to act like a ‘villain.’”
“A WOMAN’S VILLAIN ERA IS THE DAILY LIFE OF A MAN”
Megha Kohli
Aggarwal has noticed the pushback that surfaces when women come together as a collective. People always question the space for men, as if women are asking for an advantage. “But what they fail to understand is that women also want a system that works on merit. The problem is that men and women are on different starting lines, with women four feet behind.” Conversations such as this, she says, are what begin to close that distance.
Self-prioritisation and owning her space is a work in progress
It can take years for women to unlearn the urge to shrink themselves. Over a decade into her career, Aggarwal still finds herself second-guessing decisions. She’s learning to sit with discomfort. Because this isn’t rebellion—it’s reclamation. A quiet refusal to disappear.
“The [villian’] label itself shows how rare self-prioritisation still is,” says Dr Tugnait. “The minute a woman detaches from being agreeable, she is no longer familiar; she’s unpredictable. And unpredictable women are often not villainous, they’re just finally free.”
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