Dalit Women as Knowledge Producers: Reclaiming Voice,Resistance and Intellectual Agency

Introduction

The question of dalit women in the postcolonial Indian framework has only recently begun to emerge with clarity, though still in fragmented form. Historically marginalised in both mainstream feminist and dalit political discourses, dalit women’s voices have often been reduced to narratives of violence and victimhood. However, this article argues for a broader and more nuanced understanding, one that recognises dalit women as agents of resistance and contributors to feminist thought, not merely as subjects of oppression.

This article argues for a more meaningful and sustained integration of dalit feminist discourse into the broader framework of the Indian women’s movement, particularly in light of the rapid social and economic changes in the current digital age. With the rise of the internet and the widespread use of social media platforms, expression and activism have become more accessible than ever before. This shift has opened up new spaces for marginalised voices, including those of dalit women, to assert their lived experiences and challenge dominant narratives within both feminist and nationalist discourses.

The article seeks to trace the historical trajectory of dalit feminism, its struggles for visibility, its critiques of caste-blind feminism and its complex relationship with mainstream women’s movements in India. It highlights how, despite long-standing resistance and erasure, dalit feminists have continued to shape powerful counter-narratives that question the exclusions within both caste and gender politics. By revisiting these histories and analysing their contemporary relevance, this article emphasises the urgent need for intersectional frameworks that recognise caste as central to understanding gender in India. It therefore calls for solidarity that is not symbolic but rooted in structural inclusion and transformative justice.

This article is structured in three parts. The first section engages with key debates surrounding the discourse of dalit feminism, tracing its intellectual trajectory and contested frameworks. The subsequent sections focus on the analysis of oral narratives of dalit women, exploring how these narratives have transformed over time. With the rise of ethnographic and interdisciplinary approaches, these voices have gained renewed significance. Central to this study is the question of how dalit feminist discourse has evolved from a marginal position into a powerful intellectual movement, one in which dalit women assert themselves not merely as subjects of academic inquiry but as active producers of knowledge and theory in their own right.

Evolution of Dalit Feminist Thought

While early feminist thinkers like Uma Chakravarti laid the groundwork for analysing the intersection of caste and gender, most notably through her concept of ‘Brahmanical Patriarchy’, contemporary dalit feminists are reclaiming space through testimonial literature, activism and theory. Chakravarti’s framework, building on Dr B. R. Ambedkar’s foundational insights in Annihilation of Caste, emphasised how the control of women’s sexuality and reproduction was key to maintaining caste hierarchies, especially within upper-caste Brahminical structures.

Maharashtra, being the centre of this movement, experienced the rise of dalit women’s question as early as the 1990s, a time when new liberal economic policy and forces were just beginning to take shape in the country. Dalit women, particularly those at the grassroots level, demonstrated a spontaneous and powerful sense of solidarity across caste and regional lines in response to the violence unleashed by Hindutva forces. They actively participated in ongoing struggles, such as those concerning access to pasture land. In this context, the anti-Hindutva campaign organised by Women’s Voice of Bangalore, an important part of the National Federation of Dalit Women (NFDW), was especially noteworthy. Dalit women’s perspectives, while critical of the way dominant discourses tend to homogenise their experiences, did not reduce their own realities to rigid identities. Instead, their approach resisted the ghettoisation of dalit thought and allowed for a more nuanced and inclusive political expression (Guru, 1995).

Guru (1995), in his article, insisted that dalit women have a unique and autonomous voice that must be recognised and heard on its own terms. He argued that this voice cannot be fully represented or understood by dalit men or upper-caste women. Their perspectives are deeply shaped by both internal and external factors, especially caste and gender hierarchies. Guru (1995, p. 2550) denotes, ‘dalit women justify the case for talking differently on the basis of external factors (non-dalit forces homogenising the issue of dalit women) and internal factors (the patriarchal domination within the dalit)’.

Rege (1998) critiqued Guru’s idea in Dalit Women Talk Differently, arguing that the assertion of dalit women’s voices should not be reduced to merely ‘naming their difference’. She warned that such an approach risks falling into a narrow framework of identity politics. Instead, Rege (1998) positioned this assertion as a crucial shift, one that recentres the discourse on the intersections of caste and gender and contributes towards articulating a distinct dalit feminist standpoint. ¹

Rege’s (2006) work is one of the first to link the question of caste with women’s rights to caste. Her foundational text in dalit feminist scholarship critically engages with the intersections of caste, gender and power. The book challenges the dominant upper-caste feminist and nationalist narratives by pointing out the lived experiences and voices of dalit women through their testimonies and autobiographical writings. Rege’s core argument is that mainstream feminist discourse in India has often erased or marginalised the specific oppression faced by dalit women, thereby reproducing caste hierarchies even in progressive spaces. ² Rege also critiqued the way caste is invisibilised in feminist and nationalist historiography. For example, she pointed out how the contributions of dalit women to anti-caste struggles, labour movements and education reforms are often ignored in mainstream historical narratives. Through this lens, she urged feminist scholars to reframe their methodologies and include subaltern voices in shaping feminist theory and practice.

Rege put forward the idea of a ‘dalit feminist standpoint’, which went beyond just sharing personal experiences. It is a political- and knowledge-based framework that challenges both Brahmanical patriarchy and the dominance of upper-caste feminism. She stresses that anyone writing about dalit women must first reflect on their own caste privilege and genuinely engage with the voices that have long been ignored or suppressed. Rege also built a strong theoretical foundation to show how dalit women’s autobiographies are not just personal stories, but powerful methodological tools. These narratives directly question how upper-caste scholars have tried to absorb or represent dalit experiences, often without accountability. In doing so, they expose the discomfort, bias and guilt that come with such appropriation (Rege, 2006).

A key contribution of the book is its insistence on testimony as a form of theory. Rege challenged the divide between theory and experience, arguing that dalit women’s testimonies are not just emotional accounts but theoretical tools that critique caste and patriarchy simultaneously. She warned against the appropriation of these voices by academic elites without acknowledging their political significance or the structures of power involved in knowledge production.

Another central point in the book is her emphasis on ‘collective memory’ and the politics of remembering. Dalit women’s narratives/autobiographies became sites where personal memory intersects with collective suffering and resistance, creating a new archive of knowledge. These narratives are not just about gender oppression but reflect the experience of being a dalit woman, where caste and gender are inseparable. Lastly, Rege’s work is a call to decolonise knowledge production and democratise feminist discourse. She demanded accountability from upper-caste feminists and academia to confront their complicity in maintaining caste hierarchies and to engage with dalit feminist thought not just as a token but as something to be assimilated into Indian feminist thought.

Paik’s (2014) seminal work on the subject concerned attributes that a major issue in the way history has been written in India is that both upper-caste reformers and scholars have focused mainly on the binary between colonialism and nationalism. This narrow lens has left little room to recognise the voices and struggles of dalit men and women, especially dalit women, who have challenged caste, gender and the idea of the nation itself. In both mainstream and feminist histories, as well as in dalit writings by male activists, the contributions of ordinary dalit women have largely been ignored. These women, despite living on the margins, have put forward powerful political and social critiques, but their work has rarely been acknowledged. Unlike upper-caste, middle-class women who are often presented as active agents in the stories of reform and nationalism, dalit women are almost always left out. Their role as thinkers, writers and leaders in shaping anti-caste thought and resistance remains overlooked in dominant historical narratives. This calls for a rethinking of how we write and understand history, one that centres dalit women not just as victims, but as political subjects in their own right (Paik, 2014).

Paik (2018) argued that dalit radicals began to view dalit women as ‘transgressive subjects’, individuals who challenged the norms and systems that tried to silence or erase them, especially those rooted in upper-caste dominance. They clearly saw how caste and patriarchy worked together to create a system of double oppression for dalit women. Dalits took part in what Foucault calls a ‘technology of the self’ and extended this process to the larger community. In doing so, they reshaped how dalit women saw themselves and their roles in society. This effort led to a strong push against both external and internal forms of patriarchy. Dalit activists placed special focus on women’s education and worked to address gender inequality within their own communities, not just outside them (Paik, 2018).

Paik’s work on dalit women’s education explains the complicated nature of the dalit women’s upliftment in the context of the dalit movement. According to her, being involved in politics during the colonial period was not as simple as it appeared. Their struggles were shaped by many overlapping issues, caste discrimination, gender inequality, access to education and, most importantly, moral expectations. These challenges made it difficult for them to fully claim their rights or build a strong sense of self, both individually and as a community, especially in a system that already denied them basic freedoms. Dalit radicals created a powerful way of speaking and thinking that influenced dalit women and encouraged them to join the movement through efforts for education and empowerment. However, even though dalit leaders worked hard to improve education for their communities, they also tied education to strict ideas about morality, especially for women (Paik, 2014, p. 70). This connection made things more complicated. While education was meant to uplift dalit women, the pressure to follow certain moral standards also placed new limits on them (Paik, 2014, p. 72).

Although Crenshaw’s (1991) concept of intersectionality is a valuable tool for understanding how different forms of oppression intersect, in the Indian context, however, it is crucial to centre caste as a deeply rooted and often invisible system of inequality, distinct from race in its structure and impact. To truly engage with the lived experiences of dalit women, the framework of intersectionality must be adapted to reflect the unique historical, social and cultural realities of caste-based oppression within dalit feminist thought.

As argued in this article, historically, dalit women have been excluded from the process of knowledge production. They have long been excluded from the processes through which historical knowledge has been produced and legitimised. Mainstream historiography has not only overlooked women as historical subjects but has also failed to account for the differences among women and the multiple intersections of caste, class, religion, region and community that shape their experiences. As a result, these layered subjectivities have remained marginal to what is accepted as authoritative history (Sarvesh et al., 2021).

For instance, in a recent article, ‘Aesthetics and Politics of Dalit Women’s Writings Within Indian Pedagogic Practices’, Kalyani (2023) explored how there is an emergence of new knowledge producers in the field of dalit women’s writings, particularly within the Hindi-speaking belt of India, and their integration into academic curricula. She examined how these writings, along with theoretical works on dalit women’s literature and translations, are becoming part of newer pedagogical approaches. This highlights that these engagements reveal significant discursive practices surrounding dalit women’s literature.

Recently, the rise of interdisciplinary approaches has created space for a more grounded and critical re-examination of the theme discussed here. In this context, Kumar and Bakshi (2022), in their article ‘The Dominant Post-constitutional Indian Feminist Discourse: A Critique of Its Intersectional Reading of Caste and Gender’, critiqued the dominant post-constitutional Indian feminist discourse for its limited and often superficial engagement with caste through the lens of intersectionality. Coming from different academic and social backgrounds, one as a Savarna feminist ethnographer and the other as a dalit feminist legal scholar, the authors reflect on what it truly means to adopt a comprehensive anti-caste approach, rather than merely applying the concept of ‘intersectionality’.

They explored how their distinct positions shape their understanding of caste and gender and argued for moving beyond tokenistic or surface-level applications of intersectionality within feminist discourse in India. Drawing from their own contrasting positionalities, they emphasised the need for a deeper, structurally rooted anti-caste feminist framework. Instead of using intersectionality as a checklist or academic trend, they called for an approach that genuinely centred dalit experiences and challenged Savarna hegemony within Indian feminism.

Kumar and Bakshi (2022) argued that dalit and upper-caste women should be understood as relational categories and not connected, but shaped by very different histories and power dynamics. They emphasised that an anti-caste feminist approach can only emerge when feminism begins to learn from the lived experiences of dalit women, rather than trying to fit them into its pre-existing theories and politics. By paying attention to the diversity and complexity of dalit women’s experiences, feminism is pushed to reflect on its own past, especially its role in reinforcing forms of exclusion and inequality. At the same time, this process opens up the possibility for feminism to unlearn some of its assumptions and reimagine and perhaps reframe feminism.

The dominant application of intersectionality as a lens of ‘difference’ and instead argues for a relational, anti-caste feminist methodology. It emphasises the need for upper-caste feminists to reflect on their own positionality and privilege and avoid tokenistic claims of solidarity (Kumar & Bakshi, 2022). Moreover, it challenges the reduction of dalit identity to static narratives of suffering, urging recognition of the agency, resistance and intellectual contributions of dalit women. For the sake of supporting the argument proposed in this article, this section examines how traditional hierarchies of knowledge production need to be challenged.

Angela P. Harris critiqued gender essentialism and Catharine MacKinnon’s dominance theory, in her article, ‘Race and Essentialism in Feminist Legal Theory’. Harris (1990) contended that essentialist frameworks within feminist legal theory systematically silence women of colour by failing to account for the intersectional nature of their oppression. She fundamentally challenged the additive model, where ‘race’ is treated as a distinct layer superimposed upon ‘gender’, arguing that it renders black women’s experiences as merely ‘white women’s experience plus racism’. Harris posited that these experiences are, in fact, qualitatively distinct and cannot be disaggregated in such a manner.

Harris demonstrated how essentialism compels women of colour to fragment their identities, artificially separating their ‘blackness’ from their ‘womanhood’ to navigate legal categories designed to recognise only a single axis of oppression at a time. In other words, central to her argument is the critique of the fragmented self. This critique aligns with the work of scholars like Matsuda (1991), who similarly argued that conventional legal frameworks often misapprehend the compounded and specific realities of women of colour, thereby failing to deliver substantive justice.

Collins and Bilge (2016) proposed that intersectionality can be used in different ways and in different contexts. According to them, treating intersectionality as a heuristic device enables its methodological adaptation across diverse analytical contexts, thereby allowing for contextually situated usage of the framework. This is demonstrated by her quoting an example of Savitribai Phule, who worked as a political activist with a combination of caste, gender, religion and class. She did not pick one in her political activism; in fact, all of them were encompassed in her political activism (Collins & Bilge, 2016, p. 2).

Bilge (2013) argued that intersectionality has drifted from its roots in critical race theory and anti-racist activism, and we need to bring it back. Over time, the concept has increasingly served white feminist interests rather than challenging them. Her work reveals how power imbalances within feminist spaces have distanced intersectionality from its original purpose as a tool for activist change (Bilge, 2013). In similarity to arguments made by Bilge, the present article also attempts to argue that Savarna feminist discourse has not been able to use the intersectionality debate to its appropriate usage for inclusion of dalit feminist discourse.

Building on Bilge’s critique, this article argues that Savarna feminism has adopted intersectionality’s language while excluding the dalit standpoint, a theoretical and political failure. Using Collins’ epistemological framework, it will demonstrate through dalit women’s lived experiences that their positioning at the intersection of caste and gender oppression generates distinctive knowledge about power that Savarna feminist discourse, despite invoking intersectionality, remains structurally unable to integrate.

A significant recent intervention in the discourse on dalit women raises a crucial and long-standing concern within dalit studies: who is writing about whom? This question becomes especially important when examining the representation of dalit women’s experiences within academic and feminist spaces. Kumar (2020) offered a critical perspective on this issue, noting that the concern is not simply about upper-caste feminist scholars engaging with dalit women’s lives, but about the broader structural issue that very few dalit women have had the opportunity or access to produce intellectual work on their own experiences. She stressed that the standpoint of a dalit woman is shaped by a complex intersection of caste and gender. This sets it apart from both upper-caste women and dalit men. This intervention urges us to reflect on the politics of voice, authorship and access in the production of knowledge around caste and gender (Kumar, 2020).

To ground this intervention, earlier dalit feminists have analysed dalit women’s narratives published. We have seen recently how landmark dalit autobiographies: A Life Less Ordinary by Halder (2006), a memoir of a domestic worker from West Bengal that powerfully captures the intersections of caste, gender and labour and The Prisons We Broke by Baby Kamble (2008)—an early autobiography of a dalit woman from Maharashtra that brings to light caste oppression, gendered violence and the transformative influence of the Ambedkarite movement. Through these texts, the dalit feminist discourse explores how dalit women articulate their identities, resist systemic oppression and assert feminist voices from within. These voices not only serve as testimonios of lived experience but also as political texts that redefine the boundaries of both dalit and feminist discourse in postcolonial India.

This article builds upon theoretical frameworks of Collins and Bilge (2016) on how Savarna feminism has embraced intersectionality in name but not in practice, omitting the dalit viewpoint. Using Collins’s framework, this article analyses dalit women’s lived experiences to reveal how their dual oppression creates distinctive knowledge about power. This knowledge remains invisible to Savarna feminist discourse, which is structurally unequipped to engage with it, despite its intersectional claims.

Oral History as a Powerful Tool for Dalit Feminist Discourse

In this section, I will study an oral history narrative of a second-generation Valmiki woman from Karachi whose family came to Delhi during Partition. She was among the dalit families who migrated to different parts of the country during the colonial period. Many dalit groups migrated to different parts of the country for employment arising out of the ‘reform’ policies of the British for the criminal tribes. The Valmiki, or the sweeper caste, is traditionally involved in human scavenging or sweeping. They are scattered over the vast area of north-western India and are called chuhras in Punjab, domra in Rajasthan and mehtar in Bihar. In some parts of UP, they claim to be called ‘Valmiki’. Bimla was from a Valmiki refugee partition migrant family.

Oral history narrative debates among feminists, who embraced oral history, realised that traditional history often left women out. Oral history gave them a way to bring women’s lives and experiences into focus and to question what was considered important in history, things like politics and the economy, which usually ignored women’s roles. By using oral history, they could put women’s voices at the centre, talk about gender more deeply and even let the women being interviewed guide the direction of the research by sharing what mattered to them. In doing so, it challenged the usual ways history has been written (Sangster, 2006).

While interviewing working-class women for her research, Sangster let them share their own thoughts and experiences. But she also makes it clear that if their views and her interpretation did not fully match, it was her understanding that would take priority in the final writing. As a feminist researcher, she believed in being honest and respectful, like not breaking trust, not sharing things said in private and never mocking others’ lives. But at the end of the day, she reminds us that as historians, it is our position and privilege that let us interpret these stories, and it is also our duty to bring in our own insights while staying true to theirs (Sangster, 2006, p. 93).

In the newly independent postcolonial state, the story of Bimla’s narrative gives a sense of lived experience and voice to a dalit woman belonging to the profession of a sanitation worker. Bimla was a second-generation partition migrant to Delhi. Who tells her story of how her parents migrated to Delhi from Lahore and settled here after various hardships? Both she and her husband were sanitation workers in the New Delhi Municipal Council (NDMC), a government job. The power of government jobs and reservation provided certain communities with upward mobility in the postcolonial Indian state. The result of this can be seen in the expression of some women ‘coming out as dalit’ in their writings. Drawing from my position as a dalit woman ethnographer, I view this narrative as a co-constructed account, emphasising shared authorship and collective agency.

Voice of Contemporary Dalit Women

As discussed earlier, this article engages with the complex relationship between caste and the nation, with a particular focus on the narratives of dalit women. In recent years, there has been a noticeable transformation in the ways dalit women articulate their experiences. They are increasingly asserting their identities, reclaiming agency and challenging the long-standing silences imposed on their voices. From the early post-independence period represented by narratives such as Bimla’s to the present, dalit women’s life writings have gained greater visibility and critical attention. Contemporary writings, like Dutt (2020) and Singh (2022), have taken significant steps by publicly acknowledging their dalit identity and using autobiographical writing as a form of resistance. Their acts of ‘coming out’ are not merely personal confessions but deeply political gestures that confront caste hierarchies and demand recognition and dignity in a society that has systematically marginalised them. In this section, I examine these emerging dalit women’s voice narratives that are grounded in personal history but serve as powerful critiques of social exclusion, offering insight into the lived realities of being a dalit woman in contemporary India.

For the purpose of tracing the trajectory of how dalit women’s narratives became a treasured subject for feminist studies, I shall refer to two dalit women’s autobiographies that have been written about and are already part of the mainstream dalit literature, A Life Less Ordinary by Halder (2006) from West Bengal, and The Prisons We Broke by Baby Kamble from Maharashtra. Suresh (2020) critically analysed autobiographies and testimonies of dalit women, such as Baby Kamble, Urmila Pawar and Bama, showing how these narratives not only expose the daily violence and humiliation that dalit women endure but also resist the dominant narratives of victimhood.

These testimonies are acts of resistance, offering alternative histories from below. Rege (2006) insisted on reading these writings not merely as personal stories but as political interventions that rewrite national and feminist histories from a dalit perspective. Her book has already established a powerful critique of caste-blind feminism and a pioneering work in dalit feminist theory. It asserts that without integrating the experiences and epistemologies of dalit women, the feminist movement in India will remain incomplete and exclusionary.

The Prisons We Broke is a powerful and groundbreaking autobiography by Baby Kamble, a dalit woman from Maharashtra, that offers a deeply personal and political account of life within the Mahar community, historically labelled as ‘untouchable’. Written from within the community, the narrative is both a critique and a record. Kamble exposed the deeply patriarchal and caste-ridden structures of rural Mahar life, detailing the misery, humiliation, poverty and systemic discrimination faced by dalits. Unlike many male dalit autobiographies, her story lays equal emphasis on the internal dynamics of gender, addressing domestic violence, child marriage, lack of education and women’s subjugation.

What distinguishes Kamble’s work is her unflinching portrayal of the dalit women’s double burden, oppressed by both caste and patriarchy. She criticised not only Brahmanical dominance but also the misogyny within her own community. A key strength of the book lies in its portrayal of the Ambedkarite movement, which Kamble saw as a transformative force. Dr B. R. Ambedkar emerged as a saviour figure, whose teachings on self-respect, education and Buddhism reshaped dalit identity and consciousness.

In her autobiography, Baby Kamble offered a powerful account of the lives of the Mahars over the past 50 years in Western Maharashtra. She openly expressed her anger toward the Chaturvarna system of Hinduism and also criticised the patriarchal structures within the Mahar community that kept women in a subordinate position. Her narrative is both a personal reflection and a sharp critique of the patriarchy and superstitions deeply rooted in her community. At the same time, it documented the harsh realities of poverty and hunger experienced by Mahars. What sets Kamble’s autobiography apart is her honest and self-aware approach. It stands in contrast to the writings of upper-caste women and even dalit male autobiographers, where dalit women are often invisible or marginal figures. Through her storytelling, Kamble gives voice to the struggles and resilience of dalit women, highlighting their everyday battles against both caste and gender oppression (Suresh, 2020, p. 115).

The title of the autobiography, ‘Prisons We Broke’ symbolises the ‘double struggle’ dalit women face in seeking both gender and caste equality, what can be called an ‘unattended double equality’. First published in Marathi in 1986 as Jina Amucha, the text addressed the intersecting oppressions faced by Mahar women even before Crenshaw introduced the concept of intersectionality in 1989. The book critiques both Brahmanical patriarchy and its reflection in dalit patriarchy, using real-life stories to expose the structures behind the continued oppression of the Mahar community. Calling out dalit patriarchy as a form of imitation highlights the pressure dalits feel to conform to dominant social norms (Verma et al., 2024).

Sharma and Kumar (2020) closely studied dalit autobiographies of three dalit women, Bama’s Sangati, Urmila Pawar’s The Weave of My Life and Baby Kamble’s The Prisons We Broke, and pointed out that dalit women face multiple and connected forms of oppression, not just because of caste, but also because of gender and class. These different layers of discrimination are deeply linked. Despite these struggles, dalit women show great strength and resilience. Their stories are full of examples of how they survive and fight back against injustice in everyday life. Dalit women are not just victims, but they also play an important role in changing and uplifting their communities. Their voices and actions are crucial in the larger movement for dalit rights (Sharma & Kumar, 2020).

According to Suresh, The Prisons We Broke is more than just a personal story; it is a powerful protest against the caste system and the suffering it has caused dalits for generations. Baby Kamble showed how dalits were treated inhumanely under Hindu caste rules. She pointed out that leaders like Jyotirao Phule, Shahu Maharaj and most importantly Dr B. R. Ambedkar helped dalits understand their oppression and gave them the tools to fight back. Dr Ambedkar’s thoughts and leadership turned dalit resistance into a strong political movement that openly challenged Hinduism and its caste structure.

The dalit movement gave dalit women, like Kamble, the voice and courage to write about their lives. In her book, Kamble talks about key issues such as caste discrimination, the low position of women in society and how Ambedkar’s ideas inspired dalit women to educate and empower themselves. Even though Kamble came from a slightly better-off family, her grandfathers were English-speaking butlers to British officers, but she still closely witnessed the suffering of her community. Her writing reflects both her personal experiences and the collective pain of dalit life, shaped by the larger dalit movement in Maharashtra. What is particularly significant to highlight is the way Kamble’s assertion is situated within the broader framework of the dalit movement in Maharashtra.

A Life Less Ordinary is an emotionally powerful story of Halder (2006), from West Bengal, who worked for many years as a domestic worker. Her life began in difficult circumstances; she was born into a poor family and faced neglect and violence from a very young age. Her childhood was filled with struggle, with little care or protection. At just 12 years old, she was married off to a man nearly twice her age (Halder, 2006). By the time she was 13, she had already become a mother. What followed were years of pain and hardship. She lived in a home where she experienced constant abuse and was forced to carry the heavy burden of both motherhood and poverty.

Despite the challenges, Baby Halder found strength within herself. One day, she made the bold decision to leave her abusive husband. She took her three children and moved to Delhi, not with dreams of a better future, but simply to survive. In the city, she started working as a domestic help in different homes, cleaning and cooking to support her children. It was during this time that her life began to slowly change. With the encouragement of one of her employers, she began to write about her past. Through writing, she gave voice to the pain, injustice and resilience that had defined her life.

Baby Halder’s story is not just about her own life, but also about the many women who suffer in silence under oppression of caste, class and gender. Her journey from a voiceless child bride to a published author is a powerful reminder of strength and dignity a dalit woman can achieve through writing. Her words also help us understand the lives of those who are often ignored and challenge us to see domestic workers not just as labourers, but as individuals with stories worth telling.

She started working as a domestic help and was employed by Prabodh Kumar, a retired professor and the grandson of Premchand. He recognised her curiosity and interest in books and encouraged her to write her own story. What came out of this encouragement was a bold and honest narrative, one that captures her experiences of violence, caste and gender-based oppression, labour and struggle. But it also speaks of her strength, intelligence and her quiet but powerful search for dignity. It is not just a story of survival, but it is about reclaiming a voice in a world that constantly tried to silence her. Many who have written about her book and made her the subject of their academic writings show how her voice challenges the hierarchies of gender, caste and class, offering a powerful insider perspective on postcolonial India’s social fabric.

As mentioned earlier, this article seeks to challenge the tendency to frame dalit women’s narratives solely through the lens of violence and victimhood. Such a narrow focus tends to reproduce existing hierarchies within dalit women’s studies, which urgently requires the inclusion of diverse voices. Given that dalit communities are not homogenous, a layered and nuanced understanding of caste and gender dynamics is essential to broadening the scope of dalit feminist discourse. It is crucial now to move beyond viewing dalit women merely as subjects of study for mainstream feminist scholarship. Instead, we must critically engage with how dalit women authors actively contribute to academic discourse, not as passive informants, but as theorists, knowledge producers and agents of intellectual and social transformation.

In their article ‘Digital Activism and Dalit Women’ Kumar and Rao (2022) explored how digital platforms (social media, blogs, YouTube) have empowered dalit women to voice their realities and be acknowledged within the social mainstream media by using digital activism to intensify their voices and organise across geographic boundaries. Modern digital platforms provide alternative spaces, digital dalit media and so on, where they can share their lived experiences and assert their rights, bypassing upper-caste-dominated mainstream channels (Kumar & Rao, 2022).

In this context, the writings of two dalit women, Yashica Dutt and Priyanca Singh, stand out as powerful testimonies of lived experience. Both of them have openly identified as dalit, and while to the outside world they might appear ‘elite’ or privileged in terms of education, language and lifestyle, their personal narratives tell a different story altogether. Through their writing, they lay bare the deep and invisible impact of caste on their lives, experiences of shame, silence, passing and the constant pressure to conceal one’s identity just to be accepted. Their accounts reveal the layered struggles of navigating a world that sees them through the lens of class and modernity, while completely missing the pain and politics of caste that shaped their journeys. What makes their narratives powerful is not just their honesty, but the way they challenge the assumption that caste does not affect those who have ‘made it’. These women bring out the emotional and social costs of social mobility for dalits, especially women, and in doing so, they broaden our understanding of what caste discrimination looks like today. Their stories become an important consideration of how the dalit feminist question has travelled with time in the present.

‘Maybe because I needed to be “home” to hear how my book made them see how caste was all around us, hidden in plain sight’. ³ This quote from Dutt’s (2020) Facebook post revealed how caste had long been a hidden secret in her life, but the act of publicly ‘coming out’ with her dalit identity compelled others to confront and speak openly about caste and its enduring impact. Dutt’s memoir ‘Coming Out as Dalit (2019)’ is a deeply personal and politically charged account of her journey of self-discovery, resistance and assertion of identity as a dalit woman from Rajasthan. The book is both a testimonial and a social critique, tracing her life from growing up in a dalit family in Ajmer, Rajasthan, to navigating ‘elite’ academic and media spaces in Delhi and New York, while hiding her caste identity for much of that journey. Dutt used the metaphor of ‘coming out’ (borrowed from LGBTQ+ discourse) to describe the act of publicly acknowledging her dalit identity, a truth she had suppressed for years to avoid caste-based discrimination, exclusion and humiliation. In elite schools, colleges and professional circles, she ‘passed’ as upper-caste by masking her background, modifying her behaviour and even changing her appearance and accent to fit in.

This conscious disassociation from her roots was a survival strategy, but it also created a deep internal conflict and shame, which perhaps made her openly express this journey. The turning point in her life came in 2016, after the death of dalit PhD scholar Rohith Vemula, who died by suicide following institutional caste discrimination at Hyderabad Central University. Vemula’s powerful last letter and the nationwide protests that followed compelled Dutt to confront her own silence. She wrote a Facebook post titled ‘Today, I’m Coming Out as Dalit’, which went viral and became the seed for her book. Later, she appeared on social media platforms explaining her journey.

By tracing her journey from St. Stephen’s College to New York, Dutt interwove her personal story with a broader critique of caste oppression in contemporary India. She argued that while caste may not always be visible in urban spaces, it deeply structures Indian society, from education and employment to marriage, media and access to power. She exposed how meritocracy is often a myth used to undermine reservation policy and how dalit students and professionals constantly face subtle and overt casteism even when they achieve success. Dutt also highlighted the invisibility of caste in public discourse and how upper-caste privilege operates through silence, denial and erasure. She critiqued both liberal and elite spaces, including journalism and academia, for their lack of dalit representation and for perpetuating caste hierarchies under the guise of neutrality or progressivism. Importantly, Dutt brought a feminist lens to her narrative, shedding light on how dalit women face the double burden of caste and gender oppression. She talked about the violence, exclusion and hyper-surveillance that dalit women face within both their communities and the wider society.

Her account also breaks the stereotype of the dalit subject as only poor, rural or uneducated, showing the diverse and complex realities of urban, educated dalits instead. The memoir ends on a note of empowerment. Dutt’s act of coming out is a reclamation of identity and dignity, which has been a major component of the dalit movements for decades now, not just for herself, but for many who have been forced into silence. She advocates for a dalit consciousness, that is, political and vocal, and calls for solidarity in the fight against caste-based injustice. Another dalit woman’s autobiography that bridges personal testimony with sociopolitical critique. It offers a powerful voice to the ongoing dalit struggle and forces Indian society to reckon with its deeply embedded casteism.

‘joota chahe sone ka bhi ho, pehna pairon mein hee jata hai’, said his parents (even if your shoes are made of gold, you still wear them only on your feet) (Singh, 2022). In her essay ‘What Does Being an “Elite Dalit” Woman Mean?’, Priyanca Singh Ambalvi contested the notion of ‘elite dalit’, calling it an oxymoron. While she acknowledged her relative privilege, being educated, financially comfortable and socially mobile, the label obscures the persistent barriers she faces as a dalit woman in caste-based societies. To enter upper-caste spaces, Ambalvi learned their speech, manners and lifestyle, but could not internalise their worldview or shed her caste-marked identity. Her experience of dating a Savarna (upper-caste) man highlighted both privilege and marginalisation. His parents’ rejection based solely on caste magnified that education or comfort does not erase caste identity. Despite global exposure, her family returned to their dalit community, indicating how upper-caste circles can be isolating for dalits. Dalit families mostly cluster in protective enclaves, not out of choice, but because public spaces rarely feel inclusive to them.

Ambalvi also reflected on body shape, health and dietary norms shaped by historical deprivation, not a result of present privilege. Even with resources available now, deep-seated biological and cultural legacies of caste remain. She emphasised the lack of public platforms for dalit narratives. Writing on open platforms becomes one of the few spaces where these experiences can be shared. The term ‘elite dalit’ is an oxymoron that smooths over structural caste violence by pretending upward mobility makes one ‘elite’. In short, for Ambalvi, economic or educational gains do not dissolve caste identities or erase discrimination.

Citing these examples highlights the importance of providing dedicated and respectful public platforms for dalit narratives; otherwise, these voices risk remaining intimate and marginalised. Ambalvi’s essay is an incisive critique of superficial narratives about upward mobility in caste society. She urges a deeper reflection on what it means for a dalit woman to be ‘elite’, not as a celebration of privilege, but a reclamation of identity amidst casteism.

Digital activism has emerged as a powerful tool for dalit women to transcend regional and structural barriers that once confined their voices. Social media platforms have enabled rapid, wide-reaching dissemination of narratives that challenge caste and gender hierarchies. Hashtags such as #DalitLivesMatter, #CasteIsNotPast and #WhyLoiter have not only created visibility but also fostered solidarity among marginalised communities. Dalit-led digital platforms like Writing with Fire and Dalit Women Fight harness spaces like Facebook, Twitter and grassroots journalism to document violence, deeply bring to light lived experiences and build counterpublics. These initiatives underscore how caste-based discrimination is deeply entangled with gender-based violence, often overlooked in mainstream discourse. Groups like the Dalit History Collective further reclaim the politics of memory and justice by highlighting stark disparities in media coverage, juxtaposing the national outcry in cases like Nirbhaya with the silence surrounding atrocities committed against dalit women. Such interventions not only demand recognition but also actively reshape the contours of digital resistance and feminist critique in contemporary India.

The authors frame their analysis through feminist media theory and social movement theory, recognising digital activism as an emancipatory tool. They argue that digital spaces are not just communication channels but essential sites of resistance and identity formation. Similar to the two narratives quoted in this article. Kumar and Rao (2022) concluded that digital media offers dalit women a powerful platform to resist multiple axes of oppression. While it does not eliminate structural inequalities, it acts as a catalyst for raising awareness, fostering leadership and coercing institutions to respond.

Conclusion

This article has traced the intellectual, political and narrative evolution of dalit feminism, emphasising the urgent need to recognise dalit women not merely as subjects of academic inquiry or symbols of suffering, but as autonomous knowledge producers and agents of change. By analysing oral histories, autobiographical writings and digital activism, this study has shown how dalit women have steadily carved out spaces of resistance and reclaimed their voices against both Brahmanical patriarchy and caste-blind feminist discourses.

These writings are framed through the lens of positionality, with authors who are themselves dalits writing about dalit women. The present article, too, is part of this larger endeavour. Through the testimonies of women like Bimla and writings by Baby Kamble, Baby Halder, Yashica Dutt and Priyanca Singh, we witness the transformation of personal experience into political critique, narrative into theory and marginality into intellectual agency. These narratives disrupt dominant historiographies and demand a reframing of feminist thought to centre caste as a fundamental analytic. Moreover, the rise of digital platforms has amplified dalit women’s voices, offering new modes of visibility and solidarity that transcend conventional academic boundaries.

Ultimately, the article calls for a decolonised and structurally inclusive feminist praxis, one that is rooted in lived realities and committed to transformative justice. The epistemic contribution of dalit women must not be tokenised or confined to the margins, but meaningfully integrated into the broader intellectual and political frameworks of contemporary India. In doing so, we not only reimagine feminism but also reaffirm the radical potential of dalit women’s voices in shaping the future of social justice discourse.