Work from home sounds like flexibility. It may be a way to cage women

A recent rape incident, involving a minor in a public park, has sparked outrage in the capital. In response to student protests concerning safety in public spaces, Lady Shri Ram College, situated just a kilometer from Aastha Kunj Park, opted to shift its classes online. This decision is emblematic of a broader trend: women facing concerns are often advised to confine themselves indoors.

This approach has long been a go-to solution for families and educational institutions. During my college days, I recall the Pinjra Tod movement and the night walks that aimed to reclaim streets, challenging the notion that women's safety could be guaranteed by limiting their mobility. However, a new lockdown is now facilitated by technology.

The digital realm that earlier empowered women to venture out is increasingly being used to confine them. While I grew up in the early 2000s, the BPO sector experienced rapid growth, with more women entering the workforce. Night shifts became routine, offering a semblance of financial independence and mobility. Women began occupying public spaces, and the public imagination started to view them as equal citizens.

Regrettably, institutions now seem more inclined to abandon their responsibilities and transition to online modes rather than addressing underlying issues. The COVID-19 pandemic made this transition smoother. What began as an emergency response has evolved into a convenient solution for various problems. When a neighborhood proves unsafe, classes move online.

When pollution becomes unbearable, schools shift online. During a heatwave or public disruption, work moves online. Also Read | What do we tell a girl who asks: Was it my clothes? My body? Though digital work and online education can be invaluable, the issue arises when they become the default response to concerns. Rather than addressing how women can safely navigate public spaces, we are making it easier for them to avoid them altogether.

This shift towards online work and education also presumes that the home is inherently safe and productive. For many women, domestic spaces are fraught with violence, surveillance, and unequal power dynamics. When a woman works or studies from home, boundaries blur between paid work and unpaid domestic labor. Universities, in this context, are not merely places where students receive information for a few hours.

They serve as social and intellectual spaces where young men and women learn independence and negotiate their roles as citizens. Post-pandemic, there is a growing expectation that women can simply "work from home" (WFH). Since becoming a mother, I frequently encounter inquiries like, "Why do you need to travel to a university? Couldn't you just teach online, prioritizing your child?"

I observe an increasing number of families opting for daughters to study closer to home rather than leaving the city. Remote work gains appeal as it allows women to earn while simultaneously managing the household. In a recent "rishta meeting," a cousin was told that she could work from home "if she liked," with no need to visit an office due to the prevailing "unfavorable situation."

Working from home appears flexible, but we must be wary that technology could serve as a more sophisticated method of confining women – a notion that is less overtly imprisoning because the door is not visibly locked.