Feminism is understood in waves, each highlighting the evolving struggles and achievements in the women's movement. The first wave focused on securing basic rights like voting and education, while the second wave tackled systemic oppression, advocating for workplace equality and challenging domestic inequalities through liberal, radical, and cultural feminism. The third wave embraced 'intersectionality', a term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw, and celebrated individuality, diversity, and self-expression, often questioning earlier feminist norms. Today, the fourth wave builds on these foundations, driven by social media activism and movements like #MeToo.

India’s feminist movement, especially in the 1980s and ’90s, saw women rising against dowry deaths sparked by the tragic death of Hardeep Kaur, a young bride burned alive over dowry demands in 1979. Her story became the rallying cry for anti-dowry demonstrations across the country. Among the creative and emotional responses to these injustices was a street play titled 'Om Swaha', a raw, visceral depiction of dowry killings. Captured hauntingly by Sheba Chhachhi, a Delhi-based artist and photojournalist, the play became one of many powerful moments immortalized in her photo archive. Presented at Tate Modern as 'Seven Lives & A Dream',  this series takes us into a transformative decade of feminist activism in India, offering a rare and profound window into a movement fighting for survival and change. 

Between 1980 and 1991, Sheba Chhachhi documented the women’s movement through her lens, landing visually somewhere between the rawness of documentary photography and the intimacy of ethnographic portraiture. The series is split into two distinct sections: the first captures demonstrations, like those against dowry deaths, and the second comprises staged portraits of seven feminist activists. 

The photograph of 'Om Swaha', taken in 1982, stands out for its unsettling power. The scene juxtaposes anguished female performers with the impassive stares and smirks of male spectators, creating a stark commentary on society’s complicity in violence against women. Sheba’s decision to frame this moment highlights the emotional labour the women bore as they confronted systemic misogyny, while men often observed either indifferently or amused. 

But the series isn’t just about the public spectacle of protests. Sheba revisited the activists years later, inviting them to co-create portraits that embodied their identities. Each woman chose props and settings significant to her life: family photographs, symbols of their activism, or objects reflecting their roles as mothers, educators, and revolutionaries. By allowing these women to curate their own visual narratives, Sheba dismantled the typical power dynamic between photographer and subject, turning her camera into a collaborative tool of empowerment and storytelling. Watch her speak about her work in an interview below:

In the photos, we also see Shahjahan Apa, who built a miniature hut to symbolize her life in a shantytown. Shanti, another activist, surrounds herself with an axe and a diary, highlighting her dual role as a homemaker and a thinker. Sathyarani chose the steps of the Supreme Court of India as her backdrop, a nod to her legal battles for justice. Each image captures a “theater of the self,” as Sheba calls it, where the line between truth and fiction blurs, reflecting the multifaceted identities of these women.

This approach also sheds light on what the photographer refers to as 'indigenous feminism', a grassroots movement originating in the specific realities of South Asian women. It’s a feminism distinct from its Western counterpart, one that emerges from lived experiences of caste, class, religion, and cultural traditions.

Sheba's portraits go beyond mere documentation; they provoke, question, and ultimately reframe what it means to be a feminist in a rapidly changing India. 

There's also a subtle commentary on belonging and displacement. In the portraits, many women include photographs of their lost loved ones or personal objects that symbolize both what they’ve achieved and what they’ve endured. This theme resonates deeply with the idea of 'home', a space constantly in flux for many Indian women, especially those who fight against oppressive structures. 

Sheba herself critiques the colonial undertones of traditional documentary photography, where subjects are often stripped of agency. Through 'Seven Lives & A Dream', she reclaims the narrative, ensuring these women are seen not as victims but as powerful agents of change.

The idea of feminism or feminists now is sometimes associated with a caricature of an obnoxious Karen who no one wants to be friends with. They're the party poopers of patriarchy who hate men and have retired into cynicism.

I don't think we're a united front anymore; feminism has become more individualized. There's also a post-feminist outlook in the mix that is softer towards men and doesn't see them as the common enemy. It rather critiques the systems that cultivate a perspective and places value on personal responsibility to not succumb to sexism: less men vs women, more men and women vs patriarchy.

This nuance that we're seeing in our overall understanding of gender inequality is something that Sheba succeeded in producing two decades ago. Her work didn't try to simplify what freedom, equality, and safety can look like for a woman by dichotomising the gender dynamics that exist. She saw each person as her own universe with a distinct story, even when they grouped to fight injustice together. Her portraits brought a depth and humanity to the lives of these activists, making them impossible to dismiss. Their re-emergence today could not be more timely.

Find the entire series here.

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