Paromita Vohra's Thoughtful 2002 Documentary Asks What It Means To Be An Indian Feminist

I think women not calling themselves feminists has nothing to do with feminism. It’s the word that’s been through the wringer, reduced to stereotypes, stretched out of shape by pop culture. Somewhere along the way, 'feminist' became a label people felt the need to qualify or defend, even if they stood by everything it meant. In everyday life, plenty of people, women and men alike, believe in fairness, question double standards, and push back against limiting roles. But they hesitate to take on the label because the term comes with too much noise.

In India, this tension takes on its own shape where personal choices, family dynamics, class, and tradition intersect with the politics of gender. However, beyond its visage, the feminist ideologies and backbone of the women's movement has always been tied to the quality of their lives; rooted in reality. It’s this space, between living the values and naming them, that 'Unlimited Girls', Paromita Vohra’s 2002 documentary, steps into with both warmth and sharpness, unfolding through a layered conversation about what feminism means, how it is understood, and how it plays out in real life.

At the centre of this journey is a narrator who goes by the username 'Fearless'. She stumbles into a feminist chatroom that is disguised, quite ironically, as a forum for finding true love. What begins as a digital accident turns into a sprawling investigation into the many meanings of feminism. The chatroom, populated mostly by women discussing gender politics and occasionally interrupted by clueless men asking for ASL or flirtatiously misreading the room, is emblematic of the film’s larger themes. It is a space shaped by contradiction, curiosity, and conflict.

Unlimited Girls stands apart from other feminist documentaries not just for its thematic ambition, but also its form. Paromita merges fiction with non-fiction, mixing satirical sketches, interviews, animations, and the narrator’s own musings. The film is self-reflective without being self-indulgent. This hybrid style captures the complexity of feminism as something lived rather than merely studied. The tone is light-footed, even if the questions it raises are weighty.

The documentary asks what it means to call oneself a feminist. Why is it that many women live feminist lives but avoid the label? Is it possible to remain politically conscious while resisting group affiliations? How does one navigate the personal and the political without getting lost in jargon or fatigue? The film probes these questions through a wide range of voices, from activists to academics to everyday women negotiating their desires, careers, and relationships.

One of the film’s most poignant observations comes from married women who identify with feminist principles but choose to maintain traditional domestic partnerships. This raises uncomfortable but necessary questions: Do we sometimes settle for a more lukewarm version of feminism to preserve comfort or avoid loneliness? Is this compromise or cowardice, or just another choice? Unlimited Girls allows such contradictions to sit side by side.

The film also ventures into the realm of feminist historiography and media representation. Through Fearless’s research, we learn, for instance, that the famous image of bra-burning feminists was a myth. What actually happened was a symbolic act of throwing bras into a trash can. But the media misreported it, and the phrase stuck. The film uses this anecdote as a metaphor for the ways in which feminism is often misunderstood, exaggerated, or reduced to caricature. Bra-burning, it seems, was never about burning; it was about disposal. Yet, the story took on a life of its own, framing feminism as angry, militant, even hysterical, instead of simply a rejection of patriarchy.

This anecdote leads to a larger critique of how knowledge itself is produced and circulated. Most of what we understand as 'universal knowledge' is authored by men, often reflecting male experiences. Feminism, then, becomes not just a critique of patriarchy but also a reimagining of epistemology. Unlimited Girls pushes viewers to consider feminist knowledge as something that is dialogic, embodied, and always in flux. It is not just about adding women’s voices to the archive but rethinking what counts as knowledge in the first place.

This impulse is also reflected in the film’s stylistic choices. Paromita avoids the rigid format of conventional documentaries, opting instead for sketches and sequences that blend satire with sincerity. These include dramatized conversations, animations, and moments of whimsical introspection. For instance, after diving into dense feminist literature and theory, Fearless finds herself exhausted and longing for a romantic novel; a subtle nod to the fact that ideological commitment can be draining. That revolution, too, needs moments of joy.

Unlimited Girls refuses to present feminism as a monolith. The chatroom scenes highlight this diversity of thought — women disagree with each other, debate priorities, and bring in perspectives shaped by class, caste, sexuality, and profession. And thus, intersectionality comes into the picture. The film traces how early women’s movements in India assumed that gender was the most critical identity marker, only to discover that it was often the most visible but not the most determining one. Feminism, in this view, is not about uniformity but about acknowledging difference and negotiating it.

The documentary also casts a wide net in terms of its themes. It touches upon employment, relationships, media representation, political movements, sexuality, and popular culture. Throughout, its tone remains accessible, making it an effective entry point for those unfamiliar with feminist discourse while still offering depth to those who are.

“In a room full of voices,” the film asks, “how do you identify the real feminist?” This is not a trick question, but a reminder that feminist identity is not a fixed thing. It is performed, interpreted, sometimes misread, but always shaped by context. The documentary’s lasting strength lies in this openness.

Today, more than two decades after its release, Unlimited Girls feels remarkably ahead of its time. As online feminism becomes more visual and less discursive, and as gender debates become more polarised, this film’s insistence on dialogue, complexity, and humour feels both urgent and refreshing. The larger film feels like a course correction in our perception of feminism that moves from having all the answers to simply asking the right questions.

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