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at the border of Haryana and Delhi.
Before the protests, some women had
never stepped out of their homes with-
out a veil, let alone spoken onstage in
front of thousands of men. Many arrive
at the sites in tractors, a powerful—and
previously male— symbol of farming in
India. “Women are changing women
here,” Nat says. “They are claiming their
identities as farmers.”
All of this is happening in India’s pa-
triarchal heartland, where femicide, sex-
ual violence and discrimination are ram-
pant. “We have been working to bringmercy of buyers and eliminate the tra-
ditional wholesale market system, with
its minimum set price for certain crops.
Women, who form the backbone
of Indian agriculture, may be particu-
larly vulnerable to corporate exploi-
tation. According to Oxfam India,
85% of rural women work in agricul-
ture, but only around 13% own any
land. “Women are not seen as farm-
ers. Their labor is immense but invisi-
ble,” says Jasbir Kaur Nat, a member of
the Punjab Kisan Union, who is mobi-
lizing farmers in Tikri, the protest site● LEFT The protests
have drawn
women of all
ages. While some
speak onstage,
others are simply
determined to be
present. “I am an
illiterate woman,”
says Gurmer Kaur,
center, at the
protests with her
friends Surjit Kaur,
left, and Jaswant
Kaur, right, all in
their mid-70s.
“I cannot talk
well, but I can sit
tight—and I will
sit here till the
next elections if
these laws are not
called off.”
● RIGHT Amandeep
Kaur, 41, from
Talwandi, Punjab,
is employed as
a community
health worker and
as a farmer to
support her two
daughters. Her
husband died by
suicide five years
ago; because
she did not know
her rights, she
didn’t receive
government
compensation
given to families
of farmers who
die by suicide.
The new laws, she
says, “will kill us,
will destroy what
little we have.
How am I going
to negotiate with
businessmen?”