Shipra and Deeksha Sharma
Most women do not begin their relationship with money on the stock exchange. They begin it in the kitchen.
It starts quietly—currency notes tucked into a lentil jar, loose change forgotten in the pockets of old jeans, small savings that surface precisely when life becomes uncertain. These acts are rarely called what they are: deliberate financial strategies rooted in protection and foresight. Instead, women have long been dismissed as accidental savers, cautious but incapable of building wealth.
The missing link has never been intelligence. It has been access to financial literacy—the bridge that allows one to move from saving for safety to investing for growth. As Morgan Housel writes in The Psychology of Money, “Doing well with money has a little to do with how smart you are and a lot to do with how you behave.”
If behaviour shapes financial success, why does the stereotype of women being “bad with money” continue to endure?
These remarks—women can’t calculate a bill, women will spend it all on shopping—surface casually in everyday conversations, often laughed off as harmless jokes. But they reveal deeply embedded beliefs about women’s financial competence, beliefs shaped by social conditioning and reinforced by institutions.
Consider demonetisation in 2016. As the policy unfolded, large volumes of cash emerged from women’s informal household savings. These funds were not the result of financial naïveté but of years of disciplined, incremental sacrifice. For many women, this money functioned as a safety net—used during medical emergencies, economic shocks, or even to escape abusive situations. Far from being reckless, these practices reflected sophisticated risk management.
The same holds true for women’s historic investment in gold. Often dismissed as vanity, gold has long served as a store of value and a form of financial autonomy. In societies where women were denied ownership of land or property, jewellery passed down generations became a liquid asset they could control. These informal practices—rarely captured by official data—continue to shape women’s risk perceptions and financial decisions.
The gender gap in financial literacy is not natural; it is structural. Finance has been framed as a male domain, reinforced by patriarchal norms that divide financial labour—men accumulate capital through investments and property, while women manage household consumption.
In India, even progressive laws such as the Hindu Succession (Amendment) Act, 2005, have not fully translated into control over assets. Social pressure and the desire to “keep the peace” often leave financial authority concentrated in men’s hands.
Economic participation has risen, but power has not kept pace. Female labour force participation reached 33.7 percent in July–September 2025, yet earning an income does not automatically confer decision-making authority. Women are encouraged to save but discouraged from taking risks. Combined with the gender wage gap, this limits wealth accumulation and restricts access to the very tools—credit, insurance, equity—that build long-term financial security.
Exclusion from formal markets has never meant passivity. Long before “financial inclusion” became policy language, women created parallel financial systems of their own.
Kitty parties, chit funds, and Rotating Savings and Credit Associations (ROSCAs) are forms of community finance built on trust, collective accountability, and pooled risk. In Manipur, women-run markets operate as autonomous economic ecosystems, demonstrating that when given space, women exercise both financial discipline and leadership.
Formal institutions are only now beginning to recognise this potential. NABARD’s efforts to link Self-Help Groups with banks, and the Reserve Bank of India’s establishment of over 2,400 Centres for Financial Literacy, reflect a shift from access alone to capability building.
Over the past decade, the state has made significant investments in financial education. A pan-India Financial Literacy and Inclusion Survey in 2017 found an overall literacy score of just 11.9 out of 21, revealing wide regional disparities. In response, the National Centre for Financial Education expanded outreach in underserved areas, while SEBI’s education initiatives have reached millions since 2010.
Financial literacy has also entered classrooms. Under the National Strategy for Financial Education (2020–25) and the National Education Policy 2020, financial education is now embedded in school curricula. Targeted programmes such as Niveshak Didi aim to reach rural and semi-urban women through grassroots engagement.
Access, however, is not agency. Financial inclusion means little if women cannot make independent choices about their money. Training alone cannot dismantle norms that limit women’s decision-making power within households and markets.
Closing this gap requires a shift—from silence to strategy.
It begins by normalising conversations about money. Interest rates should be discussed as casually as brunch plans. It continues by starting small: one SIP, one comprehensive insurance policy, one independent emergency fund. And it demands a mindset shift. Financial confidence is not a personality trait—it is a learned practice, built through exposure, conversation, and the refusal to remain a passive observer of one’s own wealth.
Motivational slogans will not set women free. Financial certainty will. When women gain control over money, the impact extends far beyond individual lives—it reshapes families, communities, and economies.
