The Subtle Patriarchy of Inheritance in Educated Homes

Even in the most educated households, patriarchy doesn’t always scream — it whispers. It shows up not in sweeping declarations, but in quiet decisions, ambiguous conversations, and unfair expectations masked as family norms.

Recently, I experienced one such moment.

My father wanted to buy a house — one he was already living in and renting. He asked me to contribute a significant sum towards the purchase, saying he was giving me my “share” out of affection. He said the property would eventually be transferred in my name. What was striking wasn’t the financial request itself, but the casual framing of it: that this was being done for me, that it was a gesture of love.

My husband, who sat quietly through most of it, finally said what I was thinking: “She is paying for this. This is not a gift or affection. You’re taking money from her. Don’t position this as something you’re giving.” And in that moment, I saw something clearly. The same “affection” wasn’t needed for my brother. No such contribution was expected from him. He receives — unquestioned — simply by virtue of being the son.

This is how patriarchy hides in plain sight, even among the educated. In families that pride themselves on fairness, daughters are subtly reminded that they’re still outsiders when it comes to inheritance and property. It’s not always overt. Sometimes it’s the ambiguity — the kind that avoidant parents cultivate around wealth and property, leaving things “to be figured out later.” What that really means in Indian households is: the daughter will be sidelined, and the son will be defaulted to.

The cultural script is predictable. Disputes arise after the parents are gone, when nothing is clear and assumptions fester into arguments. The law in India is actually clear — daughters have an equal right to their father’s property under the Hindu Succession Act (amended in 2005). It doesn’t matter if she’s married. She has the same legal rights as her brother.

But society? Society will tell you that since you’re married, your husband will take care of you. That you shouldn’t ask too much. That a son has to “run the house” while the daughter now belongs “elsewhere.” It will silence the daughter with guilt, shame, and emotional blackmail, making her feel as if claiming what’s lawfully hers is a betrayal.

This is how relationships get fractured. Not when people die — but when they leave behind unspoken inequities that fester into wounds.

We need to have honest conversations in our families — especially the ones that claim to be progressive. Because patriarchal thinking doesn’t disappear with education. It just becomes more polite.

And if we don’t speak now, we leave silence to do the speaking for us — and that silence almost never sides with the daughter