The Woman Who Wants to Work, But Can’t

The Woman Who Wants to Work, But Can’t

The Woman Who Wants to Work, But Can’t

Imagine a young woman who has completed college.

She has a degree. She has ambitions. She may even have a job she would like to apply for.

But the office is too far from home.

The last bus leaves too early.

Her family is uncomfortable with her travelling alone.

There is no affordable childcare if she has a child.

The job requires working late, but returning home after dark is considered unsafe.

Or perhaps she is expected to look after younger siblings, elderly parents, children, cooking and the household before she can even think about earning an income.

So she stays home.

On paper, she may simply appear as a woman who is “not working.”

But that description misses the real story.

Sometimes the problem is not that women do not want to work.

The problem is that the world of work has not been designed in a way that makes working possible.

India has made considerable progress in women’s economic participation. The latest government data shows that the female Labour Force Participation Rate for people aged 15 and above reached 40.0% in 2025, up from much lower levels in earlier years. Yet the corresponding figure for men was 79.1%. The gap remains enormous. (Press Information Bureau)

And perhaps the most revealing statistic is not the participation rate itself.

It is why women remain outside the workforce.

According to the 2025 Periodic Labour Force Survey, 44.4% of women outside the labour force cited childcare, personal commitments or homemaking as their main reason. For men, the dominant reason was very different: 69.8% cited being engaged in studies. (Press Information Bureau)

That tells us something important.

When a young man is outside the workforce, we are often willing to imagine him as someone preparing for his future.

When a woman is outside it, we too often assume she has simply chosen not to work.

The distinction matters.

The invisible cost of being a woman who works

Getting a job is only one part of employment.

A woman also has to get to that job.

She has to get home.

She has to negotiate household responsibilities.

She may have to arrange childcare.

She has to consider whether the workplace is safe, whether the commute is affordable, whether her family will accept the working hours, and whether the salary is high enough to justify all of these costs.

This is why transport policy is also employment policy.

The World Bank has repeatedly highlighted safe transport, mobility and childcare as important barriers to women’s participation in South Asia. In India, women’s interaction with public transport is also different from men’s, with safety, waiting times and the design of public spaces affecting their ability to access education and employment. (World Bank)

Think about the economics of a job.

Suppose a woman is offered a position paying ₹20,000 a month.

Her commute costs ₹4,000.

She needs childcare costing another ₹5,000.

The job requires her to leave home before her children are awake and return after they are asleep.

Suddenly, the decision is no longer simply:

“Do I want this job?”

It becomes:

“Can my life accommodate this job?”

That is a very different question.

Education has improved. The transition to work hasn’t kept pace.

India has invested heavily in educating girls and women.

But education alone does not guarantee economic participation.

A woman can graduate from university and still face barriers that have little to do with her degree.

The World Bank’s recent work on India identifies several constraints, including the disproportionate burden of childcare and domestic work, gaps in school-to-work transitions, skills mismatches, limited access to finance, safety concerns, social norms and inadequate infrastructure. (World Bank)

This creates a strange contradiction.

We tell girls:

Study.

They study.

Get a degree.

They get a degree.

Become financially independent.

And then, somewhere between graduation and employment, the system presents them with a maze of obstacles that their education never prepared them to navigate.

The answer cannot simply be another skills programme.

Skills matter.

But a trained woman who cannot safely reach her workplace is still excluded.

A qualified woman who has no childcare is still constrained.

A graduate who cannot find a job compatible with family responsibilities is still facing a structural barrier.

The marriage penalty

There is another uncomfortable part of this conversation.

Women often leave the workforce around marriage and family formation.

This does not necessarily mean their ambitions disappear.

Sometimes the economics change.

Sometimes household expectations change.

Sometimes the cost of continuing to work becomes too high.

And once a woman leaves the labour market, returning can be surprisingly difficult.

Her career progression stops.

Her professional network weakens.

Her skills may become outdated.

The jobs available to her later may pay less.

This creates a penalty that compounds over time.

A woman who leaves work for five years does not simply lose five years of salary.

She may lose promotions, savings, experience, professional networks and bargaining power.

That is why childcare is not merely a “women’s issue.”

It is economic infrastructure.

The World Bank’s 2026 work on childcare makes precisely this broader point: affordable, quality childcare can support children’s development while simultaneously enabling women’s employment and entrepreneurship. (World Bank)

What would actually help?

If India wants more women in the workforce, the solution needs to be bigger than telling women to “be empowered.”

We need to make participation possible.

That means safe and affordable transport.

It means better lighting and safer public spaces.

It means reliable childcare.

It means workplaces that offer reasonable flexibility without turning flexibility into a career penalty.

It means hostels and safe accommodation for women who migrate for employment.

It means stronger mechanisms against workplace harassment.

It means vocational education that connects directly to actual jobs.

And it means employers recognising that a worker’s productivity should not be measured by how late she stays in the office.

There are already examples of what this can look like.

Tamil Nadu’s Women Employment and Safety programme, supported by the World Bank, aims to improve job access for 1.6 million women, with more than 600,000 women receiving skills training and career support. The programme also includes childcare, safe transport, hostels and mechanisms for reporting harassment. (World Bank)

That combination is important.

Notice what it does not say:

“Let’s train women and hope everything else sorts itself out.”

Instead, it treats employment as an ecosystem.

Skills + transport + childcare + safety + finance + opportunity.

That is much closer to the real problem.

We should also rethink what counts as “work”

There is another issue hiding underneath the statistics.

Millions of women contribute enormous amounts of unpaid labour inside households.

Cooking.

Cleaning.

Looking after children.

Caring for elderly family members.

Managing household logistics.

Supporting family businesses.

Much of this work is economically valuable, but it often does not appear as a conventional job.

This creates a strange paradox.

A woman can spend eight hours a day doing work that keeps a household functioning and still be described as “not working.”

The policy question, therefore, is not simply:

“How do we get women into jobs?”

It is:

“How do we give women genuine choices about how they participate in economic life?”

Some will want full-time employment.

Some will want entrepreneurship.

Some may prefer part-time work.

Some may want home-based work.

Some may want to return to employment after raising children.

The goal should not be to force every woman into the same model.

The goal should be to ensure that the model she chooses is actually available to her.

This is bigger than gender equality

There is a tendency to discuss women’s employment as though it were primarily a social-justice issue.

It is that.

But it is also an economic-growth issue.

India cannot realistically aspire to become a high-income economy while leaving a huge share of its potential workforce underutilised.

The World Bank estimates that increasing women’s labour-force participation in India to 50% could add around one percentage point to annual GDP growth, bringing the country closer to the growth rate needed to reach high-income status by 2047. (World Bank)

That is not a small opportunity.

It means the woman who cannot take a job because there is no safe way to get home is not merely facing a personal inconvenience.

India is losing productive capacity.

The woman who leaves her career because childcare is unaffordable is not merely making a household decision.

The economy loses her skills.

The woman who never applies for a job because her family believes commuting is unsafe is not simply “choosing not to work.”

A potential worker is being excluded before she even enters the labour market.

And that distinction matters enormously.

The question we should be asking

For years, the conversation around women’s employment has often been framed as:

“How do we convince more women to work?”

Perhaps we should ask a different question.

“What would have to change for a woman who wants to work to actually be able to work?”

That question takes us beyond motivational speeches and into policy.

It takes us to buses that run when women need them.

To streets where women feel safe.

To affordable childcare.

To flexible workplaces.

To skills that lead somewhere.

To housing that allows women to migrate for work.

To employers who judge performance rather than physical presence.

And ultimately, to a society where a woman’s ambition does not have to compete with her responsibilities alone.

India does not have a shortage of women capable of working.

It has a shortage of systems that make work compatible with women’s lives.

The difference is enormous.

Because when a woman says, “I want to work,” the answer should not be:

“Then overcome every obstacle yourself.”

It should be:

“Let’s make sure the road to work is actually open.” 🌱

And perhaps that is the real employment policy India needs: not merely creating jobs for women, but removing the barriers that prevent women from reaching them.

A woman who cannot work because the system makes working impossible is not a failure of ambition.

It is a failure of access.