When I decided to become a chef, I was fresh out of high school and needed professional experience to apply to culinary school. None of the 22 hotels I applied to across India wanted a female kitchen intern. Eventually, I had to move to Mumbai to land a position.
Bright-eyed and ready to work, I stepped into the executive chef’s office, only to be met with his dismissive suggestion: “You’d like to work in the bakery, right? Like all the other girls.”
That one sentence sparked a deep-rooted disdain for baking in me. I respect pastry chefs immensely – their precision, their patience – but I knew then I didn’t want to be shoved into a corner of the kitchen simply because of my gender.
It was my first taste of how professional kitchens in India typecast women. The bakery and cold kitchen are considered “softer” spaces, neatly tucked away from the high-heat, high-pressure chaos of the hot line, where men reign. Even when women break into these spaces, they’re often expected to prove themselves twice over, working harder for half the respect.
Cooking in India sits at a strange crossroads of gendered expectations. In countless homes, cooking is a woman’s duty – an unpaid act of love, often invisible and uncelebrated. The “mother's touch” in cooking is revered, almost mythologised. But step into a professional kitchen, that same touch is dismissed. Culinary work becomes serious business, dominated by men in crisp chef’s whites, wielding knives and titles. Here, men dominate and are rewarded with accolades, TV deals and become celebratory stars.
A 2022 Pew Research study highlights that 55% of Indians believe men should be the primary breadwinners, while women should focus on domestic roles. This societal expectation frames cooking at home as a woman’s duty while professional cooking is deemed a man’s domain.
I pushed my body beyond its limits, determined to outlast the sneers, the side-eyes, the constant casual sexism. But the emotional toll was harder to ignore – the exhaustion of constantly needing to be twice as good just to be seen as equal. There were days I felt invincible, fueled by sheer determination and moments of triumph – like the first time I ran a successful dinner service, or when a regular customer specifically requested my dishes.
But there were also days where I questioned why I had to fight so hard just to do what I loved. I lifted heavier stock pots than I should have, stayed on my feet for 16-hour shifts without breaks and took on every difficult station, all in an attempt to be seen as an equal.
The pressure wasn’t just external. It was cultural. Family gatherings echoed with, “Why not a ‘normal’ job?” Yet, every service I completed felt like a small victory. Now, more than a decade later, my body bears the brunt of that fight – aches, injuries and a lingering frustration at how deeply these dynamics run.
There were moments that crystallised this gender divide. I remember during service, when customers would ask to speak to the chef and despite leading the line, they would immediately bypass me, looking for a man who seemed “in charge”.
Once, a cook even walked out during his interview when he realised I would be the chef hiring and training him. Or the time a supplier insisted on explaining the basics of knife sharpening to me, even with my decade of experience, because “these things can be tricky for women”.
Or my personal favorite: the vendor who refused to make eye contact with me and would only speak to me through a male purchase manager, even when I was the one specifying the exact product I needed. It was like playing an awkward game of culinary telephone, where my requests were translated into “man-speak” before they were deemed legitimate.
These aren’t isolated incidents. A 2019 study by the Indian Culinary Forum found that less than 10% of professional chefs in India are women. Indian culinary spaces, from roadside dhabas to fine dining, have long been male-dominated. This disparity underscores how systemic these biases are, woven into the fabric of culinary spaces – from the home kitchen to the fine dining restaurant.
This cultural contradiction runs deep. In India, home cooking is revered as the ultimate marker of comfort and authenticity. Yet, step into a professional kitchen, and that same culinary labour when done by women loses its prestige. The hand that stirs the pot at home for generations is not seen as worthy of the chef’s whites.
But change is simmering. Across India, women are claiming professional culinary spaces, not just as chefs, but as food historians, entrepreneurs and restaurateurs. They are redefining what it means to hold authority in food. Women are running pop-ups that celebrate hyperlocal cuisines, opening community kitchens that highlight sustainability, and creating media platforms that challenge male-dominated narratives.
By stepping outside traditional restaurant hierarchies, they are rewriting the script. This is a stark difference from the usual situation where women in professional kitchens are often pitted against each other, not just by male colleagues but by the structures that limit their presence. Senior female chefs who have endured sexism and gatekeeping sometimes perpetuate the same hardships onto younger women, believing they must prove themselves the same way.
Food media plays a powerful role in shaping public perception. Male chefs are often framed as daring innovators, as risk-takers who push boundaries. But women are seen as preservers of tradition, even when they’re the ones driving culinary change. Cooking shows, food festivals, and even social media often lean into these stereotypes, casting male chefs as rock stars and women as caretakers. This bias filters into opportunities too, with male chefs landing more sponsorship deals, prime-time slots, and headline events, while women are pigeonholed into “authentic home cooking” spaces.
But the media can also be a tool for disruption. Women chefs, food historians, and influencers are using platforms like Instagram and YouTube to bypass traditional gatekeepers, building their own narratives and spotlighting underrepresented cuisines. The challenge now is ensuring that these platforms do not replicate old hierarchies under a new guise.
The kitchen is not just about food – it’s about power. For real change, industry stakeholders, media platforms and consumers must actively advocate for more inclusive practices. They should support women-led spaces, demand equitable policies and question the narratives that shape perceptions of culinary authority. Only then can the kitchen become a space that truly feeds everyone – equally.
Systemic change will go a long way: Transparent promotion pathways, mentorship programmes, bias training and policies that address pay equity and harassment are critical.
By fostering environments where diverse voices are valued, kitchens can become spaces of genuine innovation and inclusivity.
Puja Sen is a culinary expert and cultural researcher with degrees from the Culinary Institute of America, Cornell University and the University of Buckingham, specialising in food culture and global cuisines.
