I am a woman. Whatever attributes are attached to that word—whether mother, daughter, or partner—are secondary. I see myself as a silent thread woven into the fabric of our society, though rarely is my voice heard or my struggles acknowledged. Yet I write not only for myself, but for the countless women who have suffered in silence, whose stories have been lost in the noise of daily life.

Today, the media reports the suicide of 47-year-old Congress panchayat member S. Sreeja of Aryanad, Thiruvananthapuram. She ended her life after enduring financial stress and public humiliation over loans taken for her family’s medical needs and her daughters’ weddings. Her death is a chilling reminder of how financial dependency, political harassment, and societal judgment can converge to create unbearable pressure.

According to data published by Southfirst.com, in just the first half of 2025, Kerala witnessed the tragic suicides of more than 19 married women. These are not statistics—they were lives filled with dreams, hopes, and aspirations.

Among them was Jismol Jose, a 34-year-old lawyer and former vice president of Mutholy panchayat, who died along with her daughters Neha and Nora in the Meenachil River, Kottayam. Reports point to dowry harassment, abuse, and even colourism as causes of her suffering. Kerala’s deep-rooted obsession with fairness—colourism—remains a subtle yet devastating form of social violence.

Then there was Shiny Kuriakose, a 42-year-old nurse from Ettumanoor, who ended her life along with her two young daughters. Shiny had taken a ₹3 lakh loan through Kudumbashree for her father-in-law’s treatment and house repairs. The crushing weight of debt and expectations proved too heavy.

The list does not end there. Athulya Sekhar, just 30, allegedly died after assault by her husband in Kollam. Vipanchika Mani, 33, living in Sharjah, ended her life with her toddler, leaving behind a note describing years of abuse.

These tragedies show us how domestic violence, dowry harassment, financial strain, and societal expectations intersect—often in silence. They also remind us that the cost of neglecting women’s suffering extends beyond their lives to their children, whose laughter and futures are stolen alongside them.

National studies reveal the alarming depth of the crisis:
• 23.07% of married women who died by suicide in India cited domestic abuse.
• 36.3% pointed to family conflicts and strained relationships.
• In Kerala, a 26-year study showed that 34% of suicides were linked to family problems.

But behind every figure lies trauma—a story of resilience cut short.

Many women die after futile attempts to save marriages that have become prisons. I do not suggest divorce as an easy escape, but there is dignity in recognising when a chapter must end. Ending a marriage does not mean ending a family; it can mean transforming it. Walking away is always better than embracing death, which leaves only irreversible grief.

What shocks me is that Kerala—celebrated for literacy and social development—remains at the forefront of dowry-related deaths. Despite legal prohibitions, the evil persists. Depression, domestic violence, financial strain, and lack of family support drive women to despair, while stigma around mental health prevents them from seeking help.

Financial burdens add another layer—debts, economic dependency, and the middle-class race to maintain lifestyles beyond means. Medical crises only deepen this strain, yet better social security measures could ease such risks.

The suicide of married women in Kerala and across India is not a private tragedy—it is a societal failure. We need stronger enforcement of laws against domestic violence, greater access to mental health care, financial independence for women, and cultural change to dismantle stigma and inequality.

Above all, our daughters must be taught to think independently, to aspire, and to secure financial self-reliance.

As a woman, I ask for empathy, understanding, and urgent action. We cannot wait for another obituary to awaken us. Let us build a society where women are safe, valued, and empowered—not only to survive, but to thrive.

The time to act is now.