There is a new myth circulating in the fertile valleys of Nepali coffee shops and social media threads: that feminism and the Taga (Janai) festival are locked in mortal combat. If you listen to some of the loudest voices, you might picture it as a civilizational battle—sacred threads snapping under the ruthless scissors of gender equality activists, priests fleeing the temple while slogans about “patriarchy” echo through the streets, and a thousand years of tradition swept away in the name of modernity.
It’s an entertaining image—worthy of a mediocre Netflix drama—but it has one fatal flaw: it is fiction.
The Fabric of the Argument
Let us first pull at the loose thread of this so-called conflict. Feminism, in its most distilled form, demands equal dignity, opportunity, and respect for all genders. It does not say, “Burn your festivals.” It does not whisper in the ears of boys, “Abandon the sacred thread.” What it does say—firmly, and sometimes loudly—is this: whether or not you participate in a tradition, your worth as a human being must remain untouchable.
The Taga festival is a cultural and religious observance for many Hindu men, a renewal of vows and identity, and an affirmation of continuity. The idea that feminism somehow wants to abolish it is as absurd as claiming that an umbrella is at war with the monsoon because it prefers to keep you dry.
The Diversity We Forget
The second flaw in the “feminism vs. Taga” narrative is that it forgets Nepal is not a single-threaded culture. We are a complex weave of ethnicities, languages, and religions: Limbu, Rai, Gurung, Tharu, Sherpa, Muslim, Christian, and many more — each with their own rituals and symbols. The Taga festival is one motif in a much larger tapestry.
Feminism, if understood honestly, does not unravel this tapestry. It simply asks that no square in it be woven so tightly that it smothers half the people beneath it. The problem arises when tradition is interpreted not as a living heritage but as a fossil—something to be protected from air, light, and human equality.
The Invisible Hands of Tradition
Here is an irony that rarely makes it into the anti-feminist rants: the Taga festival has always depended on women. While men receive the sacred thread, it is often women who prepare the offerings, manage the household logistics, coordinate the timing, and ensure that the ritual can even take place.
In other words, while the priest ties the thread around the wrist, there is already an invisible thread—woven by mothers, sisters, and wives — holding the whole thing together. The sacred thread may be worn by the men, but the cultural fabric is maintained by women.
Feminism doesn’t want to cut that fabric; it wants the weavers to be acknowledged, respected, and—heaven forbid—given an equal seat at the decision-making table.
The Philosophical Mismatch
The supposed clash between feminism and Taga is not really about culture. It is about control. It comes from a fear that if women step into spaces traditionally dominated by men, the moral and symbolic authority of those men will shrink.
This is where a little philosophy helps. Heraclitus told us, “You cannot step into the same river twice.” Everything changes, even when it pretends not to. A tradition that refuses to change is like a pond with no fresh water—it becomes stagnant. True preservation comes not from locking a ritual in a glass case, but from allowing it to evolve while keeping its essence intact.
Feminism’s role here is not to erase the sacred thread but to widen the circle of who can hold it and what it means. If equality empties a tradition of meaning, perhaps the meaning was never as divine as its defenders claimed.
Satire: The Imaginary Battlefield
Let us indulge, for a moment, in the fantasy that there really is a battle. The armies are assembling: on one side, the Taga traditionalists, armed with threads, incense sticks, and long speeches about “our culture.” On the other side, the feminists, armed with slogans, academic papers, and a deep suspicion of male-only spaces.
The war begins. A feminist demands equal access to rituals; a priest faints. Someone tweets, “Culture is under attack!” Someone else replies, “Patriarchy is under attack!” The sacred thread, still sitting quietly on the wrist of an uncle in Biratnagar, wonders what all the fuss is about.
Meanwhile, in real life, most people simply go about their day—attending the ritual if they choose, ignoring it if they don’t, and somehow managing to live without feeling that their identity is under siege.
The Scholarly Lens
From a sociological perspective, rituals like the Taga festival serve multiple functions:
1. Identity Reinforcement – They affirm belonging to a community.
2. Social Cohesion – They bring families together, often across generations.
3. Cultural Transmission – They pass on values, stories, and practices.
Feminism does not oppose any of these functions. It only objects when these functions are gate-kept—when belonging, cohesion, and transmission are conditional on gender. If the sacred thread becomes a badge of superiority rather than a personal or spiritual symbol, the problem is not the thread itself but the hierarchy it represents.
Anthropologists have long documented that traditions adapt over time to remain relevant. The festivals of today are not identical to those of 200 years ago. In some places, even the Taga ritual has shifted in its form and symbolism. The question is not whether change will happen—it will—but whether that change will be guided by fairness or fear.
Humor in the Truth
If equality frightens your tradition, you may need to ask: is your culture truly as strong as you claim? A temple that collapses when women enter is not a temple of God; it is a monument to male insecurity. A sacred thread that loses its sanctity when women can wear it was never sacred in the first place—it was simply exclusive.
I once overheard a man complaining that “feminism will destroy our heritage.” He was, at the time, eating a slice of pizza, drinking Coke, and scrolling Instagram—none of which feature in the Manusmriti or Vedas. Apparently, heritage is sacred when it is male privilege, and negotiable when it is dinner.
The Real Battle
The truth is there is no war between feminism and the Taga festival. The real war is between ignorance and understanding, between those who see culture as a weapon and those who see it as a garden. In a garden, you remove weeds not because you hate plants, but because you love them enough to help them grow.
Feminism is the gardener’s hand, pruning inequality so the plant of culture can flourish. Those who scream “Don’t touch the plant!” while it withers from neglect are not defending tradition—they are embalming it.
A Call for a Wiser Tradition
What would it look like if the Taga festival embraced equality fully? Imagine women participating not only as organizers but as recognized ritual leaders. Imagine the sacred thread becoming a symbol of shared human responsibility, not male-only authority. Imagine a ritual that honors the contributions of every member of the community—visible and invisible alike.
Such a festival would not weaken tradition; it would strengthen it. It would survive not just in the bodies of those who wear the thread but in the hearts of those who believe in what it represents.
Final Thought
Traditions are like rivers. They must flow to stay alive. Feminism does not dam the river; it clears the rocks of discrimination that block its path. The Taga festival can choose to flow with the times, carrying its sacred meaning forward, or it can stagnate in a pool of outdated hierarchies.
If your culture cannot survive equality, then the threat is not feminism—it is fragility. And fragility, no matter how sacred its thread, is not worth defending.
So the next time someone warns you of the “war” between feminism and the Taga festival, smile politely and tell them: The only real enemy here is the belief that dignity is a limited resource. Culture and equality are not on opposite sides of the battlefield—they are meant to march together, side by side, into a future where no one needs to choose between their heritage and their humanity.
(Dr. Janardan Subedi is Professor of Sociology at Miami University, Ohio. He writes on political ethics, democratic transitions, and institutional accountability in South Asia.)
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