Small and seemingly ordinary acts can be powerful challengers of sexist gender norms and practices.
A small act of a woman mindfully opening the door for a man and gesturing for him to go first, addressing female employees in an email before the men, or even just referring to God as “She” instead of “He” might trigger a little pause, a little blip in what’s ‘normal’—and that’s the point.
One small action by someone can create a change within the space itself, and its reaction of “Hmm…That’s different!” can trigger awareness or acknowledgement of the wider sexist norms at play, even in the smallest of instances.
Thai-Indian community members share their acts of micro-feminism to resist and rebel against the status quo of gender norms:
My series of micro-feminism acts began when I decided that I did not want to tiptoe around having my period around my family members.
I did not want to be part and parcel of a culture that still had individuals who believed that I shouldn’t go to the temple when I was on my period, that having my period signified I was ‘dirty’, or that I shouldn’t be in the kitchen when on it.
I didn’t want to enable any of this, and I wanted to rebel against it. Thus, my cousin-sisters and I had frequent conversations with my brother about what periods were, how they affect women (emotionally and physically), and how they are totally normal.
Because of his awareness and exposure to these conversations, he is very comfortable with buying pads for me—he knows the size, the brand, and the type I need according to which day of my cycle I am on. Most importantly, he is very empathetic and understanding of the women around him.
This open-mindedness has extended to having conversations about menopause as well, to help him understand the ongoing journey of a woman, and how we get no rest from our bodies.
With my dad, it was more difficult, but my rebellion persisted through his anger and discomfort with me being so open about my period with him.
He became more understanding when he had to pick me up from school due to the pain I experienced monthly and, slowly, he accepted the reality that women go through.
It took many years, but now my dad is okay with me talking about it.
If I am in pain, if I am having an extra hard day due to my period, I know my dad will listen and be receptive.
For many of us, independence is expected to come after marriage.
My journey took a different shape.
I’ve moved through many worlds—from Australia for university, to Pattaya, Nonthaburi, and Charoen Nakhon for work, and now back into the Phrom Phong bubble. Each move wasn’t just a change of address; it was a quiet act of independence.
In a community where daughters are often expected to live at home until marriage, choosing to move out—again and again—became my form of micro-feminism. It was my way of saying independence doesn’t have to wait for a husband or a household. It can begin with the simple, ordinary act of creating a space of your own.
I moved out in my early 20s, not out of rebellion, but out of a desire to grow. Creating my own home taught me lessons I could never have learned within the safety of a family household: how to rely on myself, how to balance responsibility, and how to find belonging on my own terms.
I’ll never forget when someone reacted with surprise, “Oh, you’ve moved out?”
I heard the wow in their voice and felt annoyed at first because this was someone who had followed the social script, and the wow sounded like admiration for it.
But in that moment, I realised how different our paths were, and how independence takes many shapes. My independence wasn’t tied to marriage or children—it was tied to choice.
For a long time, I didn’t have the courage to share openly that I was living away from home. Deep down, I knew I might hear that same surprised response, and so I kept it to myself. But when I finally spoke to someone I’ve always admired growing up, they told me, “You don’t need to hide it.”
That stayed with me. So here is me, not hiding it.
Living alone gave me more than just space; it gave me wholeness, safety, quiet, and authenticity.
It meant paying my own bills, packing and unpacking through every move, setting up homes from scratch, and learning how to cook, plan, and soothe myself.
Each ordinary act taught me something: resilience, self-reliance, adaptability, and agency. Most of all, I learned that independence is not something to wait for; it’s something you can create for yourself, again and again.
Maybe from the outside it looks small. But for me, and for the girls who notice, it’s a crack in the script—a reminder that the most ordinary choices, like moving out, can sometimes transform us the most.
Last semester, when I was teaching a post-grad level design unit, I quickly noticed that sometimes male students were more comfortable taking the floor and talking about bigger companies or the theories behind them.
I felt as though some of the women were holding back… even though they clearly knew the material and their work was just as strong.
When I went around to chat with the groups during their design project exhibitions, I asked one of the women to explain part of the process she had led. I framed it as, “You worked on this section, could you tell us more about how you approached it?”
She went into detail and explained it really well, and the rest of the group clearly benefitted from hearing her perspective. Afterwards, she told me she appreciated being given the opportunity to share what she knew, because otherwise she might have stayed quiet.
It was something small, and I did not think much of it at the time, but it showed me how micro-feminism can play out in the classroom by making sure everyone’s contributions are visible.
At some events I’ve been to, I’ve noticed a really small but meaningful gesture. When couples are introduced, like at weddings or corporate events, sometimes, the organisers will often announce the woman’s name first instead of defaulting to the man’s name.
It might seem like a tiny thing, but it flips the usual order we’re so used to hearing. I remember thinking how refreshing it felt; women were being placed on equal footing rather than as an afterthought.
It’s such a simple change, but it’s the kind of micro-feminist action that sticks with you and quietly reshapes how people perceive gender dynamics in office and academic spaces.
Micro-feminist acts are everyday reminders of progress and acts of resistance.
They provide evidence of how thought processes have indeed altered and change is occurring in real-time.
A woman holding her space when talking about her menstrual cycle is a change.
A man listening to her and acknowledging her menstrual pain is a change.
A woman in the driver’s seat and her partner in the passenger’s seat is a change—small, but meaningful, real change.
Even though it might not be an important change in your family, it is for someone else’s—and collectively it is a change for us all.
It’s a change that you can touch, a change that you can see, and a change that is literally at home.
No more waiting for macro-level transformations that are far away and far between, detached and distant.
• “I read books that have female characters as the lead roles to my children—to my son and my daughter—so that they both know that women can be more than princesses that need rescuing.”
• “Once in 7th grade, my teacher asked us if we could replace a noun with a pronoun. The sentence was, ‘The pilot flew the plane.’
I raised my hand. He called on me and said that he thinks that even I will not get this one correct.
I then answered, ‘She flew the plane.’
He was pleasantly surprised and said that I got it correct. This was an important moment for micro-feminism in several ways.”
• “I tell every woman to earn for herself. Money is tangible power, and it isn’t about power, really; it is about independence. I lead by example, of course.”
• “My husband buys my sanitary items from the supermarket when I am in need. At the beginning of our marriage, he resisted. Now, he is fine. Growth, I guess.”