Thirukkural: Beyond equality; why women deserve equity

Women possess natural qualities that make them not only efficient professionals but also instinctive leaders, being exceptional communicators. Nature has gifted them with the ability to multitask, and their affinity for stability often keeps them anchored in organisations. If Lewis Hamilton, the eight-time F1 champion, were a woman, she might never have left Mercedes for Ferrari—loyalty and endurance often define women’s choices.
Yet, despite policies designed to support women’s ascent to leadership, they remain underrepresented in the upper echelons. Asking why they aren’t they climbing the career ladder when policies are supportive is like asking why children go hungry in a land abundant with food. The answer lies in systemic inequities. Discrimination exists, subtle and insidious. Unconscious bias is the elephant in the room—towering yet unnoticed. But these are not the only barriers. Politics, favouritism, and general unfairness hinder progress. Men too face these challenges, but the question is the greater cause of why women must rise to leadership.
An organisation that truly nurtures talent need not offer preferential treatment based on gender but invest in equity—a concept often misunderstood. Equality is about giving everyone the same resources; equity is about ensuring individuals receive what they need to succeed. Even this well-known illustration depicts only men.

Women’s progress is not hindered by external forces alone. It is also about their hesitation in raising their hands when opportunity knocks. I recall an instance in my workplace when a project leader was needed. I gathered five men and three women and asked who wished to lead. The men raised their hands instantly. The women? They exchanged glances, silently assessing if the other women were raising their hands. Their reluctance is not due to a lack of ambition but the burden of household responsibilities, and the guilt of not being present for their children.
I have often observed men calling home to announce, “I’ll be late.” The tone—urgent, decisive—implies duty, sacrifice, heroism. In contrast, women making the same call weave apologies into every word—placating children, caregivers, in-laws, husbands, even their own mothers. Some men relish long hours at work, and it reinforces the enduring myth of the tireless male provider, but for women, absence is a burden. A child going to sleep without seeing her, an unfinished homework assignment, a forgotten birthday party costume—these are wounds that linger.
Organisations must recognise these realities. Diversity and inclusion policies are not mere acts of goodwill; they make business sense. Companies in the top quartile for gender diversity are 15% more likely to achieve better financial returns than their industry’s median. But despite this, the political climate, particularly Trump’s resurgence, has intensified the backlash against diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) initiatives, leading organisations to abandon goals once championed.
What, then, was Thiruvalluvar’s wisdom on equity? The answer lies in a rare couplet.
Podhu Nokkaan vendhan Varisayaa Nokkin
AdhuNokki Vaazhvaar Palar.
A leader does not regard all alike but rules with discernment;
Under such wisdom, many shall prosper.
Thiruvalluvar, with his timeless insight, did not speak of blind equality. He spoke of fairness—of measured governance that recognises individual needs. The path to equity is not about treating all equally but about ensuring everyone receives what they require to thrive. Only then will we see not just a few women at the top, but a world where talent, regardless of gender, flourishes unfettered.