The world’s most powerful women are still fighting the oldest battle: Sexism in politics

Across the world, women political leaders — from presidents to parliamentarians — are facing a disturbing resurgence of sexist attacks. Some are harassed online, others groped in public, and many reduced to their bodies, their marriages, their surnames or their supposed 'character.' It is not happening on the margins of society; it is happening in front of cameras, on parliamentary floors, on global stages.

Sexism in politics is not new. But the scale, boldness, and normalization of it in the recent past reveal something far more alarming: patriarchal power structures are not merely resisting women’s rise in politics — they are actively retaliating.

The Trump era of misogyny

When Donald Trump boasted in 2005 that he could “grab ’em by the p—–,” he dismissed it as harmless locker-room talk. 20 years later, the man leading the world’s most powerful democracy has directed this hate at his female political rivals.


While campaigning for 2024 presidential elections, Trump drew backlash for reposting a vulgar post — originally written by another user — that insinuated the Democratic nominee’s political rise was the result of sexual favours. The post featured images of Kamala Harris alongside Hillary Clinton and carried the caption: “Funny how blowjobs impacted both their careers differently…”.

At a Georgia rally, Trump even laughed along while a speaker compared Harris to a prostitute with 'pimp handlers.' The applause that followed wasn’t just for Trump; it was an endorsement of the narrative that powerful women are inherently sexualized, diminished, or deserving of contempt.

Trump has repeatedly mocked US Congresswoman Ilhan Omar with baseless smear of 'woman who marries her brother.' But this time, Trump broadened the insult to attack entire communities, fusing sexism with xenophobia.

Mexico's first female president gets groped on street

What is startling is how unprotected even the most politically powerful women in a country can be.

Last month, Mexico’s first woman President Claudia Sheinbaum was walking between meetings when a middle-aged man placed his arm around her, touched her chest and tried to kiss her, an attempt that was caught on camera. Sheinbaum pushed him away and her staff intervened. The footage is jarring.

"If this happens to the president, where does that leave all the young women?" Sheinbaum said later, capturing a collective fear and filing a complaint. The incident exposed an uncomfortable truth — sexism and harassment are not deterred by rank.

Italy’s digital hate machine targets Giorgia Meloni

In Italy, the misogyny has moved online — sophisticated, organised and anonymous.

A website known as Phica — a wordplay on Italian slang for vagina — posted doctored images of prominent Italian women, including Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni. The content wasn’t just pornographic, it was political. Its purpose was harassment through humiliation.

After an outcry from female politicians across parties, the site announced its closure, citing 'toxic behaviour' from its own users. That a site like this existed at all — and thrived — reveals how the digital ecosystem is engineered for the dehumanization of women in public life.

When prime ministers get asked ridiculous questions on global stage

If anyone still believes sexism in politics is subtle, they probably missed that viral moment when two prime ministers were asked if they met each other simply because they were 'similar in age.'

At a joint press conference in November 2022, New Zealand’s Jacinda Ardern and Finland’s Sanna Marin were talking about trade, security, global cooperation when a reporter decided to bring up the 'real burning question': "A lot of people are wondering if you are meeting because of similarity in age or because you have a lot of stuff in common."

Ardern responded firmly but politely, "I wonder whether or not anyone ever asked Barack Obama and John Key if they met because they were of similar age. We, of course, have a higher proportion of men in politics, it's reality," Ardern said. "Because two women meet, it's not simply because of their gender."

It proved, once again, that the sexism women face in politics isn’t reserved for rallies, parliaments, or social media mobs. Sometimes it shows up in the most polished rooms, dressed up as 'harmless questions' reminding everyone that no woman, not even a prime minister, is fully spared from being underestimated.

Sexism in Indian politics: From Lalu Prasad's family to the Rajya Sabha

Sexism in politics is often imagined as something overt — a slur shouted, a comment leaked, a troll unleashed online. But more often, it reveals itself in subtler, crueller ways: through silence, favouritism, character assassination, and the casual normalisation of misogyny from men in positions of power. Recent political episodes across party lines show just how deeply embedded this mindset remains.

Take the very public implosion within Lalu Prasad Yadav’s family. At the centre of it is Rohini Acharya — a daughter who once made headlines for donating a kidney to save her father’s life. Years later, she is now speaking out about humiliation, neglect and being treated as expendable within the same family she sacrificed so much for.

"Yesterday, a daughter, a sister, a married woman, a mother was humiliated, filthy abuses were hurled at her, a slipper was raised to hit her. I did not compromise on my self-respect, I did not surrender the truth, and solely because of this, I had to endure this insult... Yesterday, a daughter, out of compulsion, left behind her crying parents and sisters and came away; they tore me away from my maternal home... They left me orphaned," she had said after RJD lost the Bihar elections.

Rohini’s grievance is not merely personal. It exposes a familiar patriarchal script: daughters are expected to give endlessly, silently, while sons inherit power, attention and legitimacy. Lalu Yadav’s perceived preference for his son Tejashwi — politically and personally — has left Rohini feeling erased. The optics were telling. After Rohini’s public walkout, three other daughters of Lalu Yadav quietly left Patna with their children. Their departure came hours after Rohini bitterly advised women to prioritise their in-laws, families and children over their own parents — a line heavy with irony and resignation.

This is sexism not as spectacle, but as structure. A reminder that even in families that built careers on social justice politics, women are still expected to sacrifice without complaint — and punished when they finally speak.

The same pattern plays out, far more crudely, in public political discourse. BJP leader Ramesh Bidhuri’s remarks on Trinamool Congress MP Mahua Moitra are a textbook example. Using a deeply misogynistic slur that loosely translates to 'woman of easy virtue' — Bidhuri didn’t merely attack Moitra as a politician; he attempted to shame her as a woman, invoking 'Indian culture' as justification. The implication was clear: if a woman is accused of wrongdoing, her entire character becomes fair game. Her morality, sexuality, and dignity are dragged into the arena.

“If she can take money to ask questions in Parliament, then there is nothing she wouldn’t do for money,” Bidhuri had said. The message, however, was already delivered. Male politicians accused of corruption are criticised for their actions; women are accused of having no character at all.



Bidhuri’s pattern didn’t stop there. At a rally, he targeted Delhi minister Atishi, mocking her name and questioning her identity. He alleged that Atishi had changed her surname from 'Marlena' to 'Singh', sneering that she had 'changed her father' just as Arvind Kejriwal had allegedly changed political loyalties.

The jibe reduced Atishi’s political work to a crude attack on lineage and legitimacy. What was conveniently ignored is that Atishi dropped her surname years ago, and that 'Marlena' itself had a history — a portmanteau of Marx and Lenin, reflecting her parents’ ideological beliefs. Her parents, Vijay Singh and Tripta Wahi, are respected academics and former Delhi University professors. But nuance rarely survives sexism. A woman’s name, choices and background become weapons to discredit her, rather than points of debate.



Jaya Bachchan, a veteran actor and Samajwadi Party MP, sparked debate in the Rajya Sabha in 2024 by objecting to being addressed with her husband Amitabh’s name during parliamentary proceedings. She protested when then vice-president Jagdeep Dhankhar referred to her as “Jaya Amitabh Bachchan”, saying “only Jaya Bachchan would have sufficed”.

Across these incidents — from a patriarch’s home to Parliament podiums — a pattern emerges. Women in politics are expected to be grateful daughters, silent supporters, morally flawless representatives, and endlessly resilient targets. When they fail to conform, they are shamed, mocked, or erased.

Sexism against women political leaders is not just about individual insults. It is about power — who is allowed to speak, who is believed, and who is told to know their place. And until these patterns are named and challenged, India’s political space will continue to demand sacrifice from women while denying them respect in return.