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In a society where women earn less for the same work, the effect of the pink tax can be very harmful. This results not only in women spending more on daily use products but also results in them saving less for the future.
It is often that women are called ‘high maintenance’, a derogatory term used for shallow women, who spend a little too much money to fulfil their material wants. Recently, one of my friends mentioned to me that most women are high maintenance without even realizing it. At the time, I obviously protested loudly but later I introspected a little.
I started to compare some of my expenses and purchases with that of my husband. What I found was surprising. I found that my deodorant, moisturizer, face wash, body wash, hair oil, and shampoo all cost double the amount he did. The contents of most of these products were identical, yet the products marketed towards women cost more for no reason whatsoever.
For instance, my pink women’s razor costs almost double the amount a men’s razor does. What latent patented technology could possibly have contributed to this high price? My salon expenses were also exorbitant as compared to his. For the same hair cut/hair trim which probably takes similar skill and time, I was charged three times that of my husband.
At the time I was unaware of this phenomenon, but a little research showed that there is actually a term for this sort of discriminatory pricing. This higher invisible price of goods and services targeted towards women consumers is a ‘Pink Tax’, which widely exists.
The pink tax is justified by the manufacturers/producers as women are considered more difficult to please and require aesthetically appealing and attractive packaging and marketing. Also, women are willing to spend more on their appearance and grooming, hence they do not mind higher costs on certain products and services. Furthermore, women are less price elastic and higher pricing does not dissuade loyal consumers easily to shift brand loyalty.
So, next time you pick up the exorbitantly priced pink product, think again. Be the conscious consumer and consider similar unisex or male-oriented products instead, or consider switching to an entirely different brand that refrains from charging the pink tax.
Image source: An image from Pexels
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I huffed, puffed and panted up the hill, taking many rest breaks along the way. My calf muscles pained, my heart protested, and my breathing became heavy at one stage.
“Let’s turn back,” my husband remarked. We stood at the foot of Shravanbelagola – one of the most revered Jain pilgrimage centres. “We will not climb the hill,” he continued.
My husband and I were vacationing in Karnataka. It was the month of May, and even at the early hour of 8 am in the morning, the sun scorched our backs. After visiting Bangalore and Mysore, we had made a planned stop at this holy site in the Southern part of the state en route to Hosur. Even while planning our vacation, my husband was very excited at the prospect of visiting this place and the 18 m high statue of Lord Gometeshwara, considered one of the world’s tallest free-standing monolithic statues.
What we hadn’t bargained for was there would be 1001 granite steps that needed to be climbed to have a close-up view of this colossal magic three thousand feet above sea level on a hilltop. It would be an understatement to term it as an arduous climb.
Every daughter, no matter how old, yearns to come home to her parents' place - ‘Home’ to us is where we were brought up with great care till marriage served us an eviction notice.
Every year Dugga comes home with her children and stays with her parents for ten days. These ten days are filled with fun and festivity. On the tenth day, everyone gathers to feed her sweets and bids her a teary-eyed adieu. ‘Dugga’ is no one but our Goddess Durga whose annual trip to Earth is scheduled in Autumn. She might be a Goddess to all. But to us, she is the next-door girl who returns home to stay with her parents.
When I was a child, I would cry on the day of Dashami (immersion) and ask Ma, “Why can’t she come again?” My mother would always smile back.
I mouthed the same dialogue as a 23-year-old, who was home for Durga Puja. This time, my mother graced me with a reply. “Durga is fortunate to come home at least once. But many have never been home after marriage.”
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