Lydia G. Jose
On a quiet Kerala morning in 2017, a tremor was felt—not underfoot, but across the silver screens of Malayalam cinema. A leading female actor was kidnapped and assaulted, and the industry’s initial silence was deafening. The walls of vanity vans and film sets, long complicit in their silence, had harboured too many secrets for too long. But this time, something shifted.
From that rupture emerged a collective roar. Few women—actors, technicians, scriptwriters—came together, not with a manifesto, but with a widely shared pain and sense of responsibility for the future. They called themselves the Women in Cinema Collective (WCC), and they were about to rewrite more than just scripts.
Beginnings: A Whisper Turns into a Wave
WCC was not born in conference halls or boardrooms. It was born in green rooms, in years of aggression against casting couches, in being denied basic facilities. Women who had suffered years of casual sexism, veiled threats, and open hostility decided that it was time to put an end to this atrocity. The Malayalam film industry, known for its artistic finesse, hid a troubling underbelly of gendered power play.
The formation of WCC wasn’t greeted with celebration. It was met with resistance, eye-rolls, and even professional backlash. But for the women involved, this was not a PR stunt—it was survival.
A Collective’s Journey: Between Screens and Courtrooms
WCC did not just speak up—they showed up.
They approached the Kerala High Court, demanding the enforcement of workplace safety laws within the entertainment industry, especially the POSH Act of 2013. They questioned the relevance of internal committees that had no women. They challenged AMMA, the powerful Association of Malayalam Movie Artists, and its reluctance to stand with survivors.
WCC demanded the industry to do what it does best—reflect reality. But this time, it was not fiction. It was the lived truth.
They organised panel discussions. They spoke at universities. They went to the press. At times, they just listened—to young makeup artists and costume designers who finally felt seen.
The Backlash: Fame Can Be a Cage
It was not easy.
Several WCC members lost out on film roles. They were branded as troublemakers. The same media that once cheered them on for their performances now questioned their motives. Friends turned distant. Directors became cold.
But they endured. Because something larger was at stake.
The Echo Chamber Grows Louder
Mainstream media could not ignore them for long.
The Hindu covered their legal victories. The Week published interviews with WCC members who spoke candidly about being blacklisted. BBC and Al Jazeera featured their work in global segments about gender movements in South Asia. Indian Express editorialised WCC’s courage as “the rare feminist front in Indian cinema that didn’t fade with the news cycle.”
Public perception began to shift. Audiences—especially women—started asking questions. Who decides what is acceptable behaviour on a film set? Why aren’t more women behind the camera? What happens when a woman says no?
Learning from the World, Leading at Home
WCC was not just looking inward. They have had pioneers from other countries like the TIME’S UP in Hollywood and Women in Film (WIF). WCC had community, grit, and a deep understanding of what it meant to resist within a localised cultural framework.
Through this global lens, WCC found both validation and strategy.
Why It Matters
As this is not just about movies.
It’s about how power is distributed and how silence is enforced. It’s about who gets to dream, and who is forced to wake up early from that dream. It’s about every young girl on a film set and otherwise who now knows there’s someone to call if something goes wrong.
WCC did not just fight gender-based violence in cinema—they redefined what solidarity could look like in a male-dominated ecosystem. Their journey can be a blueprint for every woman-led collective that refuses to back down.
The Story Continues
We owe it to movements like WCC to document, raise our voices, introspect and amplify as researchers, activists and viewers. This isn’t a story that ends with one collective—it’s a story that evolves into many more.
The fight against gender-based violence doesn’t need heroes. It needs witnesses. It needs allies. And sometimes, it just needs someone to listen and say: “We believe you.”
My study on WCC seeks to document and evaluate their strategies and effectiveness—not just as an activist model within cinema, but as a replicable framework for combating GBV in other male-dominated sectors. From unionising to advocacy, WCC’s journey underscores the importance of solidarity, resilience, and feminist foresight.
In a world increasingly polarised by power hierarchies, WCC reminds us that real change begins when communities refuse to remain silent.
About the contributor: Lydia G. Jose is a fellow at EGBVF Ending Gender-based Violence Fellowship at IMPRI and is an Assistant Professor, Department of Communication at IILM University, Gurugram.
Disclaimer: All views expressed in the article belong solely to the author and not necessarily to the organisation.
Read more at IMPRI:
Margins to Mainstream: Women Redefining Indian Governance
“Ma’am, Why Are You So Dressed Up Today?”: Unmasking Everyday Harassment in Academia
Acknowledgment: This article was posted by Bhaktiba Jadeja, visiting researcher and assistant editor at IMPRI.
