We raise daughters to dream big until those dreams grow louder than the voice of the man in the house. And when that happens, they get punished. Or worse, they get killed. The Radhika Yadav murder case is proof.

Radhika Yadav, 25, wasn’t just a tennis player. She was a rising star from Gurugram, Haryana, who broke out of the mould, represented her state, made it to international courts, and went on to coach young children. But on July 10, 2025, she was gunned down in cold blood by her own father. Why? Because people around him joked that he was living off his daughter’s income and she posted photos and reels on Instagram. She became a woman with a voice. And in the twisted world of fragile masculinity, that’s the ultimate sin.

“This situation kept bothering me as it hurt my dignity. I was very troubled and stressed. Because of this tension, I took out my licensed revolver, and when my daughter Radhika was cooking in the kitchen, I shot her three times from behind, hitting her waist. I have killed my daughter,” Radhika’s father, Deepak, told the police.

Instead of shutting down the trolls with pride or simply ignoring them, Radhika’s father chose to kill his own daughter. A daughter who was an example for many. This tells us how deep misogyny runs. When someone decides to kill their daughter so that they can fit in the framework of “man enough” that society has built, you know there’s no safe place for you as a woman.

Beti bachao, beti padhao but only till she stays in line.

Divided by borders, united in misogyny

Meanwhile, in Pakistan, another woman vanished, but without the bang of a gunshot. Humaira Asghar, an actor and model, was found nine months after her death. And her father refused to take her body. Why? Because she moved away from her family and made a name for herself.

The message is loud and clear: be a daughter who obeys, or be a daughter who disappears. And more often than not, it’s not strangers behind the violence, it’s fathers, brothers, uncles, husbands. We’ve had countless movies about this. Dangal, Thappad, Gul Makai, Verna. Social campaigns that go viral. Slogans on buses. Hashtags that trend for a week. But here’s the truth: a woman’s survival depends on the egos of the men in her family. Try to be independent, outspoken, and ambitious in defiance of that ego and see the guns come out.

Freedom can’t have conditions

Just a few years ago, an undergrad student, Ayushi Chaudhary, was allegedly murdered by her parents because she reportedly wanted to marry a man of another caste. They provided her education, gave her freedom to choose a career she wanted, but drew a line when it came to choosing a partner. How much freedom is too much freedom? Empowerment and freedom can’t be contractual. We can’t tell our daughters they are free, but only to the point that’s comfortable for us.

Radhika wasn’t even a rebel. She wasn’t some radical revolutionary. She was a woman doing her job, which her father was proud of, until it made him uncomfortable. And that’s the most terrifying part. We cannot keep pretending this is about rogue incidents or isolated men. This is a pattern. A cultural wound dressed up in family pride. Radhika’s father didn’t snap. He acted out a script many know by heart, where a daughter’s worth begins and ends with male approval. So, let’s call this what it is: a pure hatred of women masquerading as honour.

You can write Beti Bachao on every wall in the country. You can light a thousand candles at vigils. But until men realise that their ego isn’t worth more than a woman’s life, nothing changes.

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Related: The Ally Paradox: How “Good” Men Use Feminism As A Disguise