Whenever a woman is on one side of a political clash, gendered language and personal character assassination inevitably show up in the discourse. Even women from prominent political families are no longer spared.
Published Sep 07, 2025 | 9:40 PM ⚊ Updated Sep 07, 2025 | 9:40 PM
K Kavitha. (X)
Synopsis: In the public eye, a woman’s entry into politics starts with a few minus points. Taking even a first step into politics without any inheritance is almost impossible. Even when there is inheritance, they must possess extra capabilities if there are male heirs. Even when there was no controversy, public opinion about Kavitha was not very positive. There is a view that her presence increases the “family-party” stamp on the BRS.
A day after Kalvakuntla Kavitha was suspended from the Bharat Rashtra Samithi (BRS), Andhra Jyothy newspaper carried the story with an eye-catching banner headline: “Told to leave the parental home.”
That headline, thick with cultural and political undertones, may not fully capture all the developments centred around Kavitha, but up to that point it was an emotionally dignified headline.
We often see even the mainstream media compromising on refinement for the sake of wit. In this context, journalists deserve appreciation for restraining themselves from using a crude line from an old film song—“Driven out of her parental home”—as a headline.
After the suspension and resignation came the venom—within the BRS’s political army, in social media commentary and trolling, and in the extreme rhetoric of politically mobilised YouTuber-journalists.
Whenever a woman is on one side of a political clash, gendered language and personal character assassination inevitably show up in the discourse. Even women from prominent political families are no longer spared.
It is not only political partisans; society at large has not developed the habit of seeing women as serious players in politics. If she is the sole heir, that is one situation; if she is a woman competing with a male heir, the way she is treated is another.
Kavitha worked in a party and criticised aspects she did not like; the party leader suspended her. That is the reality that ought to be seen. But Kavitha is K Chandrashekar Rao’s (KCR) daughter. His house is her parental home; KCR’s party is her political parental home—nothing more.
She made allegations against those exercising authority in that “parental home.” Then the father told her to “get out”—society grasped this family nuance. Seeing it as only her natal home also carries the notion that her inheritance rights are limited.
Personally and politically, why did KCR’s family or party become her “parental home”? Because in KCR’s party it is one, two, three, four, five… all primary family members and extended family members.
Even if she felt she was not getting a fair share in the family, or an appropriate position in the party, the people she holds responsible are the same—in the party and in the family. This is the situation that arises when the family itself is the party.
Kavitha has stated on many occasions that a patriarchal mindset lies behind KCR’s discrimination against her. Perhaps, to lift herself out of that sense of victimhood and boost her self-confidence, she asked herself: why shouldn’t I aspire to be Chief Minister?
She wants to spend ten to fifteen years playing a major role in Telangana politics, thereby fulfilling her ambition. For that, since the launching pad is the party she has been in until now, she stirred up a commotion with her criticisms of it.
While respecting KCR, she tore into those around him—later naming them clearly. Appealing to her father and brother to save the party, she left the party. Will the BRS, already struggling with many problems, take those allegations into account even after sending Kavitha away?
Will the party ranks, who already have complaints against former MP Joginapally Santhosh Kumar, muster the courage to speak before the supremo? Will the power struggle, currently simmering between KT Rama Rao (KTR) and T Harish Rao, spill into the open and intensify?
Surprisingly, Kavitha too spoke as if treating the family and the party as indistinguishable. She could not address the party leader in any way other than “Nanna” (Father); she spoke purely as “KCR’s daughter.” Her latest narrative is that her father’s sister’s son (a maternal cousin in Telugu usage) and her paternal aunt’s son are conspiring against her father and her brother.
From the confidential letter she wrote after the party’s silver-jubilee inaugural meeting to the press conference where she announced her resignation, the underlying thread might be the same, but there were hesitations and adjustments along the way.
She began by faulting the party’s political stance in the internal letter, and later alleged that there were “demons” around KCR. Among those demons, Santosh Kumar—KCR’s right-hand man—is named explicitly.
Of KTR there is only implied criticism. Harish Rao does not seem to have been a major target.
In the public eye, a woman’s entry into politics starts with a few minus points. Taking even a first step into politics without any inheritance is almost impossible. Even when there is inheritance, they must possess extra capabilities if there are male heirs.
Even when there was no controversy, public opinion about Kavitha was not very positive. There is a view that her presence increases the “family-party” stamp on the BRS.
When people hear about her way of dealing with matters or about financial issues, they judge her harshly, whereas the same issues related to male heirs are taken lightly, as if natural. Likewise, even positive qualities are not viewed on an equal footing.
If equal opportunity is not given, how can equal results be expected? KCR’s approach also contributed to the opinion that Kavitha is fit only for supporting or non-central roles. He is not opposed to making his party a family party, but there is no entry for women. In his view, daughters are to be doted on, but not worthy of coronations.
Therefore, KTR’s arrival itself became an entry into mainstream politics, while Kavitha had to choose the cultural front with the “Bathukamma” slogan, and later work in the sphere assigned to her—the Singareni workers’ unions.
There is also an assessment that she could not make proper use of the Delhi opportunity, and that her manner of functioning caused her second defeat in the Lok Sabha elections from Nizamabad. This apart, others hold that if KCR and the party had provided proper support, she would not have lost.
One might think Kavitha has, from the outset, felt she was being slighted. She might have considered being satisfied even with the fourth position, but as Santosh Kumar’s prominence grew and her own place moved further down, her dissatisfaction intensified.
Be that as it may, what influence will Kavitha have outside the party? Can she build up her strength? If she forms her own party, what policies will it have? Amid which equations does she envision her existence and growth?
Some are asserting firmly that she lacks visibility and will remain anonymous. Some criticise that her actions have only nuisance value. Very few are ready to consider her a major political leader.
Some speak with condescension; some make predictions based on her political behaviour and leadership capacity so far; and some in the BRS, angry that she has caused so much damage to their party, declare that she is surely headed for ruin.
On the other hand, none of them agrees that Kavitha has the power to exert any significant influence—yet they troll her mercilessly, crossing the limits of decency.
Thus far, if we impartially assess the twenty years of party and public life Kavitha speaks of, she has been a good organiser and influential in some areas. Like her father and her brother, she is a fluent, effective speaker in three languages.
But it is unclear how far she will stand as a leader on the main political stage. In some matters, she has acquired a bad name, and there is an opinion that the liquor scam damaged both her and the party. Repairing her image is her primary task ahead.
Based on the current image, she cannot move forward. How carefully and with how much foresight she crafts her programme, how much restraint she shows in executing it without succumbing to haste or temptations—these factors will determine her future.
Not only that, she also needs the ability to identify her place and opportunities amid the broader political situation. She must weigh how much opposition will persist from her “natal-home” party, and to what extent external forces will allow her growth.
Her future portrait will take shape according to her shrewdness in deciding whom to align with and whom to oppose, when and how—and according to her capacity to gather a wide base of followers.
Whether she has a future or not is, for now, a matter for her alone. But she has a one-hundred-percent right to want to rise in Telangana politics, to plan accordingly, to found a party or to join another.
Even though it is not a public-centric matter, she also has a right to demand an equal share from KCR’s family. The countless reasons advanced by those arguing that she lacks merit or eligibility do not hold.
Kavitha has been saying that her quarrel with the BRS is essentially a fight within her family—between her and her cousins. Revanth Reddy said it is all a matter of the distribution of spoils. The ongoing conversation is strongly shaped by that opinion. A quarrel of this sort, taken as a whole, offers ordinary people entertainment more than political substance.
Somewhere, one must fold public interests into one’s own interests and seek the people’s support. If the society that fought for Telangana comes to see Kavitha—like themselves—as a victim of KCR and embraces her, then they can fight together.
Those who think along democratic lines want inclusive participation in the party and in governance—they had expected that from the BRS. Kavitha’s episode shows that even within the family, equitable justice did not happen.
Telangana society, however, needs another pro-Telangana regional party with better internal democracy—one that aims to fulfil the ideals and aspirations of the Telangana movement through people’s participatory governance.
If someone takes up such a responsibility—or at least pretends to—the people will support them. Short of that, there is no political vacuum in Telangana at present.
(Edited by Dese Gowda)
