Inside The Empowering World Of Indian Kitty Parties

"This may sound cheesy but my kitty party girl gang pulled me back into the world and away from a toxic marriage," says Arushi*, a 25-year-old nutritionist based in Leicester. Arushi moved to the UK from Ahmedabad in India at 20 for a master's programme and was quickly wrapped up in a whirlwind romance with a British Indian pharmacist. The couple decided to get married within two years of beginning a relationship but a few months into their marriage she began to notice signs of verbal and physical abuse. As Arushi navigated a deteriorating relationship and an alienating lifestyle, she found comfort in the friendships she developed at her local kitty party. 

For those unfamiliar with Indian culture, a kitty party is an indigenous women’s-only microfinance group that doubles as a social club. All the members of the kitty party come together at least once a month and invest a predetermined sum of money — this could range from £40 to £300 (approx. $70 to $500) depending on the socio-economic background of the women. The participating members’ names are written on pieces of paper and thrown into a bag. At every gathering, a name is picked out and the chosen woman receives the collected funds as well as the responsibility to host the following month’s get-together.

This tradition can be traced back to the early 1950s, a time when most Indian women were restricted to their roles within the home and as a result were financially dependent on their husbands or fathers. The emergence of kitty parties allowed women to build their own savings for personal leisure (and emergencies), and find an emotional outlet outside familial ties. These gatherings are primarily class-based — the women meet each other through their husbands, neighbourhoods, children’s schools and, more recently, at their own places of work. Although the feminist movement has created more spaces for women to work and express themselves today, kitty parties continue to thrive in India and across the UK. 

For Arushi, the kitty fund she won eight months ago allowed her to finally pay the deposit on her own flat and move out of her husband’s home. The support from her kitty is twofold: financial but emotional, too. Their continued affirmations encouraged her to re-enter the working world and develop her own interests, whether that was joining a cycling club or setting up a stall at the farmers' market. Growing up in India, I was surrounded by frivolous stereotypes of kitty parties as places where bored women came together to gossip and cackle. It took some unlearning to understand that this narrative is rooted in patriarchy that finds power in keeping women apart. 

The American writer Roxane Gay says in her 2014 book, Bad Feminist: "Abandon the cultural myth that all female friendships must be bitchy, toxic, or competitive. This myth is like heels and purses – pretty but designed to slow women down." In 2019, Harvard Business Review conducted a study which found that women with strong female inner circles landed executive leadership roles that paid better and held more authority than the roles occupied by women who lacked these support systems. The Indian kitty party practice only highlights this finding. 

To attend a kitty party in the UK, I reached out to Shalini Sharma through a mutual South Asian friend. Shalini, 27, lives in Birmingham and is part of a 22-member kitty party whose monthly deposit is £60 ($105) per person. Previously, Shalini worked as a programme coordinator with a nonprofit but was laid off due to pandemic-related budget cuts. With an interest in Indian fashion and a large South Asian social circle, Shalini saw a business opportunity in importing Kashmiri shawls and hand-embroidered Indian kurtis from her family home in New Delhi. "I did not want to start my business by borrowing money from my husband or parents and my savings were not enough to import an entire collection from India," she says. She eventually used the money from the kitty in January 2022 to begin her slowly growing business. 

Since I’m based in London, Shalini pulled some strings and convinced her kitty group to let me attend the gathering for May online. I am told that this is a big deal; outsiders are rarely allowed to attend as over time these meetings have become intimate safe spaces for the women. New members are initiated only through recommendations from older members. To make the most of a sunny day, this month’s meeting was hosted at Cannon Hill Park by Jasmeet Kaur, a 24-year-old hairstylist. The quiet symbols of Indian culture immediately caught my attention: Jasmeet set the scene with kalamkari-printed picnic blankets and as for food — an essential part of every kitty party — there was aloo bhujia, samosas and dahi bhallas. If it wasn’t for the basket of Walkers crisps and the occasional Caucasian dog-walker in the background, I would have forgotten that the women were in Birmingham and not Chandigarh. 

The kitty group was mostly Hindu and Sikh and spoke a mix of English, Hindi and Punjabi as they excitedly shared stories from the past month. Jyoti went to Lisbon for a holiday, Usha finally found a play home within budget for her toddler and recommended it to Alvira, who had her mother-in-law over and needed "a break from the constant entertaining". Jasmeet interrupted the chatter to hand out tickets for Tambol, a game similar to British bingo which is usually the most popular kitty party activity. "We like experimenting. Last time we played 'who's most likely to' and poker, we even had a theme party a few months back when everyone dressed as their favourite Bollywood characters, but there is something about Tambola, it takes us straight home, you know," she explained to me. 

The women have recently introduced a new segment called the 'ideas exchange' for sharing skills and hacks. Many members are self-employed or just starting off and for them the kitty party becomes a sounding board — their very own Reddit thread, if you will. One woman shared how SEO is helping her increase traffic to her website, another discovered a discounted coupon for foot spas, yet another shared the recipe for shrikhand (an Indian dessert made from strained yoghurt) that she recently inherited from her great aunt. 

Even though I was mostly a quiet observer on Zoom, a mere fly on the wall, the wholesome and empowering energy stayed with me long after the call ended. I returned to my girl group and dropped a quick text: we need to have our own kitty party and no, it is not the same as meeting for drinks every few weeks. The experience helped me understand how terribly misleading the phrase 'money and friendship should never mix' is. As Angana Trehan, 63, tells me: "By keeping money out of the conversation, we are all battling alone. I have been in the same kitty in Leeds for 40 years and we have all grown – and grown up – together. It is the only way forward."