Why women are saying no to “mankeeping”

When Stanford psychologist Angelica Puzio Ferrara introduced the term “mankeeping” earlier this year, the concept landed with a jolt of recognition among women across cultures. Mankeeping, she explained, is the unpaid emotional labour many straight women shoulder in relationships—soothing their partners, anticipating moods, and compensating for men’s lack of emotionally intimate friendships. In India, where marriage remains a dominant cultural expectation, the phenomenon feels particularly acute.

“Early in dating, it’s easy to overlook emotional gaps because everything feels fresh and exciting,” says Mansi Kothari, a psychologist and mental well-being expert. “But as relationships deepen, women often slip into the role of caretaker—monitoring how he’s feeling, calming him down, or smoothing over conflicts. It can start to feel like you’re carrying the emotional load for both people.”

Rasshi Gurnani, also a psychologist, echoes this distinction. “In early-stage dating, mankeeping shows up subtly—planning dates, initiating emotional conversations, or checking in on moods. Women often interpret this as nurturing. But in long-term relationships, the pattern hardens. Women become the conflict managers, the emotional regulators, the social coordinators. What emerges is a ‘cognitive load imbalance,’ where one partner is constantly expending psychological resources while the other simply receives. Over time, this imbalance can lead to burnout and withdrawal.”

The male friendship paradox

Part of the problem lies not only within romantic dynamics but within male friendships themselves. “In India, boys grow up with messages like, ‘real men don’t cry’ or ‘man up,’” Kothari notes. “So men learn to avoid vulnerability with their peers. Even when male friendships appear strong, most of the connection stays on the surface—jokes, fun, camaraderie. Talking about sadness, fear, or insecurity often feels risky.”

Varinderr Manchanda, a life and relationship coach, describes it as a cultural paradox. “Male friendships are celebrated for their loyalty, but vulnerability rarely enters the room,” he says. “Men laugh together, drink together, travel together, but they don’t share their inner struggles. That leaves women stepping in as the sole emotional anchor. A partner becomes not just a companion, but a confidante, therapist, and stabiliser rolled into one. Over time, that dependence can feel less like intimacy and more like a burden.”

Gurnani traces this dynamic to deeper cultural conditioning. “Patriarchal scripts such as mard ko dard nahi hota idealise emotional restraint,” she says. “Men may have a wide circle of friends but struggle with emotionally reciprocal communication. Their friendships are built around activities, not affective disclosure. The deprivation this creates is then offloaded onto romantic partners, who are expected to compensate.”

The toll on women

For women, the consequences are far from abstract. “When women constantly hold this role, they start to lose themselves,” Manchanda says. “They describe it as feeling ‘drained but guilty’, drained because they’re carrying their partner’s emotional world, and guilty because they feel selfish for wanting their own needs met.”

The toll is not just relational but psychological, Gurnani emphasises. “When women are positioned as the sole providers of emotional labour, it creates role strain—chronic stress, compassion fatigue, even depressive symptoms. Many internalise the belief that they are responsible for their partner’s emotional regulation, which leads to emotional over-functioning and neglect of their own care. Intimacy then collapses into resentment.”

That imbalance, she notes, is driving more women to step back from dating altogether. “When reciprocity and balance erode, the cost of intimacy begins to outweigh its rewards.”

Changing the equation

Both Kothari and Manchanda emphasise that the solution cannot rest solely with women. “It’s not about women learning to manage better,” Kothari says. “It’s about redistributing responsibility.”

Her advice is pragmatic:

Start small: Couples can set aside time for regular check-ins that go beyond “how was your day” to what’s happening emotionally.

Lead with vulnerability: Sharing your own struggles can create safety for your partner to open up.

Be precise: Naming emotions clearly: “I felt anxious today” rather than “work was bad”—helps build emotional literacy.

Learn together: Books, workshops, or counselling can help couples develop a shared language around feelings.

Celebrate progress: Even small steps toward openness deserve recognition.

Gurnani agrees but adds that the process should be framed as collaboration, not transaction. “Couples can practice reflective listening, use ‘I’ statements, and set boundaries when one partner feels depleted. What matters is creating shared emotional accountability, where both partners recognise that intimacy is sustained by mutual effort, not one-sided caretaking.”

Still, experts caution, change cannot be confined to couples alone. “It has to happen both in peer dynamics and in romantic relationships,” Kothari says. “If men learn to share emotions more openly with friends, the load on their partners decreases. And when couples talk honestly about fairness in emotional labour, relationships become healthier.”

Rethinking masculinity from the start

That, however, requires cultural rewiring that begins far earlier. “From the lens of a psychologist, it’s about planting seeds early,” Kothari says. “Parents should model vulnerability, teachers should prioritise emotional intelligence alongside academics, and boys should be praised for kindness and openness, not just toughness. When boys grow up seeing that emotions are normal, they carry that comfort into friendships and partnerships.”

Manchanda agrees. “The absence of emotional literacy is both cultural and developmental,” he says. “Most boys are never given the tools to name or regulate their feelings. Until families, schools, and peer groups start normalising vulnerability, men will keep leaning too heavily on their partners for support.”

Gurnani calls it a two-front task. “Peer dynamics and romantic expectations must shift together,” she says. “Without emotionally nourishing friendships, men will remain over-reliant on their partners. And without renegotiated expectations in relationships, women will continue to shoulder the hidden costs of intimacy.”

A shifting future

If emotional inequity continues unaddressed, experts warn of long-term consequences for the institution of marriage itself, particularly in societies like India where marriage has long been seen as a near inevitability.

“More women are prioritising self-love, growth, and stability over conforming to expectations,” Manchanda adds. “They are recognising their worth and stepping away from relationships that demand one-sided emotional labour. Meanwhile, men who resist emotional growth may find it harder to sustain meaningful partnerships. The future of dating and marriage will depend on how willing men are to embrace vulnerability and balance.”

In other words, the future of love may hinge on whether men can learn what many women have long known: intimacy is not built on caretaking, but on shared responsibility.

Lead image: Netflix 

Also read: Why every woman needs a first date uniform in her wardrobe

Also read: Tired of the scroll? Let’s fix your "digital fatigue"