Against a backdrop of sexism, stereotypes and low pay, these Indian women are forging their careers in tourism

Sitting in the back of a rickshaw, I hold on as my driver navigates between motorbikes and pedestrians in Jaipur’s busy streets. The ride is surprisingly calm, but city life passes by in a blur: The terracotta façade of Hawa Mahal glowing in the sun, marigold garlands strung above market stalls, the sweet scent of chai bubbling in a pot, rainbow powders piled high in preparation for Holi festival.

As we weave our way, men stare for so long it makes me uncomfortable. A young girl points to the rickshaw, her mouth hanging open. See, women don’t typically drive rickshaws in India. But at the helm of mine is Renu Sharma, driver and chairwoman of Pink City Rickshaw Company, a women-led non-profit that employs more than 30 women to drive the pink vehicles. She joined the company 10 years ago, leading over 1,300 tours and inspiring other women to follow in her footsteps. Many of the women have gone on to purchase their own rickshaws and now run their own businesses.

India’s tourism industry employs millions, and women account for nearly half of that workforce. But traditionally, those roles have been concentrated in lower-paid or behind-the-scenes jobs like housekeeping, handicrafts, and food preparation. The visible jobs—like guiding tourists, leading expeditions, and managing operations—have largely belonged to men. But a new generation of women, including Renu, is changing that.

My 10-day tour—a shortened version of Intrepid’s India women’s expedition—is led by Anjali Singh, who joined Intrepid in 2016, when it was unusual to see female tour guides. Over the course of the trip, she switches seamlessly between logistics manager, cultural translator, and navigator, all the while fielding our endless questions about everything from what we were eating to local customs and gender norms.

As of 2025, India ranked in the bottom 12 percent in the World Economic Forum’s Global Gender Gap Report. Part of the reason is that the country has historically been fraught with systemic sexism. Anjali tells me that it’s illegal for women to check the sex of the baby while pregnant—a law meant to curb sex-specific abortions. And when women get married, they’re often expected to move into their husband’s family home and prioritize domestic work over paid jobs.

“It’s empowering to know I can support myself while doing something I’m passionate about. I hope more women take up this path and show that tourism is not just a job, but a way to grow, learn, and lead your own journey.”

- Anjali Singh, tour guide

In the case of widowhood, it’s rare for women to remarry because they face discrimination, while men experience far fewer barriers to start over. So for some women entering tourism roles, this is the first time they’re making their own money, whether to supplement a spouse’s income or support themselves entirely.

“Women guides, homestay hosts, and entrepreneurs across India are not only bringing the country’s stories to life for travelers, they’re also transforming their communities, strengthening local economies, and reimagining the future of the sector,” Sara King, general manager of impact at Intrepid Travel, tells me.

Jobs in tourism can also give women newfound autonomy in household decision-making, as well as higher social status. Being a tour leader has been life-changing for Anjali. “I love sharing stories, connecting travelers with local communities, and seeing people experience India through my eyes,” she says, adding that the role has given her financial independence and confidence. “It’s empowering to know I can support myself while doing something I’m passionate about. I hope more women take up this path and show that tourism is not just a job, but a way to grow, learn, and lead your own journey.”

Intrepid’s India women’s expedition not only serves as a comfortable group for female travelers to meet, but highlights the women carving their own paths in the workforce. In Agra, we visit the home of Aarti Agarwal to learn about the history of the sari. During peak season, she hosts up to three groups a week as part of Intrepid’s women’s expeditions.

Agarwal welcomes us into her multi-generational house with a pot of chai on the stove and leads us through the rooms, pointing out her son’s artwork and the kids’ play quarters along the way. Eventually we gather in a bedroom, where she opens a neatly folded stack of brightly colored saris she has modified to make the famously tricky garment easier to wear. One by one, she helps us wrap the long swaths of fabric, adjusting and tucking until the pleats fall just right.

Another stop is Sunder Rang, a female artisan collective in the small village of Chandelao, a five-hour drive from Jaipur. Here, the women sit in the shade embroidering intricate patterns on colorful fabrics or braiding bracelets, earning a fair daily wage as well as 60 percent of each sale—the rest goes to developing and expanding the program, including training and mentoring young girls. One of the artists walks me around the shop, pointing out the hand-stitched details on colorful bags she’d spent hours finishing. I leave with a navy blue and burgundy fabric bird ornament, small enough to tuck into my carry-on.

This is more than just a job for many of these women. These roles offer them an opportunity to connect and form friendships outside of their homes—something that has historically been far more common for men than women. “Family issues are usually brushed under the carpet. But when they come here, it’s outside of their family and they’re interacting with people from different communities,” says Kamlesh Ratnu, a fashion designer who leads the team of artisans at Sunder Rang. “All of them have found close friends in one another, and they can share without the fear of being judged or of their family issues being turned into gossip. That’s one of the most empowering things you can get when you work at a place like Sunder Rang.”

One night, Anjali takes our group to have dinner at a family’s home in a residential area of Jaipur where Manju and her daughter-in law, Geetanjali, earn income from hosting and cooking for travelers. The duo serve us trays of fresh chai and set up a small table of pots, steam rising in the small outdoor terrace, so we can watch them fry up pakora and bhindi (okra). Right before we sit down to eat, it’s time to make chapati, a traditional Indian flatbread. Geetanjali asks if we’d like to try rolling the dough, demonstrating how to shape it into a neat circle with quick movements. I roll out my own uneven round and then carefully flop it onto the heated pan.

Sitting under the open sky, in a circle on folding chairs at dinner with Manju and Geetanjali, Anjali shares her gratitude for her work. “In this country, we’ve been taught from a very small age that whatever you’re getting on your plate, you’re getting more than some other people—so be grateful for that,” she says. “We grew up with that mentality, so it’s just in every cell of the body. Even during COVID, not even for a second, did I think ‘Oh I wish I had been doing something else.’ I’ve always been very thankful.”

Expanding women’s presence in public-facing tourism roles benefits the larger economy, too; research from UN Women shows that destinations where women hold visible positions are perceived more highly by travelers.

Despite the benefits, many women still face obstacles entering the workforce. “For women, it’s still an uphill battle,” Anjali tells us. Low pay, safety concerns, job insecurity, and gender stereotypes continue to impact the industry, influencing everything from who gets hired to what jobs women feel comfortable pursuing. Even women in leadership roles face discrimination and poor treatment from clients or industry partners.

When Pink City first began recruiting drivers, the founders posted a Facebook ad and received few responses. Even Renu’s family initially resisted her decision to work in tourism, she had told us during our tour. “Men on the streets regularly harass the drivers, saying things like “go back home and do the housework,” she told our group in Hindi, as translated by Anjali. “Our job is to give a good service, and this is what I like to do. We are going to continue. It doesn’t matter what they are going to say.”

Despite these challenges, India’s tourism industry is projected to add roughly 1.5 million jobs for women by 2036. Expanding women’s presence in public-facing tourism roles benefits the larger economy, too; research from UN Women shows that destinations where women hold visible positions are perceived more highly by travelers.

This rings true for me; The big cities of Rajasthan, like Jaipur and Delhi, are sometimes perceived as unsafe for solo women travelers. Anjali makes me feel comfortable walking through the cities. She holds her head high and leads our group through Jaipur’s maze of market stalls, setting firm boundaries with men who, out of curiosity, try to photograph us. In a city overflowing with color, noise, and motion, she’s calm and assured. I can’t help but wonder what the young girls watching might take away from seeing her lead.

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The writer’s trip was hosted by Intrepid Travel on their 13-day India: Women’s Expedition, an all-women group with a local female leader exploring the cities, villages and desert of Rajasthan.

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