The Land Resists

Jasmeh Kaur
Apr 24
4 min read

The Earth has long been revered as a mother in cultures and traditions across the globe. This feminised vision, rooted in abundance and care, often disguises itself as a justification for the exploitation of its resources, much like the societal positioning of women. The structural parallels between the treatment of the Earth and the treatment of women share an experience of exploitation, control, and commodification. The nurturers and care-givers are thus subjected to extraction, control and regulation, stripping them of their resources. This article examines the exploitation of both the Earth and women, while highlighting their resistance, using ideas from feminist political ecology.

Biting the hand that feeds

As Vandana Shiva has argued, women’s bodies and the Earth have both been perceived as “terra nullius”- empty, open, and ripe for colonial and capitalist conquest (Shiva, 1989). In the context of the environment, exploitation refers to the violent and often non-consensual nature with which resources are extracted, often in the name of economic development. The desire and greed for material progress have drained the earth of its reserves, ones that it granted us with love and abundance. Neoliberal globalisation has fueled the rise of extractivist economies, which have consequently intensified land seizures, polluted ecosystems, and triggered forced displacement (Jebli et al., 2021). According to the World Meteorological Organisation, 2024 became the hottest year ever recorded, with carbon dioxide concentrations peaking at 420 ppm, the highest in 800,000 years (Reuters, 2025).

Similarly, women have been considered as innate caretakers and givers, taking their labour for granted. Women's unpaid care work is often framed as “natural” and forms the backbone of capitalist economies, yet remains uncompensated and unrecognised (Merchant, 1980; Shiva, 1988). Domestic work, caregiving, and emotional labour are rarely acknowledged within traditional economic frameworks.

In "Feminist Political Ecology," Rebecca Elmhirst (2015) studies ecofeminism, highlighting how the exploitation of natural resources is closely tied to gendered power relations. Women, especially in rural and indigenous communities, are the ones primarily involved in managing resources but are often neglected in decision-making processes. While women manage resources like water, land, and forests, their labour remains undervalued and ignored. Eco-feminism thus highlights how environmental exploitation and gender inequality are interconnected.

Both women and the Earth have resisted this control and domination in their own capacities. Environmental movements have often had women activists at the forefront, advocating for the protection and preservation of the resources, as well as the communities dependent on them. In India, this resistance has been exemplified through movements such as the Chipko Movement, where women clung to trees to prevent deforestation. Their resistance also advocated for autonomy relating to resource management in their community. Similarly, the Narmada Bachao Andolan challenged the displacement caused by large dam projects, with women like Medha Patkar leading protests and highlighting the consequences of such inconsiderate development plans. These struggles resonate globally. In Latin America, Africa, and North America, women, especially indigenous women, lead similar protests against deforestation, mining, and water privatisation. Their resistance is a form of ecofeminist praxis which is rooted in everyday life, and still deeply political.

While these activists have contributed to the cause commendably, the earth rumbles with its own rebellion as well. It is no longer quietly bearing the weight of extraction. Through floods, droughts, wildfires, melting glaciers, and rising sea levels, the planet is pushing back. These are not mere “natural disasters” but consequences of systemic exploitation and coercion. They demonstrate the Earth’s refusal to comply with capitalist logics of endless growth. The climate crisis, in this light, is a form of ecological resistance.

Regeneration and Resistance

In the face of this resistance, from bodies and from land, there is a deeper ethic: the ethic of planetary care. This care is not the corporate-sponsored, sanitised "sustainability," but a political, emotional, and cultural act of stewardship based on reciprocity. It opposes the commodification of labour and land, and instead demands relation, the type long practised by indigenous communities, where land is not just possessed but respected. As ecofeminist critics argue, the same hands that are exploited for care work are also reclaiming care as a radical form of power (Phillips, 2016; Shiva, 1989). This is most clearly visible among marginalised populations, for whom climate grief and eco-anxiety are not hypothetical sentiments, but instances of dispossession and devastation.

Within this sorrow, though, are rituals of remembering, such as mourning lost rivers, smouldering forests, vanishing seasons, and within these rituals, there is resilience. These collective acts of mourning become acts of resistance, creating emotional solidarities that resist isolation and disconnection. Planetary care, in this regard, is a living refusal to unplug from the earth. It is a summons to feel deeply, to remember on purpose, and to care together, not only for the Earth, but through it. As we struggle against the effects of environmental deterioration and social inequality, it is necessary that we acknowledge that care in all its shapes and forms is not merely an act of nurturing. It is an act of resistance, of rebirth, and ultimately of hope.