Indian PR is mostly women. So why are men still at the top?
Women make up around three-quarters of the PR and communications workforce in Asia-Pacific. Look at the top of most firms, though, and the picture changes. A new study of Indian PR asks a different question from the usual one. Not why more women don't reach the top, but what it takes for the ones who do.
The paper, Majority without authority: Discursive power and women's leadership in Indian public relations, was published in Public Relations Review in September 2026. It is by Medha Bakhshi of IIM Lucknow and Papiya De of NMIMS School of Business Management, Mumbai, a former business journalist.
The authors interviewed 24 senior women, each with at least 15 years in PR and corporate communications. They include founders, CEOs, agency partners and in-house heads across FMCG, BFSI, automotive, manufacturing, pharma and the social sector, in cities from Mumbai and Delhi to Bengaluru, Pune and Mangalore. All are anonymised. The authors are upfront that this is a privileged group: urban, English-speaking, with domestic help and children in private schools.
Four things that hold women back
Being cast as the bad mother or the bad employee. One respondent cleared every interview round after a year and a half off with her newborn. In the final round, the marketing head asked whether she was doing an injustice to her seven-month-old by working long hours. She did not get the job. Another was told, in so many words, that the company did not want a pregnant woman. Those who make it to leadership hear their success put down to long hours in the office and "sucking up to the bosses".
Sexualisation. Several women trace this to the industry's image in the 1990s and early 2000s, when, as one put it, the assumption was that you were in PR because you looked good. One respondent's parents did not want her to join PR at all because of how it was seen. Promotions came with whispers about how a woman got there. A client's CEO made a pass at a woman working late on a conference, saying he thought communications people were open to that sort of thing. A new boss asked one respondent whether she had an Ashley Madison account. Another noticed that people listened to her differently after she lost 20 kilos.
Taking all the blame. When a journalist kissed one respondent on the cheek, her first reaction was to question herself: had she given the wrong signal? She changed how she dressed and spoke. Others describe home as the non-negotiable priority, whatever the job demands. One chose not to have children because it was easier than the guilt.
Being treated as the outsider. Big-ticket and "serious" clients go to men; "filmy, fun" ones go to women. A banking client asked a respondent to send someone else because she might not understand banking. Pay gaps came up repeatedly: one woman recalled a gap of about 40% when she was last employed; another earns ₹60 lakh while knowing male VPs earn upwards of ₹80 lakh. One firm was around 70% women, but every role from VP up was held by a man. Respondents describe cliques, "cosy committees" and a bro-club. And some point to senior women who make the path harder for those coming up behind them.
How women push back
The study finds three ways the women handle this.
The enterprising woman works relentlessly on herself: upskilling, rarely taking leave, pushing through. It often ends in burnout. One founder trained in neuro-linguistic programming to get past her own imposter syndrome.
The rebel calls it out. One respondent signed her name without the "Kaur" from the age of 16 and says many of her opportunities came because people assumed she was a man. Another recorded a client's sexist remark and escalated it.
The nurturer changes the rules for others. One founder has stopped work after 6.30pm, made weekends off-limits, moved Fridays to work-from-anywhere and built flexibility into maternity policy. An in-house head tells young parents in her team, men included, to take the time when they need it.
The balancing act
The study's central finding is what the authors call gendered recalibration. Women leaders don't simply balance being assertive with being "feminine". They keep readjusting that balance to fit expectations about family, propriety and respectability. Be assertive, but not aggressive. Be ambitious, but modest. Be independent, but not so much that it looks like you have neglected home.
The authors argue the PR profession itself carries a moral stigma in India, and that this, not just company structures, shapes how far women go.
There is a media relations angle too. One head of corporate communications says she does not allow her juniors to meet journalists over dinner, or even coffee, on media rounds, and asks for details of who they are meeting and where. It is protective. It also shows how the burden of staying safe still falls on women's behaviour.
What needs to change
The authors' main point for the industry: a women-majority workforce is not the same as equality. Rather than asking women to fit in, firms should review how they define leadership, how they promote, and how they spot talent. They should stop judging competence by appearance and sociability, and set clear criteria for expertise and strategic contribution.
The study has limits, which the authors acknowledge. It hears only from women who made it, not from those who left or stalled in middle management. It focuses on one generation, those who entered PR after liberalisation, and on an elite group. They call for research on younger professionals and on how caste, class, religion and region shape careers in communications.
Majority without authority: Discursive power and women's leadership in Indian public relations by Medha Bakhshi and Papiya De is published in Public Relations Review, Volume 52 (2026). doi.org/10.1016/j.pubrev.2026.102777
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