Singer-composer Adnan Sami talks about ‘red lipstick’ in his new track, and it has left me wondering: Is he the new feminist? When Sami says, “lipstick laga ke, nazar utar le”, which translates to use lipstick to ward off evil eye, it insinuates red lipstick as an anti-evil-eye armour.
His approach to the song wasn’t like a revolutionary writer. There is no angry speech. No ‘smash the patriarchy’ monologue. According to his song, red lipstick is protective. It does away with the ‘buri nazzar’ (evil eye). And, this change in tone does the job.
I can already imagine women like me using it sarcastically. If someone asks, “Why so much red lipstick?”, I can say, “Nazar lag rahi thi” (was getting affected by the evil eye).
To understand the relevance of Sami’s new song, one has to understand that red lipstick has always carried social baggage in India.
It has been called “too bold, too loud, too modern, too available.” Women wearing it were either too glamorous, too rebellious, or trying too hard. Cinema has also amplified this perception. The good girl got pastel lips, while the vamp or the seductive dancer got the scarlet lipstick.
So, somewhere along the way, an entire generation of women grew up learning that red lipstick was not just regular makeup.
In middle-class households, especially, red lipstick became one of those strange cultural markers. Mothers hid it. College girls borrowed it. Every Indian woman has heard some variation of it. For me, it was always, “you will look mature” or worse, “married.” However, the discomfort was never with the colour. It was with women’s representation.
Naturally, someone had to speak up. But, whenever Indian pop culture tries to discuss women’s liberation, it’s always in two extremes. Either the woman must become a very serious symbol of resistance, or she becomes the object of glamour. There is rarely room for fun.
Sami’s Lipstick sneaks into that gap, making it more visible.
Is Sami the new feminist?
In the music video, Sami appears in an all-black outfit, with curly hair and silver jewellery completing the look. His styling and expressions carry an intentionally fluid, provocative energy, especially in moments where his expressions are borderline sultry. Had he worn the red lipstick, it would have been the cherry on top.
The song goes on to portray people across genders embracing red lipstick: a group of men casually chatting while wearing it, and in the closing scene, an old man stepping into a dark room and carefully applying the same red lipstick under the glow of a torch. Scary indeed, but funny.
The moment people start laughing at outdated ideas, those ideas begin losing power.
The song’s tone remains light, playful and not so serious toward the cultural baggage surrounding red lipstick. So, does that make him a feminist? Probably not in the textbook sense.
He is not leading panel discussions on gender theory anytime soon. But feminism has also evolved beyond grand declarations. It is through tiny acts of normalisation. Through humour. Through songs that people hum.
And there is definitely something refreshing about a male artist talking about a traditionally judged feminine symbol without shame attached to it.
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Returning its playfulness
Every swipe of a red lipstick carries a tiny rebellion energy. Not always political. Most times, it’s just personal. Someone trying to feel pretty during a horrible week. Someone using it as a source to boost confidence right before a photo shoot or a meeting. Or maybe the shade just looked stunning under mall lighting. That’s the beauty of it.
Women never owed society an explanation for wearing red lipstick anyway. Hence, Sami’s song lands so well. It takes something burdened with judgement and returns it to playfulness. It’s only about vibes, glamour, and ‘buri nazar’ protection.
But the smartest part of the song was Sami not trying to ‘save’ women or become some aggressively woke mascot. He simply changed the lens around a taboo object.
Views are personal.
(Edited by Saptak Datta)