Opinion All that we carry in our just-in-case totes

The insides of a purse may seem like clutter, but it isn’t. It’s a labour of love, fear and foresight translated into objects. Each just-in-case item is a woman’s way of carrying not just herself, but everyone she cares about.

But why do women do this? Because they are conditioned to live in the land of just-in-case. Just in case someone falls sick, just in case a child cries, just in case the car breaks down. The purse is less about fashion and more about forethought. An invisible syllabus of caregiving tucked into zippers.

From a psychological lens, the just-in-case purse isn’t about objects; it reflects the mental load women carry every day. Research shows that women are often socialised into anticipatory caregiving; they not only respond to needs, but also predict them. The Band-Aid is for the scrapes that haven’t happened yet, the snacks for a hunger no one has admitted to yet and the tissues for  tears not yet cried.

Historically, women were positioned as the caretakers of families, responsible for food, healing, and protection. Carrying just-in-case items may be an echo of that role, a psychological residue of having to anticipate threats to survival. Yet, psychologists caution that what appears to be instinct is often a product of cultural scripting. Sociologist Arlie Hochschild, in The Second Shift, described how women shoulder “invisible labour” even in modern, egalitarian households. This purse becomes an extension of this. A physical reminder that society still expects women to manage everyone else’s emergencies.

Entire industries thrive on the idea that women must always be prepared. Cosmetics, fashion and lifestyle brands have mastered the art of packaging responsibility into something portable. The travel perfume that promises confidence, the compact powder that claims to save face, the foldable flats marketed as a rescue from heels that betray you at midnight. None of these are sold as luxuries. They are sold as safeguards. Preparedness becomes something that can be purchased, wrapped in glossy packaging, and tucked neatly into a handbag.

This expectation turns resilience into a market. What looks like empowerment is often pressure in disguise, urging women to buy not just products, but a sense of peace of mind. The just-in-case purse, then, is not simply about habit or preference. It is a cultural construct, shaped as much by advertising as by tradition, tying identity to preparedness and responsibility to consumption

So, how do women deal with the weight of carrying everyone’s emergencies?

First, by daring to slip in something just for them. A piece of chocolate you don’t share, perfume for no occasion or that lipstick shade that makes you feel like a main character.

Second, by remembering that preparedness does not have to equal self-erasure.

Setting boundaries, which sounds heavy, but sometimes it’s as small as saying “sorry, no, my purse doesn’t have space for that today”.

Ultimately, the just-in-case purse is not trivial. It is a cultural artifact that tells the story of women’s lives; their caretaking, their foresight, their burdens, and their brilliance.

Every tissue, snack, or safety pin tucked inside is both a symptom of a society that demands too much from women and a testament to women’s extraordinary adaptability.

The write is a psychologist

National Editor Shalini Langer curates the fortnightly ‘She Said’ column