What It Means to be a woman in photography

I love my job, I really do. I love creation and collaboration and getting to present to my audience how I see the world through my lens. I see bright colors and flashing lights and blurred motion. Smiles and excitement and moments that happen in a fraction of a second. I built something from the bottom up, and to say I’m proud of it is an understatement. 

And then I came upon the predicament of doing twice as much to get half as much credit as my male counterparts. Or shall I word it, they were doing half as much as me, and getting twice the credit and recognition. And the blissful unawareness of being recognized for mediocrity is a privilege I will never experience. The truth of being a woman in this industry is simple. You can’t just be equal to your male counterparts. You have to be more.

Molly Grace in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Photo taken by Maddie Ciliento.

I can speak only for myself and my experiences, which is why I’ll be delving into some of my first experiences being a young, female photographer, that shaped the way I continue to build my business and publication. 

My first “real” concert photography gig that I ever got a pass for, there were about 8 photographers. There was only one other woman there, a little older, who did not speak to me the entire time. I was also the youngest of the bunch by far. It was a music festival, so we were all held in a room for an hour before and the hour in between the opener and headliner. All of the men gathered in the corner, talking about all of the gear they had brought with them, and what publication or outlet they were there with. It was all so obnoxious, that even with my lack of experience with photography in this specific field, I was like, really? Why are we judging each other based on our gear and who we’re working with? No matter your past accomplishments, we are all in the same room right now, shooting the same show, and given the same opportunities. I was not attached to a publication at the time, and was shooting with one camera and one lens. Yet there I was, feeling inferior despite the accomplishment of being chosen for the exact same opportunity as published photographers when I had no experience. Now, I give people the benefit of the doubt sometimes. When men “bro out” about camera focal lengths or whatever, there’s no stopping that. I talked to the girls who were volunteering in the press room. All the photographers exchanged social media at the end of the day. One specific interaction I remember is one of the male photographers taking a photo of me in the pit (I didn’t know he was taking a photo of me at the time), and then airdropped it to me when we were exchanging social medias, telling me to “tag him if I post it.” I took the interaction as nice at the time, but not so much anymore. He ended up being my Uber driver a year ago (lol), where he went on and on about his professional photography business, handing out business cards to me and my friends and not realizing we had ever met. 

Secondly, I’ve done my fair share of volunteering and free concert shoots, where male event supervisors and producers have put their hands on me. I saw it in a sort of ‘grandpa’ way while trying to dismiss how uncomfortable it felt in my bones to have hands on my shoulders or a hand on my back.

Third, Within 3 hours at an event I was being paid to cover, I was : 

Dismissed by a security officer at the employee entrance when I told him I was with the press. 

A security guard in the pit asked me if I was at that venue the previous weekend, and I was, so I said yes. His response? “I knew it, I never forget a pretty face.” He was at least double my age, and it’s not a compliment when I could be as old as your daughter.

I was told to wait outside of the men’s dressing room, where we would be taking meet and greet photos. I was there for 45 minutes while men passed me, and you can imagine the looks I got.

Finally, the kicker. Because this was a non-English speaking event and I was not familiar with the artist, when the second song blended into the third song, I didn’t realize. I was the only photographer in the pit when a large security man came around the corner and started yelling at me and pointing at me to get out of the pit, putting his hand on my shoulder and leading me towards the pit exit. He muttered something along the lines of “I told you you only had two songs.” I don’t think I’ve ever left a venue so early and so fast without taking many shots of the crowd. The only person who thanked me was the artist herself after the meet and greet photos (she’s a sweetheart), but I took my pay with relief that I didn’t have to return.

Lastly, I had an experience with an all female presenting photographer team that was waiting at the side of a venue to be let into the pit. All younger and eager. A minute before the show started, an older, taller man pushed his way in front of the line of women photographers, and was the first in line when the pit opened. 

Because of this, I started this music publication. This is my mission. Yet, back in June when I was looking to build my team, I had at least 10 male identifying people apply to be a part of an advertised women-only publication. I had to email and politely say “This is not the place for you.” The confidence and utter dismissal of the core beliefs of my publication in order to get recognized and validated in this field was surprising, to say the least. It is infuriating to be recognized for my talent but to be discounted at the cost of my gender and appearance. While forming Offstage Exposure, I did a lot of research into statistics about women’s creative work in the music industry, and found a huge gender gap in photographers that get chosen for photo passes, chosen to tour, and surprise surprise, harassment. I did not ask for my career to be more difficult under circumstances I can not control, but that’s the way it is. I cannot have an “off” day. I can not be assertive because then I am rude. I tell myself over and over again “I am here to do a job,” to make myself feel better about pushing my way out of a crowd or accidentally stepping on toes. I hold my camera on my shoulder so it’s known I am supposed to be there. 

Let me say this. Every space is built for men. Not every space is built for women. It seems understanding is handed out to men for “mistakes” or “bad days”, but understanding for women is translated as weakness and untrustworthiness. The fact that these are still issues makes me feel like my mission is a small part of something so much bigger. Fighting is what I do, and I crave justice like nobody I've ever met. When I feel the bass in my bones, something tells me I’m meant to be there.

Written by Maddie Ciliento, Founder.