I've spent years building a career that I'm incredibly proud of. I've earned both national and international awards and publications. I've photographed campaigns for tourism departments, government agencies, countless brands, and small businesses. I've mentored photographers across the country, taught at conferences, and dedicated years to refining both my craft and my business. And yet, I've been overlooked too many times to my male counterparts. I’ve lost projects, or have had to compete with men who have less experience, weaker portfolios, and fewer qualifications simply because they had a bigger online following, even when that following was manufactured. I’ve had to fight for equal licensing pay. I’ve had to speak up, and defend my rates. Because somewhere along the way, popularity has become more valuable than proven expertise, and confidence became more convincing than actual competence.

There is still an underlying belief that men are the "professional photographers," while women are somehow still viewed as the creative hobbyists. It doesn't matter how many awards you win. It doesn't matter how many years you've been in business. It doesn't matter how many campaigns you've photographed or how many clients continue to hire you year after year. Women are too often expected to prove their professionalism over and over again in ways that men simply are not. And then there's something we don't talk about enough. Many male photographers are quick to celebrate other men. They recommend each other, refer each other, speak highly of each other's work, and create opportunities for one another. Too often, that same respect isn't extended to their female peers. Regardless of accolades and accomplishments. Instead of being recognized as equals, women are compared, underestimated, excluded from conversations, or treated as though our success is somehow an exception rather than evidence of our expertise. That isn't competition. That is bias. Misogyny in photography isn't always loud. It isn't always someone saying women don't belong. More often, it's subtle. It's who gets trusted with the commercial campaign. Who gets introduced as the expert. Who gets recommended behind closed doors. Who gets assumed to be the assistant instead of the lead photographer. I've experienced enough of it to know it isn't imaginary. And unfortunately, women at the highest levels experience this. Sometimes success actually makes insecure people more dismissive because acknowledging your accomplishments would require them to see you as a peer. Or dare I say, more qualified. Thankfully, I've also worked alongside a handful of incredible men who have championed my work, respected my business, and treated me as an equal. They remind me that this isn't about men versus women. It's about a culture that still has work to do. I don't want opportunities because I'm a woman. I want women to stop losing opportunities because they are. Talent deserves respect. Experience deserves credibility. Excellence deserves recognition. No matter who is standing behind the camera. The photography industry doesn't have a shortage of talented women. It has a shortage of people willing to see them with the same credibility they've long afforded men.

Imagine where so many talented women would be today if they had been judged solely by the quality of their work instead of the assumptions made about who was creating it.