Where my ladies at?

We Need More Femme Voices on Stage

Recently, I went to a songwriter circle concert with one of our studio members, and holy shit—it was pretty fucking magical.

Four women singer-songwriters sitting on a stage, taking turns singing one song after the other. That's it. No backing band, no elaborate production, just raw talent and stories being shared in the most intimate way possible. I guess this is a common format, but it was completely new to me, and I'm already obsessed.

So yes, I loved the format—but really? It was seeing four incredibly different, incredibly talented, and skilled women up there singing their own music. In this industry, femme artists are somehow still the minority, which is super fucked up when you think about it. More than 90% of my clients are women, and in the voice teaching industry, that's a very common percentage. So where the hell are all these talented women when it comes to live performance spaces?

I've had so many female and femme clients who are performers share terrible stories about how men they work with or perform with have treated them. The dismissiveness, the mansplaining, the way their contributions get minimized or overlooked (or stolen)—it's exhausting just hearing about it, let alone living it.

And listen, I love all my masc clients too—this isn't about pitting anyone against each other. But it raises this question that keeps me up at night: if such a high percentage of people taking voice classes are women, why the hell are masc folks the ones who predominantly end up on stage?

I’ve been pondering this and I think it comes down to how we're all trained differently in this society. Masc folks can get up there and be imperfect, be learning, be rough around the edges—and that's totally acceptable. But femme people? We're conditioned from day one that in order to be seen, we should be flawless. We're taught not to want to be seen in public without being perfect.

That conditioning runs deep. It keeps so many incredibly talented women and femme folks in the practice room instead of on the stage, waiting for some mythical moment when they'll be "ready enough" or "good enough."

Fuck that nonsense. I want us to get messy. I want us to be seen—imperfections and all.

When we go to open mics around here, they're overwhelmingly masc. There's often very little femme presence, and honestly? I'm getting really tired of it. Last night felt like a breath of fresh air and, dammit, I want more.

These four women were extraordinary. Were they all my cup of tea? Not necessarily but each brought something completely different to the table—something for everyone. There's no single way to be a woman in music. Their voices, their stories, their approaches to songwriting—all unique, all powerful, all necessary.

You know what the best part was? Watching them support each other. Period.

They were complimenting each other between songs, genuinely celebrating each other's work. No one was trying to step on each other's toes or compete for attention. They were there simply to share their music, to share their stories, to connect with the audience—and good lort, did they connect.

You know what? I want to be part of bringing more femme artists to the front in our area.

I am so fucking sick of the bro-y narrative that somehow persists in saying that men are the only ones who can perform live music. It's 2025. If not now, then when? And I would argue we need women’s and femme’s voices more than ever. The political climate is pretty fucking scary right now—merely existing as a non-cis-hetero-male is an act of resistance, let alone making ourselves heard through joy, pain, and everything in between.

The women I saw highlighted that femme artists don't just belong on stage—they command it. They bring perspectives, stories, and energy that are desperately needed in our music scene in in our world.

It’s past time to actively change this. It's time to create more spaces, more opportunities, more songwriter circles that celebrate the incredible femme talent in our community. Because trust me, it's there—it just needs more platforms.

Last night reminded me why representation matters so much. When you see someone who looks like you, sounds like you, or shares your experience up on that stage, it doesn't just inspire you—it gives you permission to believe it's possible for you too.

For those of you who are curious here are the performers:

Anna St. Lee

Jessie Thoreson

A Strange Bird

And that? That's pretty fucking magical indeed.