I haven’t written much so far about my life as a performing musician, so we’ll depart from the hospital stories for a hot second.

I have never felt comfortable in femininity – that is to say, I have never felt like I can fit myself into what people expect of women. I think very few women do, and many spend a ton of energy trying. I think I probably did too before I thought, ah, fuck it. This awkward disconnect between me and my assigned gender manifests in many different ways (loving mismatched/ill-fitting clothing, taking initiative in romantic/sexual encounters, making poop jokes, etc), but I am beginning to look at how gender affects me as a musician in different settings and noticing some frustrating patterns. And disturbing ones as well, when I see them exemplified in our music culture.

I challenge you right now to name five past/present “household name” female musicians who 1. write their own material, 2. perform their own work, and – wait for it – 3. do not use their sexual desirability to sell their art (I’m so torn about Beyonce because she has one of the only all-female bands in the spotlight right now and that is SO rad – but she still wears four pairs of stockings so that her thighs don’t jiggle when she dances. Sigh.). Right now, thinking about it for a few minutes, I can think of three: Joni Mitchell, and Tracy Chapman (which is a stretching the “household name” qualifier at this point). Maybe you can name more – that’s great. My point is not that there are absolutely no women anywhere who have been publicly recognized for their musical prowess without sexing themselves up for male producers/audiences. My point is that out of all of musical legends we have idolized through history, there are only a handful of women who are truly valued as musicians the way that men are.

So let’s look at what this means for a solo female songwriter/performer entering the music scene. It means male audience members complimenting your appearance more predominantly than the work that went into the creation and performance of your songs (fun fact: I have been repeatedly hit on in the hospital by a male musician volunteer.) It means whenever male musicians, however well-intentioned, ask to collaborate, they expect me to harmonize with them on their material or covers – not on my own material. (I can count on one hand the number of men who have learned a song I wrote and performed it with me.) It means being ignored or talked down to by sound guys who don’t think I know how to mic myself properly. It means a perpetual tone of surprise when I can learn a voice or instrument part, transpose an entire song, improvise, or generally display any sort of musician proficiency. It means having to constantly tell yourself every day that what you do is unique and important and worthwhile, which is what all musicians/artists have to do anyway – the difference is that you are put in the position of having to constantly enforce your membership to others within the community.

I want to take a minute and express my gratitude to the surprising number of people I have found who truly hear me and value what I do. I have met some kickass people who believe in my work and my mission, and I have been propelled by their encouragement thus far. I don’t want to sound ungrateful about being able to play music at all (in traditional Ghanaian culture, women are forbidden from playing the drums at all, as it is believed to bring bad luck). I have loved all the opportunities that have come into my life, and generally feel very blessed.

HOWEVER. I am tired of this. I am tired of biting my tongue when people make assumptions that the men around me know more about music than I do.  I am tired of being used as decoration for an egotistical performer’s songs that I frankly don’t think are as well-crafted as my own. I am tired of being hit on and undervalued at work. I want to find men that can match me in talent and in artistic humility, who see and challenge my songwriting instead of just trying to capture the lilt of my voice to highlight their own songs. I am tired of feeling guilty for asking for the attention and recognition I deserve. I want to help build a culture that values the message, without so much attention to the appearance of its vessel. I want girls to grow up singing as loudly, as low, as soft, as un-pretty as they want. A friend of mine who has taught guitar for over a decade tells me that the teenage girls generally practice more than the teenage boys, but take less credit for their hard work. It isn’t their fault, but it’s our responsibility to make a different world.

Next time you are listening to a female performer, think about what is truly good about her work. More than just her voice being pretty or her songs being pleasant background music. Did her lyrics blow your mind? Do you want to learn to play guitar/piano/bass like her? Are her songs taking risks? Have you seen her live? Go do it, and watch how she carries herself on stage. Do you admire her confidence, her passion, her strength, her radical approach to music? Is she using her body to win your approval, or using her art to reach into you to touch something real?