The gender representation debate in music refuses to fizzle out, and when festival season rolls around, the same scrutiny makes the rounds again. Social media erupts with line-up graphics covered in red ink, blotting out every act not fronted by a woman or non-binary performer. The intention is always the same: to hold organisers accountable for inequality. But in aiming for fairness, are we risking meritocracy in favour of optics? And more crucially, are we asking the right questions when we demand more diversity on the main stages of male-dominated festivals, especially in genres like rock?
There’s no denying that there are institutional problems in the industry that need addressing. But the call for representation for representation’s sake doesn’t solve the deeper issues—it just papers over them. When there are already hundreds of fiercely talented female artists dominating the charts and reshaping genres on their own terms, the argument that women are being universally shunned starts to collapse under the weight of its own simplicity.
Let’s step back and actually look at what the music industry needs right now, and whether the fight for better representation is addressing the real causes of inequality—or just its symptoms.
Festival Line-Ups: Visibility or Virtue Signalling?
Each year, line-up announcements for major rock festivals are met with outrage. It’s always a similar narrative: the top slots are packed with male-fronted bands, and women are relegated to the small print. The reaction is understandable; representation matters, and the optics of a line-up send a message about who belongs in the scene. But in some cases, the demand for an equal split starts to look more like a numbers game than a push for quality.
If the goal is fairness, forcing balance without addressing the pipeline that feeds these stages ends up being superficial. Are there as many active, high-profile female-fronted rock acts currently touring as there are male bands? Possibly not. But is that a reflection of discrimination on the part of festivals, or is it a result of fewer women currently pursuing rock as a genre in comparison to others?
It’s easy to point fingers at curators, but if we want true parity, we need to ask why the representation isn’t naturally more equal—and whether manipulating line-ups to appear balanced is actually achieving anything meaningful.
Merit Should Always Come First—But the Playing Field Must Be Level
It’s possible to advocate for both meritocracy and diversity without letting one undermine the other. The music industry should always prioritise talent, originality, and audience connection over identity politics. No artist wants to get a slot because of their gender; they want to get it because they deserve to be there. And as much as organisers have a responsibility to open doors, pushing artists into spaces they haven’t earned, just to appease a demographic expectation, helps no one—least of all the artists themselves.
But meritocracy only works when the playing field is level. If women are struggling to access rehearsal spaces, gear, mentors, or even the confidence to enter traditionally male genres, then of course fewer of them will climb to the level where festival slots make sense. So while the aim should never be to artificially inflate numbers, the responsibility lies in creating an environment where anyone, regardless of gender, can thrive and compete on equal terms.
The Problem Isn’t Visibility—It’s Pigeonholing
It’s disingenuous to suggest that women aren’t visible in music. Some of the most influential and commercially successful artists of this generation are women—Taylor Swift, Charli XCX, Sabrina Carpenter, SZA, Olivia Rodrigo, Lana Del Rey. In pop, RnB, indie, folk, soul, and electronica, women are leading the charge. The genre-specific disparity in rock is real, but it doesn’t reflect a systemic shunning of female artists across the board. It reflects the entrenched cultural associations of certain genres.
Rock has long been framed as a boys’ club, rooted in machismo and mythologised male rebellion. Women in rock are not new, but they’ve always had to fight for space in a scene that was never built with them in mind. That cultural coding matters. It’s what keeps some women from even picking up a guitar. But the answer to that isn’t to shoehorn women into line-ups—it’s to reframe the genre and who it belongs to.
Artists like Nova Twins, Pale Waves, and Chappell Roan are already proving that women are reshaping rock on their own terms. The genre doesn’t need charity; it needs cultural rewiring.
Gatekeeping vs Demand: What’s Actually Holding Women Back in Rock?
For all the noise about male-dominated scenes, it’s worth asking whether gatekeeping is the main reason women aren’t headlining rock festivals—or whether it comes down to demand. The live music industry, particularly festivals, is commercially driven. Curators book what sells tickets. If an all-male headliner lineup consistently sells out faster than a gender-diverse one, that tells us something—not necessarily about misogyny, but about market forces.
Of course, those forces are shaped by decades of inherited bias. But if the goal is sustainability, we can’t ignore the economics. Pushing female rock artists to the top of bills before they have the same level of fanbase, reach or impact doesn’t challenge the status quo—it just risks creating resentment and tokenism. It would be better to invest in building those artists up through media support, radio play, playlist curation, grassroots events, and fair funding opportunities—giving them a chance to naturally reach headline potential.
If anything needs to be dismantled, it’s the infrastructure that prevents female artists from building that reach, not the headliners already sitting on top of it.
Real Diversity Goes Deeper Than Gender
The fixation on gender representation often overshadows other, equally important diversity gaps—race, class, disability, sexuality. The music industry still leans heavily towards artists who can afford to take the financial risk, who live in cultural hubs, who have the confidence and networks to navigate the scene. That’s the deeper rot that needs addressing.
Equity doesn’t mean equal numbers across every metric; it means dismantling the specific obstacles that stop talented people from progressing. In some cases, that’s misogyny. In others, it’s poverty, neurodivergence, or a lack of industry connections. There’s no one-size-fits-all solution, and trying to enforce surface-level representation won’t change the industry unless it’s part of a wider cultural shift.
What the industry really needs is to stop treating identity like a box to tick and start creating conditions where merit and representation are aligned—not at odds.
Conclusion: Representation That Isn’t Earned Doesn’t Fix the Problem
No one is arguing against the value of representation. Seeing someone who looks like you on stage or at the top of the charts is powerful. It sends a message that you belong. But if that representation isn’t earned through merit, it rings hollow—and it risks undermining the very people it’s meant to support.
The music industry needs to keep breaking down barriers—but it also needs to resist the temptation to turn identity into a marketing tactic. There’s more than enough female talent to warrant fairer line-ups without forcing the issue. The problem isn’t that women aren’t capable or interested; it’s that the industry hasn’t made it easy for them to thrive in every genre.
Diversity and meritocracy aren’t opposing forces. They can—and should—exist together. But the push for gender balance must be rooted in honest critique, not reactive politics. If the goal is a healthier, more inclusive industry, we need to look beneath the surface of the line-ups and ask what’s really stopping artists from getting the recognition they deserve.
Article by Amelia Vandergast
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