Last week, I discussed my first few days in my internship placement at a small film production company. It’s a fun, fast-paced work environment, but I am the only female employee.
I had scoured the company website leading up to my interview over the summer, and I was relieved to see that of 16 people listed on their “About Us” page, two were women. Not an ideal ratio, but better than nothing? Apparently, this page is vastly outdated. From passing remarks my supervisors make in the office, I can gather that one of the women I originally identified has since moved on and begun her own production company.
So what’s the big deal?
Like I’ve said above, it’s a great work environment: supportive, educational, and kind. I truly think that these guys are helping me become more comfortable with my skills, and through them, I can see what my own career in the film industry might look like.
But still, masculinity is the first thing I notice. They refer to the others collectively as “boys” and “lads” a lot, which I suppose might be compounded by their Britishness.
It doesn’t take away from my work, necessarily, but I am very aware of the power dynamics in the office. I am much younger than they are, an American, relatively unskilled, and of course, female. At the same time, I don’t fault them for the company developing in this way — I can easily see how they probably have more male than female friends. When they network with freelancers and bring creatives into the business, it naturally grows more and more male.
I don’t think they are altogether oblivious to this, and I have been vocal with a few of them about how it sticks out to me. I heard them discussing the lack of diversity with recent podcast guests, saying that it is something to work on in the future. In fact, last week we hosted Yasmin Paige, an actress in the U.K. cult classic coming-of-age film Submarine, so now my editing podcast reels can be female-focused for a few days.
Women have been historically underrepresented in leading roles in the film industry. Between 1998 and 2024, there was growth, but it’s been quite marginal. Female producers rose from 24% to 27%, executive producers from 18% to 22%, writers from 13% to 20%, directors from 9% to 16%, and cinematographers from a shockingly low 4% to a still very dismal 12%. Women working as editors on top-grossing films remained at a stagnant 20%.
These statistics do not even attempt to characterize the further lack of intersectional inclusion, for example, women of color, in the LGBTQ+ community, with disabilities, or from different socioeconomic statuses.
Contributing to shifting gender roles and workplace ratios is the ongoing phenomenon of “male exodus,” the label some attribute to men leaving certain industries or environments as women earn prominence in them. For example, white male enrollment in universities has dropped from 49% to 40% in recent years as opinions on the worth of college degrees falter, according to WXAV.
Are these shifts in perception due to increasing female visibility? Could the film industry’s reputation fall, too, if the percentage of women in power continues to grow? Regardless of the potential negative outcomes, I believe it is very important for media industries to properly represent their audiences. Plus, I think, at this rate, we have a long way to go before women reach that critical composition.
A few years ago, I was involved in my cousin’s film collective in Paris called The Boys Club, aimed at creating space in the industry for female artists and a network of support to produce projects. This showed me that institutional change can come from the ground up, combating both the lack of visible female creatives and the stereotypes that women competitively tear each other down rather than striving for collective success.
My internship experience also makes me question what direction my own career — and that of my female peers — can take. Where might we be allowed to fit in? How can we traverse the expectation to go above and beyond for equal recognition as our male counterparts without being mislabeled as controlling or cocky?
I don’t think anyone really has the answer. I hope my internship can give me some insight into building my own confidence and sort out the best path forward. If I let that intimidation get to me, I might miss my chance at improving those dismal statistics.
The other day, the typical “boys” greeting got a mini adjustment. It was a small thing, but it caught my attention. “Boys… and girls?” one of my coworkers tentatively announced as he entered the office. “Boys” may have been their normalized greeting, but there seems to be recognition that it’s not a gender-neutral term. Gender is consciously attached in some way.
My final thoughts are these: the progress is not done, but it has by no means fizzled out. You and I have the power to carry over these learning moments into our own projects and creative interactions.
One small change at a time can make these spaces not just representative of “boys,” or even “boys and girls,” but “everyone.
Want to keep up with HCBU? Make sure to like us on Facebook, follow us on Instagram, check out our Pinterest board, watch us on TikTok, and read our latest Tweets!