On Maintaining Integrity: Being a Woman in a Creative Field

By Nicole A. Kimber

In my first formal creative writing class in my second year of university, I was given my first piece of advice on what to do if I wanted to be a ‘woman’ writer. It came from my TA, a sweet young guy who I believe genuinely wanted to help me. In a way, I suppose he did: this was a warning of what lay ahead for me as a woman in a creative field. 

He was honest. He made me recognise the fact that even though I was committed, it would be harder for me to be taken seriously as a writer because I was a woman. The first bit of advice he gave me? Stay away from genres that women are known for writing. Memoir, Romance, Young Adult, Gothic Fiction. I was disappointed, having written a Gothic Fiction the previous year. 

He then said I might have a better chance of being taken seriously if I wrote in ‘male-dominated genres’ like Fantasy, Science Fiction, Horror, and – he particularly emphasised – Literary Fiction. However, I would have to be better than a lot of the men I was competing against, simply because I was a woman. My options were either not being taken seriously and being stereotypical, or not being taken seriously until I had somehow worked my way into a ‘boys club’. To say I felt discouraged would be an understatement. 

Use a pseudonym or find a way to avoid it being obvious that you are a woman – his next piece of advice. More men will read your work that way, he said. I took that advice to heart. For many years the pen name I used, the one that I am still using now, was put in place to hide my gender. 

My TA was not wrong, in some ways, to warn me. In my time at school, I struggled a great deal with finding the balance between what I wanted to write and what others considered to be good writing. In turn, I dealt with the fact that writing was a domain in which men were on top, despite it being something that everyone could do. The large thing about my program, which helped to form my identity as a writer, was that I was told to never sacrifice my integrity as one.  

I never had that option. Or at least, it never felt like it. To this day, it still doesn’t at times. I feel like I am constantly at a crossroads. Write for myself or write for the perceived audience? Write for the men in my class who claimed that shortening their five-thousand-word short story a bit was an attack on their integrity? Meanwhile, nearly every aspect of the style I chose to adopt was openly criticised each time that I presented a piece. Too emotional. Unrealistic characters. I was trying too hard. 

I remember the one time I finally wrote a piece that I thought would appease my professors and classmates. To this day, I still consider it one of the worst pieces that I have ever written. It was cold, unemotional, straight to the point, tick all the boxes of the genre, stereotypical trash. It received the most positive feedback from the men in my class; I received my highest mark for a story that year. 

I remember crying to my family because I didn’t know if I could continue being a writer if that was what ‘good writing’ meant. I had traded in my integrity for the praise of the men in my class, and the reward was a complete shattering of my self-worth as a writer. I had followed my TA’s advice. Yes, I had earned a small shred of respect, if but for a moment, but I lost something of much greater worth.

I vowed never to do it again. Despite the rage it stirred in me, despite the struggle with my grades. Even though it could and would be so much easier to write what they wanted, I couldn’t do it. I still can’t. 

The thing about maintaining your integrity when you are a female writer or a woman working in a creative field is that you are going exactly against the advice my TA gave me. You are making your life more difficult. Perhaps you have a style, a medium, a voice that fits their idea of what you should be. There is nothing wrong with that, so long as it is authentically you. For the rest of us, who feel like we are torn between the artists we want to be and the artists others want us to be, we have a choice to make. We always have, and we always will. 

Unfortunately, even with men who support us, even with the many different platforms and voices making their way into the world and contributing their unique and beautiful creations, there is still a desperation to maintain the status quo. To maintain the idea of ‘canon’ as the ideal to meet. To maintain the importance of white-male figures as the leaders, acolytes, and ideals of these creative spheres. To erase or try to gatekeep the contributions of women, BIPOC, LGTBQIA+, and people with disabilities because their creations are not ‘high art’, ‘relatable’, ‘marketable’, etc. 

The truth is, we live in a world where the contributions of women in the past are still not fully recognised. Once upon a time, Frida Kahlo was known only as the wife of Rivera who ‘dabbled’ in painting. Elizabeth Siddal was the only woman to display her work alongside the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood and was a fantastic poet herself. Yet, she is most famous for being the wife and muse of Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Many still argue that Mary Shelley couldn’t have written Frankenstein, that it must have been her husband. These women and so many others like them are still struggling to receive the recognition they deserve as artists.

There is hope, even as things may seem unfair or abysmal. We are seeing the rise of new voices in writing, of publications specifically for women, for minorities, for those who are marginalised. People are beginning to make sure these stories are heard; people are beginning to fight against the status quo that says you must be what those in power tell you to be. The hope comes from doing exactly what my creative writing program insisted that I do, and then tried to take away from me. Maintain your integrity. Create the pieces only you can make. Share the stories only you can tell. Do it even when others tell you not to.