I can still remember the thrill I felt when I had my first story published in a newspaper. It was 2006, and my husband and I were living in a remote corner of Andalucia, Spain, renovating an old farmhouse we had bought. I had seen an advert for ‘reporters’ in a local English language newspaper for the British expat community. Having studied journalism at university, and having always had a love of the written word, I hastily applied. My first assignment was to investigate a new solar energy farm that had been built on the vast plateau of flatlands that surrounded Granada. Together with my 9-month-old baby, I visited the site, took photographs, spoke to the construction team, and to local residents. And there it was, my first published story on Spain’s leading role in the development of solar power. I was paid 50 euros for the piece and was immensely excited that I could actually get paid for something that I loved doing. Needless to say, I still have the clipping.
Since that first story, I have never looked back. Through hard work, determination, and perseverance, I went on to sculpt a fulfilling career as a freelance political journalist. That said, it hasn’t been easy, and I do believe that my gender has disadvantaged me in a number of ways in my efforts to carve out a niche position in the world of journalism.
I went on to secure a job at the largest English language newspaper in Spain. I was tasked with finding, researching and writing a set amount of stories per weekly edition, for a fixed monthly fee of 750 euros. At the time, my husband would regularly return to Britain for work, and between that and renovating the house, I was responsible for most of the childcare. Unable to afford childcare costs, I set about trying to meet my quota of weekly articles and impress in my ‘dream job,’ while at the same time caring for my baby son pretty much by myself. After experiencing something of a burnout and realising the quota of work was just too demanding along with the responsibility of raising a baby, I quit after about two months into the job. I was aghast when the editor, who was male and completely unsympathetic towards my situation, and clearly riled by my resignation despite the fact I was never given an official contract that stipulated notice clauses, refused to pay me for the second month’s work.
I rhetorically asked myself, would this have happened to a man? Would a man have even been forced to juggle childcare and pursue a career in the first place? While of course it would be wrong to assume that women are the only ones navigating the demanding world of simultaneous childcare and careers, numerous studies show that women still do the bulk of childcare. Research also confirms that the majority of women journalists identified ‘balancing work and family’ as the number one obstacle they encountered in attempting to advance journalism careers.
To be honest, the experience didn’t put me off, it just made me more determined to succeed.
After several years of freelancing in Spain for little financial reward, and with my two boys coming up to school age, in 2012 I applied for a managerial position in the editorial department of a marketing agency in Manchester. I got the job, and we moved back to the UK, relegating our house in Spain to a holiday home. I spent the next 18 months, heading up a busy department of an agency dominated by men. While most of my colleagues were accommodating and respectful, the same could not be said about the executive management, particularly the cocksure director, who would arrogantly strut through the office every morning speaking as loudly as he possibly could on his phone. While there were no blatant and aggressive expressions of sexism in the office, I did feel that gender discrimination was at play. I recall meetings when I was the only woman present, with both co-workers and clients. Whether deliberately or unintentionally, I felt that I was made to feel ‘small’ in those meetings, with my input being somewhat overlooked and dismissed.
Feeling increasingly isolated and the ‘outsider,’ and with childcare costs making a financial mockery of me being in an office job, I began to crave for my former freelancing days. For reasons that were not disclosed to those outside of the boardroom, the agency went bust anyway, saving me from the awkwardness of having to resign.
Back to the freedom of freelancing and being my own boss, I decided to focus on my biggest passion, political journalism. Throughout the years, I have worked with some brilliant editors around the world, male and female. Political author Michael Levitin, editor of the US news site Occupy.com, was especially encouraging, constructively feeding back his comments on my work, and always believing in me.
That said, not all experiences have been positive, and gender imbalance has often reared its head.
The Covid-19 pandemic hit the media industry hard. Freelance budgets were reduced, and job cuts in traditional newsrooms meant more journalists entered the freelance sector. As such, freelance gigs became more competitive. Many editors were uncompromising and unapologetic when informing writers and staff that they no longer required your services; it wasn’t their choice but their ‘only option’. I probably lost around 40 percent of my regular work during the pandemic, which I firmly believe was because I am a woman, and only served as a reminder of the inequality women face in journalism.
Being the primary child carers, women journalists are more likely to be freelance do part-time work so they can juggle childcare, compared with their male counterparts, as research shows. As such, women journalists were disproportionately affected by jobs cuts in the pandemic.
On top of the pressure the pandemic put on journalists, the attack on freedom of the press should not be overlooked in this discussion. In its 2019 Media and Freedom report, Freedom House, a non-profit that advocates on issues of democracy, political freedom, and human rights, showed that in the past decade, media freedom has been deteriorating around the world. Often driven by authoritarian governments, media freedom is being stifled by an increasingly hostile political rhetoric towards journalists. Couple this with the rise of social media, and aggression and violence towards journalists have increased. Within this environment, women journalists face additional risks compared with their male colleagues. UNESCO’s April 2021 report, The Chilling: Global Trends in online violence against women journalists, laid bare the escalation of gender-based violence faced by women journalists in the last decade, both online and face-to-face. The report also highlighted how the rise in digital journalism and social media has made women especially vulnerable.
While I haven’t experienced the horrific assault, smear campaigns and threats many women journalists have been subjected to, I have certainly encountered online trolling. Writing about divisive political issues, my work is going to always attract an element of criticism and backlash, which I accept. I have always been emboldened by the motto, “it’s better to create and be criticised than not create at all.” However, I do feel that my gender makes me particularly vulnerable, and some of the misogynistic comments have nothing to do with my work and everything to do with my gender.
I love my job, always have done and always will do, but I continue to be saddened that the profession is so vulnerable to gender-based discrimination. Women journalists play a vital role in shaping the media industry, and advocating for gender equality and social justice, so why are we still be forced to overcome challenges and threats? More needs to be urgently done to acknowledge such challenges, recognise the imperative role women journalists play, and create true gender equality in the media.
By Gabrielle Pickard-Whitehead
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