That judgment extends beyond appearance. It applies to repertoire, to arrangement choices, to the very sound of a woman’s voice. A woman playing an aggressive solo is labeled brash. A woman who leads confidently is bossy. When a man pushes the boundaries, he’s a genius. When a woman does it, she’s trying too hard.

In jazz schools and conservatories, male professors often dominate the narrative. I’ve seen promising young female musicians sidelined in favor of male peers who play with half the sensitivity and none of the discipline. It starts early—and it never really ends.

And for those women who make it past the gatekeepers? There’s still the cost of advocacy. Speak out, and you risk exile. Stay silent, and you live with the injustice.

I’ve been propositioned by label execs. Told that if I played along, I’d get the tour, the record, the stage. I refused. I was blackballed—twice. There are places where my name is still spoken like poison. All because I said no.

That’s why I became a publisher. Because I realized I could do more with a pen and a platform than I ever could playing by someone else’s rules.

This industry has long operated like one big casting couch. And women have paid for it with silence, exile, and pain. But we’re done playing that game.

I launched AGENDA magazine to give these women space—to publish what the mainstream won’t. And now, through Jazz Influencers, Virtuoso Bass, Schmooze Jazz, and The Performing Artist, I continue that mission. But storytelling alone isn’t enough. We must build infrastructure, elevate the unheard, and rewrite the narrative entirely.

That’s why I created Bella Composers, a global platform to spotlight women composers. Through our Women Powered Music competition—originally launched through the Artemis Women in Action Film Festival—we’ve celebrated  female-led bands and composers from across the world in 2019: United States, Italy, Spain, Canada, Japan, Australia, the UK, and more. These women are writing the next chapter of jazz, neoclassical music, and film scoring, unapologetically and without compromise. I was honored to be featured as the first female Composer of the Year this past fall, and I share that spotlight with every woman who’s been silenced, dismissed, or cast aside.

We must also remember voices like Eartha Kitt, exiled from American stages after speaking out against the Vietnam War. The punishment? A government smear campaign and years of blacklisting. Her experience is a chilling reminder that women who use their voices for more than entertainment are often labeled dangerous. Brilliance is welcome—so long as it doesn’t challenge the status quo.

And what about Nina Simone, who channeled her rage and genius into protest anthems, or Melba Liston, the trailblazing trombonist and arranger whose contributions were often hidden behind the men she supported? Alice Coltrane, Toshiko Akiyoshi, Esperanza Spalding—all of them reshaped jazz with innovation and grace, yet each encountered resistance for daring to lead, to compose, to experiment, to take up space.

Today, hundreds of brilliant women in jazz continue to navigate a path laden with barriers. In cities around the world, women are leading bands, writing genre-defying compositions, and inspiring a new generation. Yet many still struggle to find the support systems their male counterparts receive by default.

We see it in the festival lineups, where the ratio of men to women remains staggeringly uneven. We see it in the review sections of jazz magazines, in the top playlists of streaming platforms. When women are included, it often feels like an exception—like they were let in on a special pass, not because they earned it, but because someone needed a token to point to.

We are not tokens. We are not guests in this house. We built it.

These artists have shaped the sound of jazz across generations—each with a story, a struggle, and a body of work that deserves the spotlight. As I reflect on the voices I’ve uplifted throughout this article, I would be remiss not to include one of my own contributions. My Man, a labor of love and resilience, represents my journey as a jazz artist, flutist, and bandleader navigating the double standards we’ve explored here. It stands among the work of women who, like me, refused to be silenced.

Here are just a few discographies that demand to be heard, studied, and celebrated:

• Sandra Booker – When Love Happens: The Loving Day Concert
• Alice Coltrane – Journey in Satchidananda
• Geri Allen – The Life of a Song
• Tia Fuller – Diamond Cut
• Terri Lyne Carrington – The Mosaic Project
• Ingrid Jensen – At Sea
• Regina Carter – Reverse Thread
• Hiromi Uehara – Alive
• Melissa Aldana – Visions
• Esperanza Spalding – Emily’s D+Evolution
• Cécile McLorin Salvant – Ghost Song
• Jane Ira Bloom – Early Americans 
• Linda May Han Oh – Walking Against Wind
• Nicky Schrire – Space and Time
• Kaylene Peoples – My Man

Each of these women rewrote the jazz lexicon. And yet, they remain on the margins of public memory compared to their male peers.

But that’s beginning to change.

Publications like Jazz Influencers are changing the narrative. Festivals curated by women, collectives built to uplift underrepresented voices, social media platforms that democratize exposure—these are the tools of transformation. We’re watching an evolution, slowly but surely.

But evolution needs fuel. And that fuel is visibility. It’s amplification. It’s the relentless, unapologetic celebration of women in jazz not as novelties, but as the very architects of the sound.

We are not an aside in jazz history.
We are the melody.

Jazz Influencers isn’t just a magazine. It’s a stage. A reclamation. A refusal to stay quiet while brilliance is buried.

We see you.
We hear you.
And we are unsung no more.