Transparent pricing, invisible bias:

A Note on Value and Respect

This year, two men told me I was overpriced after booking and sending their dancers to sessions. I’m always clear about my rates in advance, so those comments stuck with me. I felt a wave of guilt I couldn’t shake for weeks, despite knowing my rates were fair and lower than the industry standard. 

This summer, another gentleman asked if I’d like to schedule his daughter’s session around my real job. As if this—the work I’ve poured the last ten years into—couldn’t possibly be it.

Undervaluing women’s work isn’t new, yet it still catches me off guard. I’ve dedicated decades to my career. I have the training, education, and experience equal to, if not exceeding, what’s expected in any high-level profession. Yet somehow, that doesn’t register as “real work.” So I ask: what is enough?

Many of you, especially women, know how hard it can be to ask for fair compensation. Here’s some transparency: last year, I paid myself around $11,000. Summer bookings don’t add up to full-time income. Most of what I earn goes back into the business.

This year, I just reached the threshold to charge HST – not because I’m raking it in, but because I’ve been operating well below that line for years.

And if I were making 100K? Would that be considered too much for someone like me? Would a male photographer face the same scrutiny? 

Choosing not to book because it’s not the right fit financially is completely fair. But telling me I charge too much? That’s about power. 

Out of budget doesn’t mean overpriced. Affordability is personal. Value is something else entirely.

The only people who’ve ever questioned my pricing? Men.

I’ve never had a woman question my rates – not once in almost a decade. Even if the cost isn’t feasible, I’m met with appreciation for the work I do, and I thank you all for that.

Why am I telling you this? Because I work primarily with young women. This isn’t just about me. 

This is about the deep, systemic belief that women’s work, especially in the arts, especially when self-led, doesn’t hold value, and doesn’t require compensation. We need to show the next generation that doing what you love still deserves to be paid fairly. That being creative doesn’t mean accepting the starving artist myth. And that being a woman doesn’t mean giving your work away out of obligation or the goodness of your heart. 

True worth isn’t measured by price or permission. It’s claiming your own value, unapologetically and without compromise.