Stories From The Margins of Music: An Interview and Q&A Series
WRITTEN BY EDITOR-IN-CHIEF, ELINA CARRASCO
Growing up, I dreamed of working in the music industry, but I rarely felt like there was space for me. I grew up making fancams of my favorite TV shows like Teen Wolf and bands like the Arctic Monkeys. I always proudly embraced my silly creative endeavors, despite the judgment it sometimes invited. My vocal admiration of the artists I loved not only shaped who I am as a creative but also created me friendships and connections that have become lasting support systems that continue to enrich my life. It wasn’t until I picked up a camera and ventured into music photography that I built my path into the music industry and began to feel like I found my place.
Through my lens, I’ve met incredible artists and creatives—people like Chelsea King, Yasmeen Nasir, Kashmala Asad, and Lauren Stephens. They are women who made me feel seen and supported, they remind me that this space is not just for the few—it’s for all of us. This project is my way of giving back, a celebration of the voices and visions that have too often been overlooked. By sharing their stories, I hope to amplify the experiences of marginalized voices in the music industry and inspire other young women to remember there’s a place for them too.
Yasmeen Nasir on Redefining Herself as a Songwriter in R&B Pop
Yasmeen Photographed by Elina Carrasco
E: Can you give me a little intro about yourself, the kind of music you write, and your journey into music? Maybe share what inspired you to pursue it.
Y: Sure! My name is Yasmeen. I'm a singer-songwriter and artist based in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. I write original music and have a band called The Daydreams. We’ve rebranded, and now we’re a seven-piece band with horns and everything. They’re amazing and perform my original songs. I’ve been performing around DFW for about three and a half years.
As for the kind of music I write, it’s a mix of pop and R&B.
E: How did you get started in music? You can go as far back as you’d like, and if there are any inspirations that stand out, feel free to share.
Y: For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved music. I think I first became aware of it when I was around three or four years old, listening to NSYNC and Y2K pop on the radio. My parents are immigrants, so my mom didn’t know much about music when she moved to the U.S. She just listened to whatever was on the radio, and I’d sing along in the car. She’d take videos of me singing, even though I’d beg her to stop!
I didn’t take music seriously until fifth grade. Before that, I dabbled with piano (though I hated my piano teacher) and tried sports, but I never had formal music or vocal training. I just loved singing in my room with karaoke videos. My first real music inspirations were Selena Gomez and Demi Lovato. I remember begging my mom to buy me their CDs so I could sing along.
In fifth grade, I decided to try a talent show. My mom was nervous—she said, “You don’t even sing in front of us!”—but I was determined. I ended up singing Can I Have This Dance from High School Musical 3. Funny story: I originally planned to sing The Climb by Miley Cyrus, but another girl threw a fit, so I switched songs. That performance was the first time I realized, Oh, I really like this.
In middle school, I did more talent shows. By high school, shows like Glee were a big deal, and I was inspired to try out for my school’s show choir. I was terrified, but I ended up being the only eighth grader accepted. That’s when I was introduced to dancing and singing together—it completely blew my mind.
I didn’t join a traditional choir until my senior year of high school. I wanted to challenge myself to read sheet music, so I joined the mixed choir, which was super competitive in Texas. That experience helped me realize I could harmonize naturally by ear.
When I went to college, my major was mechanical engineering, and I wasn’t involved in music at first. It was tough—I felt like something was missing. Eventually, I joined the non-music major choir at UT Arlington and made some amazing friends.
Around that time, Pitch Perfect came out, and I learned about real collegiate a cappella competitions. I auditioned for a new pop a cappella group on campus, and it changed my life. I was the only non-music major in the group, which was intimidating, but I loved it. We ended up competing at the ICCA finals in New York City, where we performed in front of Ben Bram, the manager of Pentatonix.
During college, I learned to arrange music, choreograph performances, and even became president of the a cappella group. We were preparing for another competition in 2020, but everything shut down because of COVID. It was heartbreaking, especially since it was my senior year.
After graduating and starting my job, I felt lost without music. One day, I decided to try writing my own songs. I had a keyboard from my childhood and sat down to see what I could create. That’s how I wrote my first song, Pure Bliss, which I released in November 2020.
From there, I started working with producers and eventually formed a band. My first performance was at a small restaurant in Mansfield, and even though it was just for a few friends, it solidified that music was what I wanted to pursue.
Through my a cappella community, I connected with musicians in the local scene. By 2021, venues were reopening, and I started booking gigs, including one at Inclusion Coffee in Arlington. That’s where I performed with the early version of my band, which included some amazing musicians who are still with me today.
E: You kind of touched on this a little bit, but one of my next questions was about your mom and growing up with immigrant parents. Beyond what you’ve already shared, was that a big part of the music you were creating? Could you talk more about how your background and your parents influenced your music? Also, you’re from Afghanistan, right? Did that play a role in your music now? If you could expand on that, that’d be great.
Y: That’s a good question. And pardon me, I don’t want to say "disappointed," but let me start with my parents.
My parents divorced when I was a kid. My dad was kind of in and out—he was always busy. I’d maybe see him once a year or so. He didn’t really know me growing up, so when I’d share things with him, he’d be like, “Oh, okay.”
I do have to give him a little credit, though. I visited him once when he was living in California for work. I was there for the summer, and since he was working a lot, he didn’t really know what to do with me. A relative—well, she wasn’t really a relative, but I called her Aunt Christie—was the one who realized I loved to sing. She’d hear me singing along to my Miley Cyrus Hannah Montana CDs, and she encouraged my dad to put me in voice lessons.
It wasn’t really his idea, but he agreed. So, I took some voice lessons, though looking back, they weren’t the best. They focused more on stage presence than actual vocal training. I’d sing a song, and the instructor would say, “Okay, try this.” It wasn’t super structured, but it was something. My dad didn’t come to my performances or talent shows, though, and he didn’t really have much of an opinion about it.
My mom, on the other hand, was supportive in her own way. In Afghan culture, music is celebrated—it’s a big part of the culture. My grandmother sang lullabies to my mom, and my mom sang them to me. But at the same time, if you’re a woman trying to sing or perform, it can be viewed negatively because of religious or cultural expectations. Some scholars interpret music as prohibited, while others don’t, so it’s complicated.
Growing up, it wasn’t seen as ideal for a girl to want to be a singer. You were expected to aim for a career like a doctor or engineer. That was the mentality. But my mom, despite voicing her concerns, supported me. She came to every single show I had and sat in the front row. She sacrificed so much to come to this country—she was in her early 20s, divorced, with no family here except for me. She wanted the best for me, and I understand that now as I’ve gotten older.
But I’ve also learned that it’s important to listen to your kids and support their creative dreams because it makes them happy.
As for how my culture influences my music now, I’d love to integrate it more. But if I were to do that right away, I feel like I might lose a lot of my audience. There aren’t many Afghan pop singers in English—I can’t even name one. The closest I’ve seen is an Iranian R&B singer, Snoh Aalegra, whose music I love and draw influence from. I even covered one of her songs on my album.
Growing up, I listened to a lot of pop and R&B music. That was my bread and butter. I didn’t fully appreciate Afghan folk songs as a kid because they felt old-fashioned, but as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to see their beauty.
One of my songs, Mommy’s Lullaby, is an ode to my mom and dad. It’s rooted in Afghan culture, based on a traditional lullaby that’s been passed down for generations. Writing it helped me process my dad’s absence and the divorce. Even though my mom did everything she could to fill that void, having a parent who’s not really around does shape you.
In the future, I’d love to incorporate more Afghan influences into my music, including traditional instruments. I’ve seen Iranian artists in Canada and the U.S. blend their culture beautifully into their work, and I want to do the same for Afghans. It’s not common right now, but I hope to change that.
E: Do you feel there’s any kind of hidden pressure that you experience to represent younger girls or women like you? Does it ever weigh on you to be the one to bring Afghan influence into pop? Is that something you think about?
Y: I would say there’s a little bit of pressure—mostly from my mom. She wants me to lean more toward Afghan music. Essentially, she sees it as an entire industry in itself, like modernized Afghan music, which is good. I’m not saying it’s not good, but it’s not something I typically listen to all the time. My mom has expressed that it could be a good stepping stone in that industry. She thinks I could gain fans through it, and it might be easier than trying to break into English pop music, you know?
So, I feel pressure to integrate Afghan music into my work, but I’m not a native speaker. I can understand about 50% of the language, Pashto or Dari, and I can speak maybe 15%. It’s this constant tug-of-war between being American, English, or, you know, Afghan. I’ve always been a mix of both. Obviously, a lot of my music leans more toward American pop or R&B styles because that’s what I grew up listening to. Afghan music wasn’t something I played all the time or felt passionate about growing up.
I do feel a little bit of pressure, but I think it’s more internal. I put it on myself. I tell myself, “Oh, I really need to do this,” or “I have to do this,” especially because of my mom’s support. I want to do what makes her happy. If that means recording a few covers of Afghan songs that are popular in the Afghan community, of course, I want to do that for her. But I also want to do it for me—to prove to myself that I can. It’s about showing that I don’t have to fit into one box. So, yeah, it’s a constant tug-of-war.
E: Yeah, interesting. The reason I’m doing this project and feel so passionate about it is because of the patriarchal structure in the music industry. As a woman in music, I constantly want to pull my hair out. There’s always a man who thinks he’s better, who has better gear, or whatever. I could go on and on. That’s why I feel so strongly about uplifting women’s voices in music. Have you had any experiences like that where you’ve just wanted to punch a man in the face?
Y: It’s funny you bring that up because I’ve felt strongly about it ever since I started. I look at lineups and see who’s performing, especially in Austin, because I know a few bands there. And it’s mostly men. I’ll see these lineups and think, “All-male band, all-male band, all-male band... not a single woman.” It’s crazy because I know Austin is full of talented female musicians and vocalists. I follow some of them on social media and wonder, “Where are their gigs?” They have gigs, but why aren’t they on these more prominent lineups?
It’s frustrating because you see this week after week. I get it—some acts are popular—but why is that the standard? You can’t find a single band with even one female musician? That’s wild to me.
In Dallas-Fort Worth, I know more female musicians than male ones, probably because of the a cappella community I was in during college. Some of those female vocalists are incredible—like Kaash Paige, who I actually went to college with before she started her music career. So, I know there are plenty of female artists out there, even though female musicians, especially instrumentalists, are harder to come by.
Personally, I’ve made a conscious effort to collaborate with other female artists. Almost every show I’m part of includes at least one other woman-fronted act. I think that’s important because women often get pitted against each other. I’ve experienced that myself. It’s like, “Why can’t we all just get along?” It’s frustrating, but I try to foster unity wherever I can.
Even in my band, which does have a lot of men, I always make sure there’s female representation, whether it’s a background vocalist or someone playing keys. That’s important to me. I just wish I saw more of that in Austin, especially since it’s considered the “music capital” of Texas.
Booking shows there has been a struggle for me. I probably will continue to struggle unless I connect with some of these all-male bands, which I’ve started to do. But yeah, I’d love to see more female representation. It’s something we need.
E: Me too. It's like, ugh, man, it's very frustrating. It's hard to articulate, which is why I try to have these conversations, 'cause it's just white-hot rage. It's embedded in everything. Are there any barriers for women in music, other than that, like booking and representation? Are there any barriers that you think women in music face that are overlooked? Like, I think it's pretty obvious to anybody that there's a discrepancy between men and women in music. But is there something you think most people don't really see or think about when it comes to those challenges?
Y: I don't think it's because I'm a girl or a woman or anything like that. I think it has more to do with, especially in today's age, how well-known you are. That’s a barrier I've noticed. Again, I don't think it has anything to do with being a woman, but it's hard to get into some of these bigger-name venues. Even if they put on local shows, if you're not at a certain threshold—which, half of me understands from a marketing perspective. You want your shows to do well; you want to sell lots of tickets. But another part of me feels like it sucks to rely so heavily on social media and followings.
You know what I mean? It sucks because there are amazing bands, vocalists, and musicians in the area, but they’re under 1,000 followers or below a certain threshold. I know venues do this because they’re trying to make shows successful. But there’s something consistently frustrating about the way talent isn’t prioritized. You can be the most talented person in the room, but if you're not consistently promoting yourself on social media, it's hard to do well. That’s why I go so hard on promoting. But there are bands and artists in the DFW area that I think should be bigger than they are. And then there are musicians in the DFW scene who have the following and attention, but I don’t think it matches their level of talent.
I hate saying that; it makes me feel ugly. But it’s true. I see the same thing in photography. You can have these incredible women, nonbinary people, and artists, but the band is going to book a man or take a man on tour—always someone they know. It feels like it’s about knowing the right people, not about talent or skill. It’s networking. And there are artists I’ve seen who don’t sing well live but somehow get booked at amazing venues like Trees. Trees is a dream gig! I would love to perform there. I think my band is amazing, and at the end of the day, I’ll admit I’m an average singer, and I’ve accepted that. But it’s frustrating because some of my friends are the most spectacular musicians, and they’re so talented. But if you don’t know the right people, it’s really hard to get where you need to be.
Again, there are people out there who don’t have the same work ethic. I’ll say it: they’re putting in the work, but talent should matter more. I respect the craft so much. It’s just difficult to see people with bigger names or followings booking the best gigs while it takes opportunities away from people who are more deserving.
E: I agree. Don’t feel bad. I feel the same way sometimes. It’s frustrating when it’s not about the craft but about connections. So, what do you think fans or supporters could do to better amplify your voice and work? How can they combat this, even on a smaller scale?
Y: Coming out to shows. Buying tickets. If you're willing to spend God knows how much on Ticketmaster to see your favorite artist on a random Tuesday, you could pay $10 to see a local show. You’ll not only hear one artist but might be exposed to several others. I can’t tell you how many times people have stumbled upon me at a show, stayed for the set, and then told me they discovered something new. Supporting local artists is so important.
I try my best to support my friends and stay for entire shows, even when I’m the opener. It’s common courtesy, and you want to listen to other bands. Buying merch, even if it’s just a sticker or a pin, makes a difference. If you’re spending $45 on a T-shirt at a major concert, you can spend $10 on a CD or something from a local artist. And if you can’t do that, support their music online. Listen to their music, share it on social media, or tip them if you can. Even small efforts matter.
People underestimate how incredible the local music scene can be. The quality of music and the level of talent are amazing. You’d be surprised at what you’d discover just by paying $5 or $10 to attend a local show.
E: I agree. You’re not average, by the way. Don’t say that. But you’re preaching to the choir here. What’s a show or interaction you’ve had that made you feel empowered?
Y: Oh, that’s a good question. Two experiences come to mind, both at the State Fair of Texas. It was a long but fun day, and I’d love to do it again. The first experience was with two best friends. They came up to me after my set and said they were just walking by, saw me performing, and decided to stay for the whole thing. They were geeking out and told me they looked me up on Instagram. One of them was a STEM major, and the other was an English major. They were so sweet, and they asked me to sign their State Fair maps. They even wanted my entire band to sign them and took pictures with us. They told me they wanted to come to my next show, and it was such a wholesome moment.
The second experience was with a little boy, maybe three or four years old. His mom brought him over, and he was really shy but eventually said, “I really liked your music. I like music too.” He told me he wanted to play guitar. I encouraged him and told him he could do whatever he wanted. He was so sweet and seemed in awe, like I was a superstar. His mom said he loved the original music I performed, not even the covers. Moments like that warm my heart because it’s not just about me loving music—it’s about the impact it has on others. If my music inspires someone, even in a small way, that’s what matters most to me.
E: That’s beautiful. Okay, one last question. If you could give advice to little you, or to a kid like that boy at your show, what would you say?
Y: Gosh, at that age, I was scared to voice any opinions. It often felt like my life was already planned out for me. I’d tell little me, “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to turn out just fine. Keep marching to the beat of your own drum. Don’t let anyone tell you who to be or what to do. Your opinion matters. Speak out and don’t be scared.”
Growing up, I learned that you can’t please everyone, and that’s okay. You have to do what’s right for you. My life could’ve been so different coming from two immigrant parents and a country where women are silenced and shunned. But I’ve been so lucky, and I’m grateful for every opportunity I’ve had. I love what I do, and I’m not giving up anytime soon. If my journey inspires others or makes them happy, that’s all that matters.
Chelsea King on Shredding Expectations as a Female Guitarist in a Male Dominated Genre
Chelsea King Photographed by Elina Carrasco
E: I just want to hear a little bit about your experience as a woman in the industry. Go ahead and introduce yourself.
C: I'm Chelsea King. Entertainment is such an interesting industry for everyone, but especially for women. Living in Nashville, it definitely feels like country music—and really, all music—is very male-dominated. It’s hard to even get your voice heard sometimes. When I was a little bit younger, that really frustrated me, but now I’m in a place where I think, “You know what? Who cares? I’m doing this because I love it.” If I have to work a little harder than some people, it’s just going to make me better.
E: I love that. So, when you started music, tell me a little bit about how it all began. What inspired you to pursue music at an age when everything can feel so daunting?
C: Yeah I started playing piano when I was five. To me, it was an escape from the world. There’s nothing like piano; it’s so easy to get into a flow state. That led to writing songs when I was around 12 or 13. Then, at 14, I joined a rock band. It was an all-girls group, and it was really fun. At that time, it didn’t feel like how Nashville feels now, where everything is so professional and male-dominated. Back then, it just felt like we were having a good time. Now, the more involved I get in the industry, the more I see how much of a “man’s world” it is—in country music and even in pop. When you look at these pop stars, you realize their teams are often made up of older men writing sexualized songs for them. It’s weird and gross when you think about it. But as a teenager in an all-girls rock band, I never felt that way. It was just about having fun.
E: What kind of changes do you think we need to make to shift away from that? I know it’s a big, broad question, but even small changes—what do you think could help?
C: That’s such a tough question. I think it comes down to women supporting women. Look at Taylor Swift—her fan base is primarily women, and when women rally, they rally. She’s filling stadiums with 70,000 people. If we could channel that energy all the time, I feel like the world would be a magical place. But sometimes, it feels like women get super competitive with each other instead of lifting each other up. In male-dominated industries like music, we need to have each other’s backs. If we did that, we’d be more powerful than anyone. Again, just look at Taylor Swift.
E: I feel so strongly about the “fangirl-to-music-professional pipeline.” There’s so much power in groups of women who care deeply about something. They can enact change. It’s just about finding ways to redirect that passion into tangible action.
C: Yeah. And you don’t see men fangirling the way women do… or do you?
E: Well, I always compare football fans to fangirls. They’re just fanboys for sweaty men tackling each other. It’s the same thing.
C: That… I never thought about that.
E: Right? I’ve camped out for shows before, and sometimes I feel this weird guilt, like it’s embarrassing. But it’s not! People camp out for football games or Black Friday sales. It’s all the same thing—people passionate about what they love.
C: That’s so true. But there’s this weird double standard. It’s like, why do women get painted so negatively for being fans?
E: By men. Yup. Exactly.
E: What kind of advice do you wish you had growing up as a woman in music? What do you wish someone had told or taught you?
C: I had these mental barriers when I was younger. I thought music production wasn’t something I could do—that only men did that. Even playing lead guitar felt off-limits. Overcoming those barriers in my head was so hard. I wish I had grown up in a more creative environment that pushed me in that direction. A lot of men are encouraged to explore production or lead guitar as kids, which gives them a strong foundation. I wish I’d had more influences and role models—women in production or lead guitar—to look up to. There still, I feel like, not a lot.
E: I totally agree. So, if you didn’t have that inspiration growing up, who do you look up to now?
C: Oh, that’s tough. I feel like Miley Cyrus has been a major inspiration for me. Her attitude and how she approaches the world are incredible. The media and society have tried so many times to tear her down, but she’s never let it get to her. Even during her “Wrecking Ball” era, she was doing her own thing, and people were trying to make her look crazy. It was so messed up. Now, she’s one of the most badass women in the world.
E: Absolutely. Growing up around the same age as her, it was hard to see how people talked about her. It’s so discouraging, especially when you don’t have many examples of women in production or lead guitar to look up to. Miley’s resilience is inspiring.
C: The media has been so destructive to women for so long. Look at what they did to Amy Winehouse. Did you see the new Back to Black movie?
E: I haven’t. How was it?
C: It was pretty good. It like mostly focused on her relationship, though. I wish it had focused more on her music more. But it showed how the media constantly attacked her and trying to make her look bad. Britney Spears, too. I remember one of the most damaging things as a kid was seeing a People magazine cover that said, “Did Britney get fat?” or something like that. It was so damaging to see as a little girl. I can’t even imagine how horrible it was for Britney.
E: Absolutely. That makes me think about how you’ve dealt with similar experiences online. You don’t have to get into it, but the Internet can be so evil.
C: It’s absolutely evil. It doesn’t matter if it’s on a smaller scale; but it doesn't matter.
E: It does matter and it sucks just the same. How do you stay resilient? Where do you draw strength from when ignoring it isn’t enough?
C: With the whole TikTok scandal over the summer, I literally had to hire my little sister to manage my TikTok. I don’t open it anymore. I’ll post things, and she deals with it. I literally can’t even look at the comment section without having a panic attack. So I don't know if I've fully learned how to deal with it, but it’s still a journey, but I’m taking a break from TikTok for now because it scares me. I even unlinked my Instagram from it so I wouldn’t get any follows there. It’s helped a lot.
E: That’s a good step. The Internet really dehumanizes people. It’s like people forget there’s a real person behind the screen.
C: I try to tell myself that these negative commenters are just bots. It’s the only way I can deal with it. None of these people would say these things to your face.
E: It’s like being online removes their humanity. I just remind myself that their opinions don’t matter.
C: Exactly. I would never leave a negative comment on someone’s page. It’s unbelievable how brave people get online.
E: That's awful. I'm sorry, but they never know the full story and they like to pretend that they do. Um so again with people and their opinions, what are some barriers women in music face that people often overlook? Everyone with a brain can see the gender imbalance, but what else do you think goes unnoticed?
C: I think it’s more about the little things. Like, being a woman in a studio full of men, they don’t ask for your opinion—they ask the other men. You have to be pretty vocal, like, “Yeah I produce music too, and I know what I’m talking about by the way.” It’s not always intentional sexism, but it’s ingrained. In country music, for example, it’s almost impossible to get a record deal unless you’re a white man. I don’t think labels are actively saying, “We need white men.” It’s more like, “Morgan Wallen is successful so we need more Morgan Wallen.”
E: Yeah, yeah. I definitely agree. I feel like there are a lot of parallels in the photography world, from what I know. It’s the same thing—the little comments, the way they look at you in the photo pit, the lack of spatial awareness, stuff like that. I think you only really catch it if you’re paying attention.
C: It’s so frustrating. It used to make me so angry sometimes—and it still does—but the way I’ve learned to deal with it is by staying silent because, in the end, they’ll see the product and realize it’s better than theirs.
E: Yep, I love that. Like, “We’re in the same photo pit. You’re better than me.” I totally get that. I’m the same way. How do you think your audience—or audiences in general—can best support your work or women’s work? What can fans do to uplift your voice and your music?
C: Honestly, I think just going to shows—showing up in person—and maybe just, like yeah, I don't know supporting artists online.
E: Yes, exactly. I had a conversation with my sister about this. It’s not just with music but also with the competitiveness we talked about earlier. Like, I have friends who call themselves my friends, but they don’t even like my Instagram posts. It’s silly, but those small things matter to someone who is sharing their art, even if in the bigger picture it shouldn't matter.
C: It’s weird with Instagram lately. I’ll go on my feed—the normal feed where I used to see my friends—and it’s all memes now. I don’t see any of my friends’ posts unless I actively go to their pages. The algorithms are crazy. Sometimes I only see your photography on your story, and I’ll think, “Oh, that’s so cool,” but it never shows up on my feed anymore. It’s so frustrating.
E: Yeah, the algorithms really are making it harder for artists to get exposure, it’s annoying. Okay, let’s end on a high note. Can you share a moment—or a few moments—from your career where you felt empowered as a woman?
C: Oh, yeah. Playing Space Prom was a big one. It’s this Nashville event hosted by Nordista Freeze. He asked me to play a couple of years ago, and it was such a high moment for me. I was like, “Wow, this is so cool.” Most people in Nashville show up to it, so it felt incredible to be part of that. I loved that
E: That looked so fun! I hope there’s another one soon because I want to go.
C: I think he’s brought it to Atlanta and other places too. It’d be awesome if he brought it to Austin.
E: That would be incredible. Do you have anything else you’d like to share?
C: I think it’s so interesting. I always thought this was just a music industry issue, but it’s crazy to hear it’s the same in photography. It sucks. I think it’s so important for you to keep doing what you’re doing as a woman in journalism and photography because someday, there’s going to be a little girl looking for someone to look up to in this field—and you can be that person. It’s so important for you to keep pushing through and fighting the bullshit.
E: I feel the same way. Thank you so much for saying that. You’ve definitely been a woman I look up to in the industry. Having your support, online and in person, means the world to me. I really appreciate it.
C: Same here.
Shifting Focus: Kashmala Asad on Fangirl Culture and Community
Photos by Kashmala Asad
Tell us a bit about your upbringing and your intro to the world of music.
Growing up as a woman of color in south Louisiana, I was typically excluded from a lot of my white peers - especially in elementary and middle school. I feel like, in that time period of your life, that’s when you’re being introduced to interests and hobbies that sort of form the way you develop as you get older. I was the only South Asian student in my class, at a very religious, wealthy, and white school, and I wasn’t able to healthily explore my culture and identity in a place that looked down on me for being different. Music became my sanctuary at that point. I found myself spending a lot of time on my own, listening to music and daydreaming. Looking back now, I realize that the isolation I faced at the time had given me the opportunity for self-discovery. Music had turned into the foundation of my creativity and strength, and kept me together when I had felt disconnected from the external world around me.
Share a bit about your path into music photography.
Music has always been a huge part of who I was. I’m currently in my senior year of studying Communications and Media with a minor in Arts and Design, and had known for years before then that I wanted to seek out this degree to work in the music industry. Still, it took a year into college to realize that working in the industry wasn’t out of reach until I had a degree, like I had thought. Anyone can start somewhere! I started with local metal shows in the area, pestered local bands with the offer of free photography, and spent a lot of time on Lightroom. That experience, along with the support and inspiration from my best friends, was what gave me the courage to start an independent online music magazine. With that, came opportunities to shoot shows outside of Lafayette, with artists that took up venues larger than I had been used to - though I still adore my local artists and am grateful for the opportunities they opened up for me. Concerts have taken me far outside of Louisiana. It took a lot of self advocating, and a lot of rejections, but the experience is worth all of it.
Were there any specific moments, artists, or concerts that made you think, ‘I want to be part of this’?
My Chemical Romance, in September of ‘22, was what solidified it all for me. I had been listening to them since I was 9 years old in 2012, and had been unable to see them live before they broke up. I saw them in Houston when I was 19, a few weeks after I had photographed my first local show back home, and could feel my brain rewiring. Seeing an artist I had loved since I was so young, who nearly formed the foundation of who I was as a kid, after I had started playing around with the idea of working in the industry .. that was what made me realize I had to stick with it, no matter what.
Have you ever felt underestimated or overlooked in the music industry because of your identity or your ‘fangirl’ background? How did you overcome that?
I used to. I think it’s incredibly important to recognize that professionalism and being a fangirl are not mutually exclusive. Having a background as a fan does not diminish your work as a professional in the music industry. I feel like, in terms of producing your art, that background only makes your work shine. I honestly believe that you can see the photographer’s genuine love and passion through their work.
What’s a misconception people have about fangirls in the industry that you think deserves to be challenged?
When starting out, I felt as though I wasn’t taken seriously if people knew I was such a fangirl. I think that’s stupid. There are a lot of men in the industry look down on their female peers, diminishing them to groupies or someone who’s taking advantage of their job for personal gain. It’s misogynistic, disgusting, and just incorrect. Fangirls power music - their passion and influence are the driving forces behind the music industry’s success. Who is going to support these artists if not their dedicated fans? When you have someone behind the camera who is in love with music, who is passionate about their work and wants to truly capture the live magic of the artist they’re working with, it’s palpable in their work. The best photos I take are when I adore the artist, and know how to photograph their presence in a way that is true to who they are as creatives. (this answers the next question too i think)
Photography is often about who you know and the access you have. Have you faced any challenges in getting your foot in the door due to lack of connections or opportunities?
I definitely have. I currently live in Lafayette, LA, so sometimes I feel like I’m moving in slow motion towards the door. Still, I have met and worked with very kind people in the industry who, even when I was just starting out, gave me a chance. Because of them, I was able to not only practice my craft and gain new opportunities, but also network with other photographers, publicists, and artists’ teams to expand my bubble. There will never be a point where you don’t face challenges in the industry, especially as a woman of color, but it will never truly stop you from succeeding. In fact, working harder has made me better at what I do, and has only made me more grateful for the opportunities I make for myself.
Have you ever found solidarity with other photographers or artists in similar positions? How has that influenced your work and career?
Of course. No one is going to have my back more than the women I meet when I’m working. Feeling that sense of community helps me move forward. Having a best friend who works in the same industry, who I am always able to reach for ideas, opinions, and support, really keeps the world turning. Being able to learn knew things from the women I work with, inspiring each other, and guiding eachother - that’s what helps me grow as a creative and as a person.
How do you navigate the tension between competition and collaboration in a space that often pits photographers against each other?
We have to remember that we are all in the same boat and need to create a safe space for each other, especially in spaces where we are pitted against eachother. Especially as women. Comparison is the thief of joy. We need to lift each other up and push each other forward when others want us to fall down and back.
How do you keep yourself motivated when faced with setbacks or instances of inequity in the industry?
My passion, honestly…and my stubbornness. I truly love what I do. I love live music, I love going to concerts, I love taking photos, sifting through them, editing for hours, playing with lighting and coloring. I want to always be better at what I do, each time I do it. I want to do it more. Setbacks and inequity is hard, and it’s disappointing, but you have to remember that you are doing this for yourself and no one else. It’s disheartening at times, but for every setback, there’s a much greater opportunity waiting for you. There was a point where I hadn’t been approved to photograph an artist in six months, and then I photographed one of my favorite artists since 2014. Having someone come up to me at a show and say “I’m so excited to see your pictures!” makes it worth it. There is always an opportunity out there, even in the mud of rejections.
What do you hope people take away when they see your work?
I want people to look at my photography and feel the love and passion I have for live music. I hope it shines through my work. I hope it makes people want to pick up a camera and go to a local metal show in a cramped bar downtown and smile as they walk out with a headache. I hope it inspires little brown girls who hardly see women who look like us in the industry, who have always been more creative than technical but aren’t sure how to channel it yet. I want people to see my posts and think, ‘What a fangirl’.
Lauren Stephens on Facing Barriers in the Photo Pit
Photos by Lauren Stephens
Tell us a bit about your upbringing and your intro to the world of music.
I grew up with a music-loving dad who put me on all his favorite bands. I remember listening to whatever CDs I could get my hands on and letting my dad use his iPod to buy music. Around 5th grade, I became a hardcore Taylor Swift & One Direction fan, which became much of my personality. Nothing brought me joy quite like music. When I was 13, I went to my first concert (One Direction), and you could say the rest was history – I became hooked on going to shows.
Share a bit about your path into music photography.
I’ve always loved taking pictures. I got my first cheap camera when I was about 11/12 and took pictures of just about everything. As I grew up, I did more portrait and landscape work as a hobby. I remember every time I went to a concert, I’d see the photographers in the pit and wonder how I could get there. I loved trying to take the best photos I could on my iPhone and would spend way too long editing them the next day, and I wished I could take a go at doing it professionally, but had no idea how.
My sophomore year of college, I took the leap and reached out to a couple local bands playing at a frat house and offered to take pictures of them for free. I had the best time.When I saw that UT’s music publication, Afterglow, was looking for photographers, I applied with those photos. I got in, and with the support of a publication, was able to shoot more and more shows and gain all the experience I have now.
Were there any specific moments, artists, or concerts that made you think, ‘I want to be part of this’?
Honestly, the moment I went to my first concert, I knew I wanted to be a part of music in some way. I really just knew I wanted to be around it as much as I could be. Music was always my greatest love, and I felt an indescribable sense of joy and comfort in going to concerts that I didn’t get anywhere else.
What challenges did you face as someone with marginalized identities trying to break into the industry? How did you navigate them?
Honestly, I feel very lucky that I’ve been surrounded by some amazing women since the beginning of my journey in the industry. The majority of teams I’ve worked on have been primarily women, and it’s been really inspiring to experience that.
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