Being a female DJ in what is still very much a male-dominated industry

Being a female DJ in what is still very much a male-dominated industry is definitely an interesting experience sometimes. Even now, there are still moments where people seem slightly surprised when the DJ turns up and it isn’t “Dave from Essex”. The funny part is that within about twenty minutes of the dancefloor filling up, nobody cares anymore because suddenly Auntie Sharon is screaming for ABBA while somebody’s uncle is attempting dance moves that should probably require public liability insurance.

Adding being trans into the mix can sometimes feel like unlocking the DJ industry on “expert difficulty mode” as well. There can occasionally be that feeling of needing to prove yourself twice before you’ve even plugged a speaker in. Some people arrive with assumptions, questions, or that slightly confused expression people get when reality doesn’t match whatever stereotype they had in their head. Meanwhile, you’re just there trying to make sure the first dance happens on time and nobody spills Pinot Grigio onto the lighting controller.

In some ways, being different actually becomes a strength. In a world full of identical DJ booths, identical playlists, and DJs called “Dave”, being memorable matters. Clients increasingly want personality, professionalism, reliability, and somebody who can genuinely manage an event properly without turning it into a technical disaster or talking over every song intro like a 1997 radio station.

I do think female DJs often develop a thicker skin and stronger people skills simply because the industry hasn’t always naturally rolled out the red carpet. You learn very quickly how to handle awkward comments, and difficult guests. Meanwhile, you’re secretly operating sound engineer, lighting technician, event coordinator, crowd psychologist, and therapist to drunk guests.

At the end of the day though, the job speaks for itself. If the room is full, the dancefloor is bouncing, the bride and groom are happy, and guests leave saying they had an amazing night, then that’s what people remember. Not labels, not stereotypes, not assumptions, just whether you absolutely smashed the event. And ideally whether you survived another drunken rendition of Sweet Caroline without losing the will to live.