Women in Kenya’s music industry describe safety as a form of hidden labor, one they are forced to manage themselves across studios, meetings, and writing camps, as formal industry protections remain scarce.
Building a neutral space
Kenyan singer-songwriter Karun opened Embe Studio in Nairobi to create the kind of neutral space she wished had existed when she was starting out. “I found myself in so many unsafe situations just having to rely on other people to record,” she said. Many studios were located in men’s homes or bedrooms, where comfort could quickly give way to something more precarious. “If you bring a young girl there at night, that could end up in a really unsafe situation.” Her studio, she explained, is “a neutral space. It’s not someone’s house, and there are other creatives around.”
The work of managing risk
Faiza “Fay” Hersi, who manages Xenia Manasseh and runs Soul Headquarters, said a significant part of her job involves pushing back, asking questions, and managing her client’s access because she knows how differently women are treated. “Whenever [Xenia Manasseh travels], for example, I need verification of where she’s going, who’s gonna be there, [and] the ratio between men and women there for me to determine whether she can go on her own,” Hersi said. “People will meet her and be like, ‘Hey, I have a business proposal …’ I can never let her go for those meetings alone.”
In one case, after an invitation to a multi-day writing camp, Hersi requested accommodation details and the attendee list. She saw that Manasseh would be the only woman. “Because she’s the only female, I’m not comfortable, and she’s not comfortable coming to the camp unless I come with her,” she recalled telling organizers. She noted that this is not a calculation she would have to make for a male artist. “This is just the reality of being a woman.”
The duo We Are Nubia, made up of Gloria Munga and Maggie Atieno, said newer artists often rely heavily on reputation when choosing collaborators. “Some of it isn’t in our control,” Munga said. “But we really take safety measures by working with people who have a good track record… people who feel safe to us.”
Emotional and mental health costs
The issue extends beyond Kenya. Women across East Africa described spaces where unequal power dynamics can quickly create openings for manipulation and exploitation. Gabrielle Chams, the sister and manager of Tanzania’s Abigail Chams, said safety is a top priority, shaped by past experiences of long nights in studios where they were often the only women present. The deepest damage, she said, is often emotional.
“Constantly having to prove yourself, set boundaries, and navigate uncomfortable or unsafe situations can lead to anxiety, self-doubt, and burnout,” Gabrielle Chams said. “On the other hand, compromising your values for the sake of opportunity can result in guilt, loss of identity, and long-term emotional distress.” She added: “the mental health impact on young women in music is significant and not spoken about enough.”
Studio power dynamics
Even once work begins inside the studio, the risks do not necessarily end. Multiple interviewees said women artists still deal with producers who withhold stems, change terms after the work is done, or use their technical expertise to belittle them and assert greater control over the process. Karun, who holds a production degree from Berklee College of Music, said that same imbalance shapes who gets recognized as a producer. Women’s creative direction is often minimized or credited elsewhere. “It’s also usually [a] backlash when you do claim [producer credit],” she said.
Data from the USC Annenberg Inclusion Initiative’s annual Inclusion in the Recording Studio study underscores that disparity. In 2024, women held just 5.9% of producing credits, and across the study’s 13-year sample, 93.3% of songs were made without a single woman producer. Though the study is U.S.-focused, it mirrors concerns voiced by women in East Africa about who is recognized as a producer.
Hersi described a recent session in which a producer ran Manasseh’s vocals through an AI tool without her consent, then attempted to present the practice as “standard.” When challenged, the producer did not take it well. “So it’s just like that power play,” Hersi said. “It’s just very misogynistic in the room, if that makes sense.”
