In Unsilenced, feminist media scholars Rosemary Lucy Hill, Bianca Fileborn and Catherine Strong believe the accounts of victim-survivors of gender-based violence (GBV), whose music and creativity they analyse in three case studies. While they do use the word “allegedly” in their writing to mitigate the risk of defamation-related litigation from some of the men whose alleged behaviour is discussed, they argue that the music industry itself is abusive because GBV is a structural issue; the very structure of this industry works with other institutions such as the legal system in ways that make it difficult for women artists who have suffered abuse to have their complaints heard or to find justice. Hill, Fileborn and Strong believe the victim-survivors featured in the book because they not only conclude that doing so is a key solution for addressing the problematic “boys club” that lies at the heart of the music industry but also because numerous studies show that false claims of rape and other forms of GBV are very rare (Levitt and Crown Prosecution Service Equality and Diversity Unit 2013; Orchowski et al., 2022, as cited in Hill, Fileborn and Strong, p. 3).
Hill, Fileborn and Strong deliberately selected three women artists—Alice Glass (born Margaret Osborn), pop superstar Kesha (born Kesha Sebert) and classically trained, cross-genre metal artist Lingua Ignota (born Kristin Hayter)—to examine how survivors of GBV fare when they remain in the music industry. They use two main methods to investigate the three case studies: analysis of vocal performances in songs by these three artists and discourse analysis of videos, lyrics, and media by or relating to them. To a lesser extent, they also draw on historical and contemporary examples of GBV involving other artists to address the following research questions (Hill et al. 2025: 3): “How does experiencing GBV shape the musical output of survivors? How are these experiences constructed and represented within their work? What narratives of violence and victimhood are (re)produced or disrupted through survivors’ creative work? In turn, how are these representations themselves shaped and delimited by genre? How can we, the audience, ethically engage with music that has been produced in a context of abuse?” Limitations of their approach in relation to these questions, however, include a lack of primary qualitative data and the exclusive selection of white, cisgender, heterosexual women for the case studies. Albeit they acknowledge this latter limitation and note that other, multiple and intersecting forms of discrimination are equally worthy of investigation and are topics for future research.
Hill, Fileborn and Strong argue that they took an ethically defensible approach to addressing these questions. While, as academics, they benefit from the publication of this book, and using the life experiences of others in this way without their explicit permission may be regarded as extractivist, they argue that refusing to critically engage with the work of these artists could equally be seen as diminishing the significance of their contributions. They explore the way in which their case study artists take different positions in relation to the “survivor” or “victim” identities that are typically made available to women who have experienced GBV. They find that none of their case studies fit these identities neatly, as there is much more nuance to their selected artists’ experiences and how these experiences become manifest through the artistically creative work they analyse. While Kesha discusses beginning to have “fun” again by finding joy and pleasure in the aftermath of GBV, and her artistic identity sits closest to the “survivor” identity which Hill, Fileborn and Strong couch as being neoliberal as it emphasises growth and choice—Glass’s work is discussed as involving more of an exorcism. Then, in contrast to these two cases, they note that Lingua Ignota’s emphasis is more on anger and vengeance. However, they question the extent to which Ignota’s emphasis is, in turn, shaped through the genre norms of metal; rather than the therapeutic goal of healing, Ignota musically relives her trauma. Ultimately, Hill, Fileborn and Strong found that the three artists’ accounts unsettle and weaken the prevailing “victim” or “survivor” narratives to different extents as their stories are full of tension, contradiction and complexity. Rather than depicting a “broken” or passive victim or following a neat survivor trajectory of recovery and redemption, each of their case study artists expressed ambivalence about occupying the roles of “victim” or “survivor”.
Regarding the specific ways in which the music industry itself acts as an abuser, Hill, Fileborn and Strong note the absence of structures in music spaces for complaints to be raised, the glorification of hedonism and sexism in parts of the industry, sexualized marketing tactics, the desire on behalf of artists to maintain a perception of their success and not upset their networks, the legal system (and the weaponisation of it on behalf of perpetrators), “institutional harassment” (Ahmed 2021), artistic ownership/copyright as being patriarchal and the dominant trope of a male genius acting as a puppet-master for a woman artist. Further, constructions of authenticity tend to be dominated by men (i.e. “authentic” men in rock music versus “inauthentic” women in pop music).
Ultimately, by focusing on the post-abuse artistic creativity of these women, Hill, Fileborn and Strong fill a gap in the GBV literature concerning direct control of women’s creative endeavours and a gap in the literature that has emerged post the commencement of the #MeToo movement in 2017 concerning the impact GBV ordeals have on musical creativity itself. Their work is commendable. It is written in clear, accessible language, and a strength of Unsilenced is the positioning of the authors as feminists, fans and scholars in relation to the work of their selected artists. They argue that to control an artist’s creative endeavours in a way that prevents them from realising their artistic vision is “musical abuse” and that women often suffer from such abuse.
The book has an interesting ending. Rather than providing a list of recommendations, or any firm conclusions about what their work means, they instead offer an invitation to engage with music differently and to be open to the potential of doing this, no matter how uncomfortable or difficult this may be. Hill, Fileborn and Strong conclude by offering a politics of feminist listening that discusses listening to music produced by abusive men and ethically listening to the music of abuse survivors. They finally put forth an invitation to listen to, and feel differently in relation to, music, and they particularly extend this to men. And as a man, I accept this invitation.