A Prize Born from Silence
In 1991, the Booker Prize—a major literary award in the UK—shortlisted six books. None were written by women. It wasn’t a rare anomaly; it was a symptom. That year, women authored over 60% of novels published in Britain. Yet, not one was recognized. This moment sparked a cultural shift. In 1996, novelist Kate Mosse and others founded the Women’s Prize for Fiction, determined to amplify women’s voices in a male-dominated industry.
Fast-forward to 2025, and the prize has just celebrated its 30th winner: The Safekeep by Dutch writer Yael van der Wouden. The milestone forces us to ask a timely question—in an era of progress, do we still need a women-only prize?
A Cultural Movement, Not Just a Medal
The Women’s Prize has never been about exclusion. It was built to restore balance.
Over the past three decades, the award has:
Recognized 429 women authors with either wins or shortlist placements. Created pathways for new writers through its Discoveries program. Encouraged over 16 million readers to engage with women’s literature. Raised the commercial and critical profile of books that might otherwise be overlooked.
Take Sarah Dunant’s A Spell of Winter, the first winner in 1996. Post-win, her book sales quadrupled. That story has repeated itself for numerous winners, such as Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (Half of a Yellow Sun) and Madeline Miller (Circe), turning literary achievements into bestsellers.
The Data Tells a Hard Truth
Despite the cultural shift, gender bias hasn’t disappeared—it’s simply changed form.
Recent analysis from a new dataset of 15 major British literary prizes, covering over 680 authors, paints a sobering picture. While more women are now being shortlisted, the broader ecosystem remains imbalanced.
Only 20% of men buy books by women, even if those books are topping charts. Male readers are significantly less likely to read or respect books authored by women. Nonfiction is still overwhelmingly male—with over 70% of prizes, reviews, and publishing space dedicated to male authors. Even within prize-winning fiction, books told from male perspectives are more likely to win. Between 2000–2015, not one Pulitzer-winning novel was told exclusively from a woman’s perspective.
Bias in publishing, bookselling, reviewing, and readership continues to mute the impact of women’s voices—even when the writing is groundbreaking.
Expanding the Mission
The Women’s Prize for Fiction has done more than elevate novels. It has sparked a ripple effect across the world:
The Stella Prize in Australia now supports women and non-binary writers in all genres. The Comedy Women in Print Prize celebrates comedic writing by women, often overlooked in literary circles. The Warwick Prize for Women in Translation brings global female voices to English readers. In 2024, the first Women’s Prize for Non-Fiction was launched, further tackling the genre gap.
This global movement underlines a key reality: structural change doesn’t happen by accident. It requires infrastructure. Prizes like these are scaffolding for equity in literature.
Critics and the Counterpoint
Not everyone agrees. Detractors argue that literature should be judged on merit, not gender. Author A.S. Byatt once called the Women’s Prize “sexist.” Journalist Simon Jenkins wrote that it was “embarrassingly unnecessary.”
But let’s consider reality over rhetoric.
In 2023, when researchers analyzed the top 100 bestsellers, they found that books by women got 40% less review coverage. The literary world often rewards “serious” subjects—war, power, legacy—typically handled by male writers, while female-led stories are dismissed as domestic, sentimental, or “chick lit.”
These are not just opinions. They are patterns backed by sales data, publishing trends, and years of prize history.
Until those patterns break on their own, interventions are not just justified—they are necessary.
2025: A Landmark Year
In 2025, the Women’s Prize celebrated a major milestone.
Yael van der Wouden won the 30th prize for The Safekeep, praised for its lyrical style and emotional depth. Bernardine Evaristo, known for her Booker-winning Girl, Woman, Other, was honored with the inaugural “Outstanding Contribution Award” along with a £100,000 grant for future mentorship initiatives.
These wins weren’t just personal triumphs. They were declarations: that women’s stories matter, that diversity deserves recognition, and that structural support continues to be relevant in the literary world.
So, Do We Still Need a Prize for Women?
The short answer: yes.
But the longer answer is more nuanced.
We need the Women’s Prize not because women can’t compete in a fair system—but because the system still isn’t fair. Women’s work still gets reviewed less, paid less, read less, and remembered less.
The Women’s Prize doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It pushes publishers, booksellers, and readers to examine their biases. It demands space where space is often denied. And most importantly, it tells emerging writers: Your stories have value. Your voice has power.
As long as gender bias exists in the literary world—and as long as the stories of half the population continue to fight for the spotlight—we don’t just need the Women’s Prize.
We need more of them.
