The 98th Academy Awards featured more than a few record-breaking moments: Sentimental Value became the first Norwegian film to win the Best International Film Oscar; Jessie Buckley was the first Irish Best Actress victor; and eight awards overall went to horror films, a major breakthrough for an oft-maligned genre. One of those statuettes went to Sinners‘ Autumn Durald Arkapaw for Best Cinematography. It was a well-deserved win— Arkapaw’s beautifully textured and shadowy camerawork is one of many aspects of technical excellence in Ryan Coogler’s genre mashup—and one that made history, becoming the first woman ever to win an Oscar for cinematography. She was also the first woman of color nominated for it, and one of only four women to ever be shortlisted for this award: Her fellow nominees were Rachel Morrison for Mudbound, Ari Wegner for The Power Of The Dog, and Mandy Walker for Elvis. It’s an exceptional achievement for an incredible talent, but it’s also undeniably ridiculous that it took almost a century for the Academy to break this glass ceiling.
The Academy Of Motion Picture Arts And Sciences has never excelled at diversity, as decades of campaigning and membership changes can attest to, but even by their incremental standards, nearly 100 years without a female winner in the category is a baffling statistic. Sadly, it reflects the massive disparities in gender in the cinematography field itself, which has long been a man’s world even as the industry has become (very slowly) more inclusive in other occupations. A report from the Center For The Study Of Women In Television And Film at San Diego State University showed that, in 2025, only “7% of cinematographers working on the top 250 films” of the year were women. By comparison, women directors helmed 13% of that sample.
Even in the earliest days of cinema, when it was a burgeoning artform and it wasn’t unusual to see women directing, producing, and writing movies, cinematography remained the domain of men. Many of the earliest pioneers of the form began their careers as still photographers, which instructed them in the ways of lighting in this new-fangled medium. In the 1920s, as filmmakers became more interested in shots beyond static framing, operating the camera became a more demanding task, both physically and technically. A whole team was born from this, which included camera operators, focus pullers (those whose job is to maintain the focus of the camera), and clapper loaders (the person loading the raw film stock into the camera). In the period of big clunky cameras that required intense physical strength and stamina to wield, it was assumed that only guys were interested in and up for the work.
Indeed, the various roles in cinema at that time were deeply gendered, with women getting the short end of the stick. Editing, for instance, was originally women-dominated because it was seen as drudge work akin to sewing, but once it became seen as a prestigious and creative outlet, men tried to push them out. The commodification of the business, in line with social mores of the time, ensured that Hollywood became a boys’ playground behind the camera, with only a scant few exceptions—and said women were exclusively white in mainstream avenues for decades. Cinematography simply never opened up to women.
In a 2015 New York Times report about the lack of women directors in the film world, Alec Baldwin noted the ”clichéd paramilitary nature” that surrounds the mythos of filmmaking. “They call it shooting. Its groupings are called units. They communicate on walkie-talkies. The director is the general. There is still the presumption that men are better designed for the ferocity and meanness that the job often requires.”
Cinematography has never really shaken this macho attitude. It’s a physical job where people are required to lug around tons of heavy equipment and lead a crew of camerapeople and focus pullers. Cinematographer Neil Oseman wrote in 2015 that it wasn’t uncommon to hear male crew members insist that “women just aren’t interested in that techie stuff,” or derisively ask female camera assistants, “can you even carry [a] heavy camera kit?” Maryse Alberti, the cinematographer on Creed and The Wrestler, told IndieWire in 2016 that she has to assert her authority on every set to let her largely white male camera crews know she’s in charge. “I still feel every day like I have to put on my warrior uniform,” she said. “You have to get respect. There is still a bit of the boys’ club; that’s something you have to deal with.”
Cinematography is a position akin to the second-in-command on set, working closely with the director throughout the course of production to bring to life their aesthetic vision and create the overall look and feel of the movie. It’s a position of creative and industry power, and Hollywood isn’t inclined to keep that door open to women. There are, of course, plenty of examples to the contrary, women cinematographers who have more than proven their capabilities in a physically strenuous job where technical know-how, leadership skills, and upper-body strength are crucial. Consider the work of cinematographers like Ellen Kuras, Reed Morano, Polly Morgan, Agnès Godard, Natasha Braier, and Charlotte Bruus Christensen, to name but a few, as well as all the aforementioned women who were fortunate enough to be Oscar-nominated.
Especially consider Autumn Durald Arkapaw, who had one hell of a task in shooting Sinners. Doing so made her the only woman to shoot a feature on IMAX 65mm and Ultra Panavision 70, all while helping define Sinners‘ distinctive tone, a genre-mashing blend of horror, noir, historical drama, and musical that borrows visual influences from a wide array of sources. It’s a big movie, and Arkapaw made it seem epic without ever losing its emotional intimacy. The already iconic juke joint sequence, which evolves into a kaleidoscopic celebration of Black music past and present, is a balletic act of camera choreography, with a floaty, dreamlike quality that, as Arkapaw explained, allows the audience “to see exactly where the shifts in musical style and cultural representation occur.”
While Arkapaw’s victory has kicked down one particular gate with regards to representation, and will hopefully allow more women in cinematography to be recognized, there’s a lot of work to be done: We’re in the midst of a nonsensical “anti-woke” push among Hollywood power players that has seen a recent decline in women behind the camera in major movie releases. As with any shift towards inclusivity in the entertainment industry, diversifying cinematography will require both an active effort to recruit more voices and allyship from those in positions of power. Ryan Coogler, for example, has consistently worked with female cinematographers, including Morrison and Alberti, and sought out Arkapaw for both Black Panther: Wakanda Forever and Sinners. “We were making a movie side by side the whole time,” Coogler told IndieWire. “I had full trust in [Arkapaw], which is really something special.”
In her acceptance speech, Arkapaw asked all the women in the room to stand up “because I feel like I don’t get here without you guys.” But before she won, she was already paving the way for those who will follow in her footsteps. At a masterclass hosted by the BFI Film Academy earlier this year, Sight & Sound noted how “Arkapaw has motivated a wave of aspiring female cinematographers of color, who look at her and see a reflection, and share her ambition to find the beauty within the edge.” Now that Arkapaw’s made history, the future of cinematography is wide open.
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