Every year, the tech industry produces another round of award ceremonies aimed at celebrating women and underrepresented groups. They arrive dressed in the language of empowerment—shining a light, giving a platform, amplifying voices. But a closer look into the logistics of some of these awards reveals the need for nominees to buy their time in the spotlight.
At the Women in Tech Excellence Awards, finalists are offered packages: £8,495 for platinum seating, branding, and Champagne; £7,495 for gold; £6,795 for silver. What should be an honour quietly morphs into a purchase. Recognition is sold.
This post squarely takes aim at the industry surrounding extortionate paid awards that exploit their position, and has absolutely nothing to do with the hard earned credit that nominees are rightly getting for their contributions to our industry. There are many awards that do present inclusive offerings that support these communities in more authentic ways.
I’ve written before about the difference between performative gestures and meaningful allyship. Real allyship is slow, structural work: rewriting policies, shifting opportunity, opening space where power is held. It cannot be condensed into a fancy dinner. And yet, awards like these dress the part. They imply that visibility is empowerment, while tying that visibility to whoever can afford the cost. It becomes a back-patting exercise at the expense of the community they claim to support.
That’s not to say awards are not valuable, because they absolutely are. External validation can be incredibly powerful, as is recognition for your hard work from peers. But as with most things surrounding community, you need to ensure that the primary focus is the community itself, not profit.
You can spot the difference with some surface-level research to find the ones authentically shining a light, giving a platform, amplifying voices.
It would be easy to dismiss these packages as gimmicks, except they work. Companies pay. Individuals attend. The photos end up on LinkedIn. The machine keeps rolling.
Part of the answer lies in psychology:
These levers explain why organisations that know better still sign off on the spend. The decision is less about believing in the impact of the award, and more about managing perception in an economy where perception itself is currency.
It’s worth stating that I don’t think these awards should be free. Events are expensive to run and the organisers should not foot the bill. But there are tried and tested models (including sponsorship or funds set up to propel initiatives like these) that can support awards without the added exploitative behaviour.
Every fee paid is also a signal. It tells organisers this model is viable, that recognition can be monetised, that underrepresented communities can be turned into revenue streams. The consequence is subtle but corrosive: energy is diverted away from reforming structures and towards maintaining appearances.
There is another path, though. Award organisers could make finalist participation free (like the Women in Tech Awards). They could publish transparent judging processes, decouple recognition from branding, and use sponsorship funds to reduce barriers rather than erect them.
And companies could redirect what they spend on tables into mentorships, scholarships, or direct support for women entering tech. A tenth of a platinum package could fund a coding bootcamp place. The whole package could sustain a year-long mentoring scheme.
It is infuriating to say the least.
So what are you really buying? If the answer is recognition, then it is worth asking why we feel the need to purchase it, and whether it could be earned elsewhere. A good start would be to evaluate the cost against what you think is realistic and fair. A bit of napkin maths can help conclude from the location and offering whether the ticket price is exploitative or not.
In a time of economic scarcity, it’s worth thinking twice about how best to deploy that hard earned cash to initiatives that really drive change.