By Azza Cohen

Author’s note: The idea for this column came from reader David Reid. Thanks, David!

In September, Boston Mayor Michelle Wu announced her third pregnancy. The news might have made a couple of headlines, noteworthy for the historical precedent as the first mayor to give birth while in office. Instead, it became another case study in how visual media frames pregnant women in power.

Now that she’s given birth, the Boston Globe's coverage of Wu's parental leave included a photograph that told a different story than the accompanying article. In the photo, Wu sits in a burgundy dress, hands folded, gazing up at a speaker at the podium—not speaking herself, not leading. For a mayor actively shaping city policy while balancing motherhood, this passive framing sends a regressive message: Power belongs to the person at the microphone, not the woman in the frame.

This isn't just about one photograph. It's about how we consistently diminish women leaders through visual choices that would be unthinkable for their male counterparts.

The Swift Precedent: Twenty Years of Lessons Unlearned

To understand Wu's visual treatment, we must revisit what happened to Jane Swift two decades ago. In 2001, when Swift became Massachusetts's first female governor, every detail of her parenting became controversial. The press scrutinized her husband serving as primary caregiver, Swift bringing her toddler to the office, and Swift running meetings via speakerphone while on bed rest just after giving birth to twins.

The visual coverage was equally damaging. Swift was repeatedly photographed in domestic settings or passive positions—sitting rather than standing, listening rather than speaking, surrounded by children rather than advisers. When Swift was in labor, Secretary of State William Galvin proposed that the Governor's Council descend on her hospital room, as if her capacity to govern required physical oversight even during childbirth. Swift, decades after her government service, wrote about the double standard women face and penned an op-ed aimed at the Boston press corps: “They say there is no such thing as second chances, but I have great news for the media covering the political scene in Boston: you have an opportunity for a do-over.”

More than 20 years later, Wu faces remarkably similar visual treatment. The photograph from the Globe exemplifies three key techniques that continue to undermine pregnant women in power: passive positioning, problematic color rendering, and narrative contradiction.

Seated Power, Standing Authority

The power dynamics of posture matter enormously in political photography. Capturing Wu watching rather than leading frames her as passive, reinforcing cultural assumptions that pregnant women are naturally stepping back from authority.

This positioning becomes particularly problematic during pregnancy, when cultural expectations already suggest women should be focusing on family rather than leadership.

As Danny Hayes and Jennifer L. Lawless wrote in “A Non-Gendered Lens? Media, Voters, and Female Candidates in Contemporary Congressional Elections,” published in Perspectives on Politics, “Further, the news tends to emphasize women’s appearance, personality, family roles, ‘feminine traits’—such as compassion and honesty—and advocacy for ‘women’s issues.’ Men, on the other hand, are more likely than women to garner attention that focuses on their professional backgrounds, credentials, office-holding experience, “masculine” attributes—such as leadership and experience—and strengths in the areas of foreign policy, defense, and the economy.”

When Massachusetts Gov. Charlie Baker's children appeared in media coverage, he was consistently shown as the active leader—standing, gesturing, or instructing—while his family provided supportive context. The visual message: His leadership remains central even when his family is present.

Color Politics and Technical Choices

Beyond positioning lies a subtler issue: Wu's skin tone appears slightly oversaturated and warm-tinted in the Globe photograph, potentially the result of white balance not properly calibrated for Asian skin. As media scholar Lorna Roth documented in her groundbreaking 2009 research "Looking at Shirley, the Ultimate Norm," cameras and editing software have historically been optimized for white subjects, creating systematic challenges in accurately representing people of color.

This technical bias becomes political when it affects how leaders are perceived. Subtle color misrendering can "other" subjects, making them appear slightly unfamiliar or out of place to viewers accustomed to seeing political authority in particular visual terms. For Wu, an Asian American woman already challenging traditional expectations of political leadership, accurate color representation isn't just technical courtesy; it's political necessity.

Visual Narrative vs. Verbal Reality

Though the article discussed Wu's policy initiatives and leadership decisions, the accompanying image suggests she's deferring, stepping back, or operating in a diminished capacity. This mismatch represents a hallmark of visual sexism: the photograph undermines the text.

Research by James Devitt in his 2002 study "Framing Gender on the Campaign Trail: Female Gubernatorial Candidates and the Press," published in Journalism & Mass Communication Quarterly, found that female gubernatorial candidates received more coverage focused on their viability and electability—essentially questioning their capability—and male candidates received more issue-focused coverage that took their competence as given.

The Accountability Balance

This analysis doesn't suggest that elected officials shouldn't be held accountable for how they balance public responsibilities with personal circumstances. If leaders need time off for health, family, or other reasons, they should take it. Transparency about governance during transitions serves the public interest.

But there's a crucial difference between accountability and diminishment. Asking substantive questions about policy continuity during maternity leave is appropriate. Visually framing a pregnant mayor as passive or secondary is not.

When male politicians become fathers, coverage rarely questions their fundamental capacity to govern. Boston's own mayoral history illustrates this double standard perfectly: The city's very first mayor, John Phillips, had eight children; Mayor James Curley had nine children; Mayor John Collins had four; Mayor John Hynes had five. None faced questions about his fitness for office based on his family size or his ability to balance fatherhood with governance.

Yet when women seek office while pregnant or with young children, their capability becomes the story. A May 15, 1998, New York Times article carried the telling headline "A Pregnant Candidate Discovers She's an Issue"— unimaginable for a male candidate becoming a father while campaigning.

The double standard isn't subtle. It's systematic.

Swift's Shadow: What Might Have Been

Jane Swift dropped out of the 2002 gubernatorial race, ceding the Republican nomination to Mitt Romney—a father of five with a stay-at-home spouse and private equity fortune. As Boston Magazine noted in its 2023 retrospective, "Swift is also a symbol of what might have been if we'd all had a little more perspective, a little more generosity, and a little more restraint."

Crucially, this criticism crossed party lines—Democratic politicians and pundits questioned Swift's ability to govern while pregnant and with young children, demonstrating that skepticism about women balancing leadership and motherhood isn't confined to one political ideology. The press treated her parenting choices as perpetual controversy while rarely questioning how male politicians managed similar responsibilities.

Lesa Hatley Major and Renita Coleman found that when personal characteristics were mentioned in political coverage, female candidates were more likely to be described in terms of their family roles than their professional qualifications. This pattern was exactly what derailed Swift's political future, as they wrote in “The Intersection of Race and Gender in Election Coverage: What Happens When the Candidates Don't Fit the Stereotypes?,” published in the Howard Journal of Communications.

Wu now faces similar visual politics, but with crucial differences. Social media provides her more control over her own image, and public awareness of gender bias has grown. Still, traditional media's visual framing power remains significant, particularly in shaping subconscious perceptions of authority and competence.

Speaking vs. Being Spoken About

Another dimension of Wu's visual diminishment involves voice and agency. Research by Elisabeth Gidengil and Joanna Everitt in their 2003 study "Talking Tough: Gender and Reported Speech in Campaign News Coverage," published in Political Communication, found that male politicians were quoted directly more often than female politicians, who were more often paraphrased or described rather than given voice.

The Globe photograph of Wu exemplifies this pattern visually: She's shown listening to someone else speak rather than speaking herself. This visual choice reinforces the statistical reality that women in politics are more often talked about than allowed to talk, more often described than quoted, more often shown in passive rather than active roles.

Reframing Leadership

As Wu prepares for reelection, we should watch carefully for continued visual sexism. Will photographers consistently choose images in which she appears passive rather than authoritative? Will her pregnancy and motherhood dominate visual narratives about her policy agenda? Will she be photographed differently than male candidates with families?

These questions matter because visual representation shapes political possibility. When we consistently see pregnant women or mothers framed as secondary figures, we absorb subtle messages about who belongs in positions of power and under what circumstances.

Wu's case offers an opportunity to evolve beyond the visual politics that constrained Swift. When media outlets choose photographs, they should ask: Does this image represent the leader's actual role and authority? Would we frame a male politician with similar responsibilities in the same way? Does the visual narrative match the written story?

Photography can diminish or dignify. For pregnant women in power, these choices carry particular weight, influencing not just current perceptions but future possibilities for women who might follow.

As voters and media consumers, we can demand better visual representation of women leaders. Notice the patterns. Question the framing. Seek out the images that show women exercising power, not just experiencing it.

The camera doesn't lie, but it can certainly mislead. Wu deserves visual coverage that reflects her actual authority, not cultural assumptions about pregnant women's proper place.

Until next time, keep your eyes sharp and your lenses sharper.

Send examples of visual sexism you've noticed to submit@contrariannews.org with the subject line SPLIT SCREEN.

Azza Cohen (she/her) is an award-winning documentary filmmaker who served as Vice President Kamala Harris's official videographer in the White House. She recently founded a production company with her wife, Kathleen, and is writing a book about visual sexism from a cinematographer's perspective. Uncover and address visual sexism alongside Azza every other week here on The Contrarian and on Instagram and Bluesky. Azza is, in fact, a big fan of The New Yorker, which bought and distributed her film “FLOAT!” in 2023.