Award-winning musician Sarah McLachlan shared this essay with AWARDS HQ on the legacy of Lilith Fair, and why it was important to share that story in the documentary “Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery – The Untold Story,” now streaming on Hulu:
In 1997 I launched the touring music festival, Lilith Fair, along with my management and agent at the time. Back then, it was commonly accepted in the music industry that bookers wouldn’t put more than one female artist on a concert bill because the tickets wouldn’t sell. Radio DJs were also instructed not to play women artists back-to-back, for fear of losing listeners.
The Lilith Fair tour featured an all-female lineup. It was a direct challenge to that ‘industry wisdom’ – a bet my partners and I took that there was a demand for music made by women.
Nobody thought it would work. My managers, Terry McBride and Dan Fraser, had to go against my label’s wishes to launch the tour. My agent, Marty Diamond, had to face down a steady stream of ‘no’s from fearful artist reps. Potential sponsors shied away. But, in the end, the artists – who’d been out there alone, navigating the same troubled waters – understood the potential. And over the course of three summers, Lilith Fair showcased a powerhouse collection of musicians, including Sheryl Crow, Tracy Chapman, Jewel, Fiona Apple, Bonnie Raitt, Erykah Badu, Sinead O’Connor and the Indigo Girls.
Over those three years, something magical happened. Together, we created a space where women artists could connect, commiserate, and lift each other up. Instead of competing for a single performance slot, as we had been conditioned to do, we created platforms for up-and-coming talent and joined in on each other’s songs. That spirit of openness and inclusivity was echoed by the audience, creating a communal space for fans, and a welcome alternative to the male-dominated festivals of the era, like Lollapalooza, Warped Tour, and Woodstock ’99.
Lilith Fair featured a whopping 313 artists across 135 shows. It was the highest grossing tour of the year, all three summers it ran. The festival became a cultural phenomenon, helping launch the careers of artists like Missy Elliott and The Chicks and raising more than 10 million dollars for women-focused charities. It proved, unequivocally, that women were a commercial force. It also redefined what a music festival could be.
But as much as it was celebrated, Lilith Fair was also widely criticized in the press and diminished in the wider culture. The same qualities that made it a safe, joyful space for women and queer people also made it a cultural punchline. The festival’s support of Planned Parenthood and other women’s groups drew protests and bomb threats. And when we ended it, after three extraordinary, exhausting years, the industry moved away from female singer/songwriters, placing power right back into the hands of those who had always had it.
It’s taken me years to come to terms with what all of this meant. But the benefit of time and the experience of helping a team of brilliant filmmakers turn this story into a documentary have helped bring its meaning into sharper focus.
On the cusp of the 30th anniversary of Lilith Fair, it is now clear that the festival created real, lasting change – both in the lives of those who attended and the culture at large. In 2026, women are now at the center of the music industry. Artists like Chappell Roan, Taylor Swift, Beyoncé and Olivia Rodrigo sell out arenas, and champion other women artists at their shows. They control their own careers, and their female and queer fans are free to celebrate them – and themselves – proudly.
At the same time, in the United States and around the world, women’s rights and protections are being systematically stripped away. The national conversation is dominated by cruelty, division, and fear. While we have made some progress, it is clearly not fixed – and there will always be those who wish to take it away.
Revisiting Lilith Fair in our present moment creates a tremendous sense of nostalgia and pride – for the community and positive change that we all, together, created – and a deep yearning for women who came of age in that era, myself included. But I think the emotional response we are experiencing goes deeper than that.
As Paula Cole says in the film, “Lilith Fair is a beacon of hope.” It’s an example of what can happen when women reimagine a world beyond the one that is presented to them. It’s a reminder that we can reject the idea that there’s only room for a few to succeed; that empathy and vulnerability are strengths, not weaknesses; that, sometimes, gentle acts of rebellion can grow into something much bigger.
In the face of oppression and cynicism, kindness and joy are revolutionary acts. We need them now more than ever.
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