From Girlbossing to Equal Access: The Feminist Nuances of the AI Debate

Words: Siobhan Cole

When Natasha Lyonne announced she was making a film using AI (with David Lynch’s blessing no less), the internet briefly imploded. Whether or not you think it’s in poor taste to use the formidable filmmaker’s parting words for personal gain, the ethics surrounding her venture remain murky. AI is built on unpaid labour, fuels job loss, reinforces bias, uses the energy of a small country, and hands more power to the tech giants. But according to Lyonne? It's a pencil, a tool. Get on board, she says, or get left behind.

Not that the boss babes of TikTok were waiting for permission. The buzz surrounding Chat GPT’s ability to help you ‘manifest your dream brand’ has been building for a while. Wherever you look online, there’s a glut of girlbosses gleefully sharing “ChatGPT prompts so good they should be illegal.” Lyonne’s right. AI is no longer just a tech bro toy. Instead, it’s been rebranded as a feminist productivity hack; something that can help schedule a month of content in ten minutes, and generate infinite ideas without burnout.

Dig a little deeper and you’ll find AI marketing apps promising to replace entire creative teams. But no payroll? No personality. Beneath the pastel Canva graphics and smug time-saving tips, there’s something quietly dystopian going on. When did automating our creativity become aspirational? 
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Because let's be honest: when content creators save time by using AI, they’re rarely using it for rest. It means more content, more output, more chances to monetise their following before the algorithm changes again. It’s capitalism in a circle, chewing its own tail. They’re not outsourcing admin so they can lie in a field and stare at the sky. They’re automating the boring bits so they can squeeze in more brand-building. The fantasy isn’t freedom. It’s efficiency, and efficiency is just exploitation with better lighting.

“Beneath the pastel Canva graphics and smug time-saving tips, there’s something quietly dystopian going on. When did automating our creativity become aspirational?” 

What’s more twisted is that we’re not just being replaced by AI, we’re being told to compete with it. Write faster, post more, never run out of ideas. It’s not just about automation. It’s about assimilation. Platforms, brands, even editors expect a pace of production only possible with AI, but still want the authenticity of a human voice. The bar hasn’t been lowered, it’s been raised to something inhuman. It’s the same burnout economy, just wearing a new mask.

So what should we do about it? Boycott? Protest? Well, I'm not so sure. The GPT genie is out of the bottle. And if able-bodied hustlers are using AI to keep up with these impossible expectations, what does that mean for marginalised folks? Here's the pivot: for some, it’s making participation possible. For disabled, neurodivergent, and working-class people, AI isn’t about scaling productivity. It’s about basic access. It helps us send the email, pitch the idea, finish the task we’ve been staring at for days. The same tools being used by brands to replace entire teams are, for us, what make work even remotely doable in a system that has always fucked us. And yet, when we use it, we’re told we’re cheating. 

AI is problematic, that’s undeniable, but it’s also an accessibility tool, like so many that came before it. Voice-to-text software helped people who couldn’t type. Screen readers and predictive text supported blind and dyslexic users. Task automation apps like reminders or routines made daily admin manageable for those with memory or executive function challenges. Marginalised people have always relied on automation to survive. Criticising AI use without asking who has the time, energy, or executive function to do everything the ‘proper’ way is deeply ableist. Many of us aren’t choosing between good and evil. We’re choosing between doing the thing or not doing it at all.

Class comes into play here, too. We’re quick to panic about AI being trained on stolen creative work (and rightly so) but the truth is, capitalism has always run on stolen labour. Not just content, but the underpaid, burnt-out workers behind your next-day delivery, your oat milk flat white, your smartphone, your Shein haul (and that’s without considering the environmental elephant in the room). The only difference is we’ve normalised that exploitation because it’s been made invisible, or worse, aestheticised. Outrage often only kicks in when the theft affects middle-class creatives. It’s easy to care about ethics when they align with your identity or income stream. Just as easy to ignore them when you’re jonesing for a Deliveroo.

I’m a working-class, neurodivergent woman who’s been trying to get published for most of my life. The literary-media machine, however, prides itself on taste but runs on poorly paid labour, whisper networks, and unspoken rules I was never taught. I work full-time. I don’t have the hours (or executive function) to craft pitch after perfect pitch only for them to be ignored. Last week, with a bit of help, I sent out more than I had in years, and finally I got a yes. These are my thoughts, my voice, my ideas. AI is the tool that finally gave me a leg up, and I won’t apologise for using it. People like me need a seat at the table if we want to rise up and flip it. 

So go ahead – slay with your bot, or don’t. Use the prompts, write your own, boycott the tech entirely. That’s between you and your algorithm. But let’s not pretend we’re operating in a vacuum. Like choice feminism before it, this kind of ethical dilemma puts the burden on individuals to make pure decisions inside a system that’s anything but. We’re all trying to survive capitalism while being shamed for how we do it. Unless you’re growing your own veg, coding an ethical Instagram, and writing your Substack by candlelight, you’re already compromised. 

Here are my suggestions: use it to remove barriers, not to replace labour. Be transparent (when it's safe). Centre solidarity, not superiority. Push for structural change, not individual guilt. 

Go forth, be mindful, maybe use it for good. It’s that, or leaving it to the tech bros, and quite frankly, I think they’ve done enough.