I I’m constantly told that the sports media industry is getting better, and that there are a lot more opportunities for women who want to work in it. I’m not sure. It was great to see the BBC’s Olympic presenting team led by women this summer, and there were more female faces on the sidelines at the men’s Euros too. But there’s still a very long way to go. The microaggressions that have permeated my 16-year career and those of my female friends and peers are still there, with the constant need to prove yourself as more than an equally or less qualified man. I don’t even see a change in how people treat me now that I’m a ‘talent’ and no longer the errand boy/girl of all things that I was when I started working in broadcast.

I work in many different sports and always do my homework, not least because I still have to prove I deserve my place in front of the microphone. This year I went to the Middle East a couple of times presenting a sports programme. It wasn’t my ‘main’ sport but I had an analyst with me who was very knowledgeable about the intricacies and what was happening on the pitch. I had to know enough to prepare him and get the best out of him but crucially I had to be able to hold a programme together; follow a schedule, take cues from the stands and know what questions to ask the analyst.

A few days before I left, the producer called me to discuss what would happen when I got there. The producer and I talked about what the programs would be like and how much expertise I would need. “Oh,” he said dismissively, seemingly almost surprised by my question. “Don’t worry about it. The network doesn’t care if you don’t know what you’re talking about, as long as you look glamorous.”

Forgiveness?

While my oil state backers might not have cared if I had any idea what was going on, I certainly did, because I’m a journalist, not a beauty pageant contestant. This sort of thing is nothing new, of course. But the fact that it’s still happening in 2024 is exhausting.

In one of my other jobs, I present sports news for a well-known international broadcaster. At the start of one of my last shifts, I was busy writing my scripts for the show when someone from another program walked up to the desks where I was working with a few others. He spoke in a general manner. “Hello,” he said. “I’m looking for your sports presenter. I assume he’s in the studio, right?”

I turned around in my chair. “No,” I said. “She is here.” It felt like a moment when the mic was dropped from your hand, and the guy was visibly embarrassed. His question about the anchor’s whereabouts was innocent, but it got me on edge because these assumptions (even if unconscious) that I’m taking a guy’s job away are constantly present. And at the same time, we’re told to believe the story that sports broadcasting is changing.

Unfortunately, it’s still no different in the UK. When I work out there, I get dismissed by sports fans and colleagues alike. At a recent commentary job, I was asked on arrival if I was a broadcast assistant. Then there’s the colleague who questioned how much I knew about rugby, while getting some facts wrong himself.

I usually stay away from YouTube comments, but one recently said he was “pleasantly surprised by this female commentator,” while another called for me to be fired mid-show because “listening to that woman speak is torture.” When I tell people I’m a commentator, they always ask me if I play professionally. When I say no, most ask how I know enough about the sport to be able to provide insight and analysis. It’s a fair question, and it’s not just viewers who have asked me that. My male peers have too. While it may be a fair question, it’s unfair that men aren’t actually asked that question. And the answer is, “Because I’m a professional sports commentator.”

Some men I know in the industry feel like they are not in line with the truth and are passed over for jobs in favor of women. I was once told, “You only got that job because you’re a woman.” I replied, “What about all the times you were chosen first because you’re a man?” This industry has never really been a meritocracy, and you can’t judge people objectively. There is no “data,” you can’t compare our sales numbers, our treatment success rates, or the number of clients we attract. Everything is subjective, and someone, somewhere, will always feel they deserve a job more than someone else.

Where are the women in the press box at lower league football matches, or at less prestigious events in other sports? Of course there are a few – but not enough. It’s not that women lack ability or ambition, but there always seems to be an extra hurdle to overcome to show recruiters that you are capable. Men just don’t get criticised in the same way. It has also become common to say that women should not work in men’s football because it is “a totally different game” to women’s football. It is not a totally different game. It is the same game played by opposite sexes. Kabaddi, for example, is a totally different game.