You Loved the Underdog Story Until It Had Braids and Baby Hairs

The WNBA’s players' demand for better pay is triggering folks, and it has nothing to do with TV ratings.

In October 2024, WNBA players channeled their Riley Freeman, demanding Santa pay what he owes and opting out of their collective bargaining agreement. The players (rightfully, I believe) deserve better compensation for their role in growing the WNBA. These players aren’t chasing unrealistic dreams of NBA-level paychecks. Instead, this is a challenge to the status quo. And there’s an interesting thing I notice when reading and listening to the conversations about the decision to opt out.

From L to W

Consider how quickly public debates around what’s right turn to questions about profitability. When women's sports enter these discussions, it's often suggested they need first to prove they're profitable to justify higher pay. Yet, history paints a different picture. The NBA itself wasn't initially profitable. In its formative years, teams played in small arenas, suffered financial losses, and struggled to draw fans. Nevertheless, early NBA players continually saw salary increases because investors understood that growth requires risk and investment, irrespective of immediate profit.

In the NBA’s infancy, games were held in unconventional spaces like dance halls and ice rinks, often drawing modest crowds. Many teams operated at significant financial losses, sustained by owners who saw future potential rather than immediate returns. Star players like Bill Russell earned substantial salaries early on, reflecting investors' belief in long-term growth over immediate profitability. Over time, these risky investments paid off, transforming the NBA into the global powerhouse it is today (BALL IS LIFE!). This historical context is critical in understanding the inequity of WNBA player compensation.

Because bidness is booming for the “W.” Attendance is up, viewership records are breaking, and a media deal with Disney, Amazon, and NBCU is allegedly worth $2.2 billion over 11 years starting in 2026.

It Is Deeper Than Rap

The skepticism toward paying WNBA players more reveals a deeper societal issue. There's often an unconscious assumption that women's sports are inherently less entertaining or valuable—a perception subtly reinforced through media coverage, marketing choices, and societal norms. Phrases like "surprising success" or "unexpected talent" when describing female athletes perpetuate the idea that their excellence is an anomaly. These subtle biases can shape how we view their worth and, ultimately, their compensation.

Consider the language used in sports media coverage, which subtly but consistently implies that women's accomplishments are less expected. This subtle framing reinforces the false notion that women's sports achievements are exceptions rather than norms. Headlines like “historic upset” or commentators expressing disbelief at high performance levels underscore these implicit biases, subtly reinforcing viewers' unconscious belief that women's athletic excellence isn't standard but rather an unusual event.

Many resist recognizing that the players' current financial situation results from deliberate choices. Women's leagues have historically received less funding and fewer resources. Yet critics (haters really, tho) use the resulting lower revenue as justification against pay equity, creating a self-reinforcing cycle of underinvestment. Consider this cycle clearly: less investment leads to less visibility, lower viewership, fewer sponsorships, and ultimately reduced revenue. Then, this intentionally created lack of profitability becomes the justification for continued low investment, perpetuating a foul cycle.

This debate is also about broader societal values. Why should financial return alone dictate worth, particularly when past examples like the NBA clearly show that long-term success often begins with significant initial investment? When we consider other industries like technology startups or new media ventures, substantial initial investments are standard, and immediate profitability is rarely expected (tech startups burn through BILLIONS of dollars without a profitability plan). So why hold women's sports to a different standard?

There's also an intersectional element at play. Most WNBA players are of the African diaspora. The ethnic makeup adds another layer of marginalization, making pay equity not just a gender issue, but an ethnic/racial one (I loathe the concept of race). The economic and societal barriers these players face are multiplied, making their demands for better compensation even more crucial. The struggle for pay equity in the WNBA is intertwined with broader societal issues like racial justice and economic equality. Acknowledging this intersectionality is vital for a nuanced understanding of what these players are fighting for.

To genuinely support women's sports means breaking free from the subtle yet powerful narratives that undermine female athletes. It requires acknowledging implicit biases and recognizing the constructed nature of these attitudes. When we dismiss or undervalue women's demands for better pay, we unconsciously sustain a system that undervalues women's labor across all sectors. Recognizing the worth and potential of female athletes can have positive ripple effects, challenging ingrained biases across various industries and professions.

Ultimately, the question isn't whether women's sports leagues "deserve" higher pay based on current profit margins. Instead, the question is whether we're willing to invest in the potential and recognize the foundational contributions of these athletes, just as we have historically done for men's sports. The WNBA players' movement isn't asking for charity or an unjustified handout—they're advocating for proper recognition of the value they've already proven, both economically and culturally.

As society continues to grapple with what impartiality truly means, the actions of WNBA players prompt critical reflections on our collective values. Are we willing to envision a different future—one where better pay is not only normalized but expected, irrespective of gender? This question doesn't just challenge current norms; it invites everyone to reimagine what equity in sports, and indeed all professional arenas, can truly look like.

Why Economic Systems Resist Change

Economic systems, particularly those deeply rooted in legacy industries, often resist change not because change isn’t logical, but because change threatens the hierarchies and power structures that these systems were built to protect. The structure of professional sports reflects this. Built on decades of “norms” that prioritized men's leagues, the economic frameworks that govern sports, from sponsorship models to broadcasting rights, were never designed with women in mind. These systems are ashy and run from a moisturizer.

When women’s leagues start pushing for redistribution or recognition, they disrupt not just tradition but entrenched revenue streams and relationships. Broadcasters and advertisers, for example, have longstanding ties to male-dominated sports that yield predictable returns. Shifting investment to women’s leagues would require rethinking what’s deemed profitable, and this threatens stakeholders' status quo.

Risk is another factor. Despite data showing surging viewership and cultural interest in the WNBA, many networks and brands still see it as unproven. Not because it is, but because they've never actually bet on it. Risk is not universal; it’s relative to who you’ve historically trusted to deliver returns. This is why investors were comfortable losing money on the early NBA, but they hesitate with the WNBA. The difference isn’t the numbers, it’s who’s involved. We grow up in a world that doesn’t adequately value women or their contributions.

Lastly, the resistance stems from a deep-seated discomfort with accountability. If institutions admit that women's leagues have been historically undervalued, not by accident but by design, then they’d have to rectify that undervaluation. That requires resources, restructuring, and a power shift. Systems built on control rarely relinquish it, even when presented with data and moral clarity. Bullies don’t stop bullying just because. You gotta either have big homies look out for you, or you stand up to them.

In this light, the pushback against WNBA players isn’t about revenue; it's about resistance to redistributing power. Economic systems mask bias with spreadsheets, but the bottom line is still shaped by who’s allowed to be seen as valuable. And who’s not. All this to say the NBA and NBA players got funded like a rap label, or an AI startup, and the WNBA’s still waiting for studio time.

SWIRV. 🖖🏽