Why is it still ok to trivialise Women’s sport? (TLDR: It’s not)

The last few months has been exciting for work under our Connect pillar! We co-hosted an event with Women in Union at Principality Stadium, were part of the ArcHER series and had a fantastic Women in Boards session, which has led to CWS Board Members having mentoring conversations with women who have ambitions around boards. We were excited to watch 6,069 runners take part in Big Moose’s Ultra Fun Run in Bute Park as we partnered with the mental health charity, talking to participants about CWS. We also had a big win under our Advocate pillar as we met with Jack Sargeant: Minister for Culture, Skills and Social Partnerships to discuss our purpose and ambitions. So all in all, progress!

Image courtesy of Penallta Photographics by Tracey Lintern

But even as we celebrated these achievements, a number of things happened that highlighted how important CWS is and how much work there is still to be done. Marty Sheargold, an Australian Radio DJ interjected into a sport bulletin being broadcast on his drive time Triple M radio show, to compare the Matilda’s, the Australian women’s football team to “year 10 girls” suggesting the way they played was boring. Following further comments, including a misogynistic obscenity, he then asked his co-host ‘Got any men’s sport?”. 

He subsequently said he fully understood the gravity of his remarks and would like to “sincerely apologise to the Matildas and the broader organisation.” He was fired. Chwarae teg, Triple M – that wouldn’t have happened 5 years ago! Of course, Alan Brazil on TalkSport’s breakfast show in the same month also made disparaging comments about the place the women’s team had in Manchester United’s Project 150, but he’s still firmly in the presenter’s chair.

“Why do men think it’s acceptable to trivialise/dismiss women’s sport but would not dream of publicly doing the same about para sport, or sports dominated by ethnic minorities?”

But then there was ‘Neathgate’. In March, Neath Rugby Club promoted a local derby by describing it as “definitely not for girls” and the post included the hashtag #NotForGirls’ This landed poorly and the WRU asked the club to take the post down. In subsequently trying to explain it, the club issued a statement setting out that ‘the idea from the start was to shine a light on the casual misogyny that still exists in parts of rugby and, more importantly, to champion the incredible women and girls’ rugby players who represent our club with passion, skill, and dedication.’ I, and people all over the country, didn’t quite see how this championed women’s sport, although it certainly shone a light on the casual misogyny that still exits, and CWS called this out at the time, across our social media accounts.

t’s the casual nature of this misogyny that leads me to ask this question. Why do men think it’s acceptable to trivialise/dismiss women’s sport but would not dream of publicly doing the same about para sport, or sports dominated by ethnic minorities? 

The answer lies in the complicated tangle of cultural perception, historical bias, and who we, collectively, are still comfortable punching down on.

Para sport has rightfully earned widespread admiration. Its athletes are framed as inspirational — overcoming adversity, defying odds. To mock para athletes isn’t just seen as ignorant, it’s viewed as cruel, ableist, and fundamentally unkind. There’s an awareness of the power dynamics at play — that the athletes have had to work against societal and physical barriers to even compete.

Similarly, ethnic minority-dominated sports like sprinting or basketball often receive criticism only when they become platforms for political expression — such as kneeling protests or calls for racial justice. But the sports themselves? Rarely derided for their “quality” or “watchability” because they’ve earned cultural capital and legitimacy. They’ve been allowed to be “serious,” to count.

Women’s sport, however, still sits in a strange space. It’s more visible than ever, with historic strides in media coverage and investment — yet it still hasn’t shaken off the perception of being a sideshow. For some men, especially those who are used to seeing themselves as the default participants in sport, women’s presence threatens a long-held sense of ownership. Criticising women’s sport becomes a way to reassert that ownership, to remind everyone who really belongs.

Professor Leigh Robinson is the Chair of Cymru Women’s Sport and the Chair of the Central South Regional Sport Partnership.

But there’s more to it than just ego. There’s a kind of cultural permission that still exists when it comes to demeaning women — especially women in male-dominated spaces. Unlike with para or ethnic sport, criticising women’s sport doesn’t yet feel socially “off-limits.” It doesn’t trigger the same internal alarm bells about discrimination, fairness or punching down. It’s the last acceptable prejudice in sport’s mainstream conversation.

And let’s be honest — many of the criticisms are just lazy and ignorant. They ignore context: decades of underfunding, lack of access, and systemic neglect. This is what is happening every time someone compares the women’s 6 nations to the men’s 6 nations.

It’s time we recognised this double standard for what it is: a reflection of who society still deems worthy of respect, and who still has to fight just to be taken seriously. In the meantime, CWS will continue to amplify marginalised voices, challenge biased narratives, and advocate for systemic change—because equity isn’t a privilege; it’s a right.