It's 2026: Why Are Female Sports Fans STILL Constantly Asked To Prove Themselves?

A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting with a group of friends, telling them I’d be calling it an early night because I wanted to wake up in time to watch Game 5 between the Knicks and the Spurs. One of them looked at me with the kind of condescending expression usually reserved for people who’ve just said something deeply embarrassing and asked, “Oh, you watch the NBA? What’s the Knicks’ starting five?”

The question instantly irritated me. It’s the sports fandom cousin of the rock music equivalent of somebody saying, "Oh you like Rage Against The Machine? Name 5 songs?"

Why did I need to prove my knowledge of a sport in order to enjoy it — almost like a pink tax? Why was my interest being treated as something that needed to be verified? More importantly, why was the assumption that I didn't know what I was talking about in the first place?

It also got me thinking about a broader pattern: why are women so often asked to prove their credentials before they're allowed to participate in certain corners of popular culture? Whether it's sports, rock and metal music, gaming, comics, or film fandoms, there seems to be an unspoken expectation that women must demonstrate a level of expertise that men are rarely asked to justify. Why do some men feel compelled to act as gatekeepers of these spaces?

This act of 'gatekeeping': controlling who is considered a "real" member of a community and who is not, rather than accepting someone's interest at face value, often involves creating unofficial tests of legitimacy. In doing so, people can position themselves as having superior taste, deeper knowledge, or greater cultural capital. It becomes a way of distinguishing themselves from others and claiming membership in an exclusive group that sees itself as more informed, or even somehow 'better' than everyone else.

Gatekeeping has existed since before we had a word to describe this behaviour. Throughout history, it has been used as a tool to maintain power and exclude certain groups from certain spaces. Women were denied access to universities, scientific institutions, and professional societies for centuries because they were deemed intellectually incapable or unsuited for such pursuits. Across Asia, Africa, and the Americas, indigenous systems of knowledge, language, religion, and governance were dismissed as primitive or illegitimate, while European ways of thinking were positioned as the standard for civilisation. Colonised peoples were often required to adopt the systems of their rulers in order to gain access to social mobility or political participation. In both cases, the message was that you must first prove yourself according to standards established by those already in power.

The gatekeeping that occurs in these sports fandoms or music scenes is obviously less severe than these historical examples, but it follows a similar logic. A person's enthusiasm is not taken at face value. Instead, they are asked to demonstrate that they can be a part of their elite and often literal ‘boys club’. 

For many people, watching a sport is their first introduction to it. Exposure sparks curiosity, curiosity leads to engagement, and engagement can eventually lead to participation. For a young girl, watching the ongoing Women's T20 World Cup can be a source of great inspiration, encouraging her to pick up a bat or ball and try the sport for herself. And even if she doesn't go on to become the next Harmanpreet Kaur, the fact that she gave a sport a chance and discovered the joy of playing it is, in itself, a successful outcome.

Beyond individual inspiration, viewership also drives investment. The more people watch a sport, the more resources flow into it through sponsorships, infrastructure, and grassroots programmes. This is especially significant for women's sports and emerging leagues, where increased audiences can translate directly into greater opportunities for athletes. In that sense, every viewer contributes to the ecosystem of a sport. Watching is one of the ways sports sustain themselves.

But at its best, watching sports is one of the purest forms of storytelling. Every game unfolds in real time, where triumph and heartbreak exist only seconds apart. There is a unique joy in investing emotionally in something so uncertain, and sports give us heroes, villains, rivalries, and moments of collective celebration. They create communities of strangers who cheer together, mourn together, and carry shared memories for years afterward.

I remember watching the Indian Men's Hockey Team secure the bronze medal at the Tokyo 2020 Olympics. My dad watched them win with tears in his eyes and the atmosphere felt electric. It wasn't just about the result; it was about sharing a moment that felt larger than ourselves.  And you do not need to understand every statistic, memorise every roster, or analyse every tactical decision to appreciate that magic.

So to all the boys out there who are waiting to embarrass someone, who are eager to turn a shared passion into a test of credibility, and who seem determined to make others feel as though they cannot be part of this wonderful, exhilarating experience, as the FIFA World Cup unfolds over the coming month, I would like to say this: let people enjoy things. If you truly love a sport, your instinct should not be to close the gate behind you. It should be to hold it open. Because the more people who are allowed to experience the joy, heartbreak, drama, and connection that sports provide, the richer the game becomes for everyone. 

If you enjoyed this here's more from Homegrown:

World Champions: How The Women In Blue Gave Indian Women’s Cricket Its Own '1983 Moment'

Inside A Bengaluru 'Fight Club' That Wants India To Take Combat Sports More Seriously 

A New Era Of Indian Manga: Qissa Comics Blends Myth, Futurism, & Sports Fiction