When I was a young boy, full of energy, getting into scuffles, and generally being a troublemaker, it was always the women in my life—my sisters, aunts, and mother—who would step in to calm things down and bring a loving, fair resolution. Don't get me wrong, my mother and sisters were, and still are, incredibly fierce, but they only showed that side when absolutely necessary. I rarely saw them behave that way. Fast forward to today, and it feels like things have shifted. With the rise of feminism and the prevalence of race-based victimhood narratives, the way many women approach conflict seems drastically different, especially in the world of sports. The WNBA and the story of Caitlin Clark are prime examples of this change.
Gabby Williams' departure from the Seattle Storm to join Fenerbahce in Turkey has reignited the debate about salary disparities in women's basketball, especially following her critique of the WNBA's pay structure. Williams, frustrated by the league's financial constraints, took issue with Commissioner Cathy Engelbert's claim that WNBA players could earn up to $700,000 annually. She clarified that no player earns that amount solely from WNBA contracts and pointed out that international leagues offer more lucrative opportunities, which ultimately influenced her decision to leave.
Many agree with Williams' frustration, but the reality is that in sports, earnings are largely driven by market value. The massive salaries and endorsements NBA players receive (which, admittedly, can seem excessive) aren't based on gender but on the revenue they generate—millions in viewership and billions for sponsors, advertisers, and teams. It's capitalism at work: the more you generate, the more you make. The WNBA, while growing, doesn't yet come close to the financial scale of the NBA, which explains why its players earn significantly less.
Caitlin Clark has sparked a change in the WNBA by drawing crowds in a way no other player has managed before, which could eventually lead to greater financial rewards for her and other athletes. However, instead of celebration, her success seems to have provoked jealousy and accusations of racism from some Black players in the league—largely because Clark, a standout player, is not only white but outperforming many of her peers.
Williams also weighed in on the ongoing debate surrounding Caitlin Clark, the WNBA's top draft pick, whose earnings have become a focal point. Clark’s base salary is reportedly $76,000, but lucrative endorsement deals have pushed her total income to around $700,000. Williams made it clear that her criticisms were strictly about WNBA salaries, not outside sponsorships.
What stands out about Williams' complaints is that they don't align with the broader picture of women's sports. When you consider market forces, female athletes in other sports—like tennis—earn millions because they consistently draw large crowds and viewers. Sponsors, advertisers, and teams have always been willing to invest in athletes who generate excitement and revenue, regardless of gender. Therefore, despite Williams’ grievances, it seems the issue may be that she and many of her fellow WNBA players simply aren't attracting enough fans to justify higher salaries. It's no secret that the WNBA, at this point, is a struggling business, spending more than it earns.
The discussion around pay disparities in the WNBA has also highlighted broader issues of racism and privilege within the league. Despite setting numerous records in her rookie season, Caitlin Clark has found herself at the center of controversies, including a notable incident with Chicago's Chennedy Carter, which sparked accusations of bullying and racial tension. This is just one of several incidents that fans have noticed, with many on social media suggesting that some Black players seem to harbour resentment toward Clark, unfairly targeting her during games. Some athletes argue that Clark benefits from racial privilege, while players like A'ja Wilson of the Las Vegas Aces have voiced frustration about the marginalization of Black athletes in the league.
Regardless of the perspective, this situation casts a negative light on both the WNBA and some of its Black players. It brings to mind a broader cultural shift in how women are perceived in society. In their push to be as aggressive and competitive as men, some women seem to have lost sight of the qualities that have traditionally set them apart—fairness, kindness, grace, and even love. This is particularly evident in sports, where the desire to compete like men often overshadows these qualities. But if women in sports try to mimic men in every way, it raises a question: why not just watch men, who are generally faster, stronger, more athletic, and more aggressive?
The truth is, men's physical attributes make them more naturally suited to certain sports, which explains why they're often seen as more dynamic and watchable in those areas. However, in sports that highlight traits traditionally associated with women—like gymnastics or synchronized swimming—men struggle to match the sheer beauty and elegance women bring. And when it comes to sports where men and women compete on equal footing, such as equestrian disciplines like show jumping, the pay gap is virtually non-existent, further emphasizing that it's the market, not gender, that often drives earnings.
I remember when Serena and Venus Williams first dominated the women’s tennis circuit, overpowering many of their opponents with remarkable strength and athleticism. They had numerous intense matches against athletes of all races, but race was never the focus—it was always about talent. Whether they won, lost, or drew, the players, regardless of their background, carried themselves with dignity, grace, and fairness. Their behavior not only elevated the sport but also honored their gender.
In contrast, the WNBA today seems to be entangled in a toxic mix of entitlement, racism, ego, and animosity. It’s not a positive example for young women, and it raises the question of what kind of lessons this environment is teaching the next generation.
The current culture of division, fueled by race and gender, shows no signs of fading anytime soon. It seems to be a driving force behind much of today’s societal discourse, and unfortunately, the results are anything but positive. This focus on identity has polarized people into separate groups, deepened divisions within communities, and given rise to a victim mentality that often lacks a foundation in merit, hard work, or fairness. While it would be foolish to deny that, for many years, things were unjustly stacked against Black men and women in numerous areas of life, two wrongs don't make a right. Reciprocating injustice doesn’t solve the problem. In fact, many of my generation, who faced a truly uneven playing field, found strength in that adversity. It pushed us to excel and prove not only that we could compete but often that we could outperform our competitors.
Now, however, the prevailing attitude seems to be one of entitlement—claiming positions through victimhood, complaint, and resentment rather than through effort and achievement. You cannot force people to watch something simply because of your race or gender; that’s not how life works. Caitlin Clark is making waves in the WNBA and earning recognition—both financially and critically—because she is an extraordinary player who brings excitement and talent to the game, drawing in audiences with her performance. That’s the reality. Those who attribute her success to white privilege or race are revealing their own insecurities and jealousy, unable to accept being outperformed by a White woman.
Unless the WNBA addresses this toxic mentality within its ranks (and let’s be honest, does it even want to?), it will remain a marginal sport. Instead of gaining recognition for athletic excellence, it risks being known more for the drama that unfolds when Caitlin Clark takes the court, rather than for the sport itself.
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