From the Cricket Press Box to Social Media: Technology Has Changed, but Misogyny Against Female Sports Journalists Remains

An old cricket photograph and a changing question

It was a five-run defeat, but what followed became one of cricket's most enduring images. England beat India by five runs in an ODI at Mumbai's Wankhede Stadium. Andrew Flintoff celebrated by running across the outfield, twirling his shirt. Sourav Ganguly later answered with his famous shirt-waving celebration from the Lord's balcony. Cricket had produced a memorable story of rivalry, emotion and public theatre.

Yet cricket's stories are made beyond the boundary. For the female journalist covering that match, the memory also belonged to a profession in which male presence was ordinary and a woman's presence could itself become a subject of discussion. More than two decades later, grounds have changed, broadcasting has changed and audiences carry the game in their phones. But an old problem facing women journalists has acquired a new digital form.

Women in cricket journalism once faced professional prejudice; social media has turned much of that prejudice into a weapon available around the clock.

I have spent years trying to read cricket through the structures surrounding it, rather than through scorecards and individual performances alone. From press boxes to broadcast studios and digital platforms, the same question keeps returning: has cricket's growing popularity made its journalism more inclusive, or are women simply paying a higher price for becoming more visible?

A profession changing its face

The difficulties faced by female sports journalists did not begin with social media. In traditional journalism, women often had to work harder than male colleagues to establish their professional credibility. Their numbers in press boxes were limited. A woman arriving to cover a major international fixture could find that her presence was noticed before her reporting was assessed.

The journalist recalls that women were severely underrepresented in the press contingent at Wankhede. She was one of only two women. Her work required an understanding of players, tactics and match conditions, but the professional environment also required her to establish her legitimacy repeatedly. Being compared with a male predecessor illustrated how occupying the same position and receiving equal professional respect could remain two separate challenges.

Her career took her through several important cricket events. The 2026 World Cup, the controversial 2026–08 India-Australia series, the 2026 T20 World Cup and the 2026 World Cup provided opportunities to observe international cricket at close quarters. Interviews with figures such as Sachin Tendulkar, Shane Warne and Brian Lara also formed part of her professional experience. She later worked as cricket editor at NDTV 24x7.

The importance of these achievements lies less in personal celebration than in the professional journey they represent. A journalist's expertise should not be determined by gender. Yet women in cricket media have often had to prove their right to occupy a space before their reporting can be judged on its merits.

The old press box suffered from a lack of representation; the digital era has expanded representation without necessarily delivering respect or safety. That is the central contradiction in the industry's transformation.

Social media: greater access or a new arena for abuse?

In 2026, the journalist wrote an article questioning the male gaze and the presentation of women in IPL broadcasting. It attracted a substantial online reaction. Much of the criticism focused less on her arguments than on her identity. She was dismissed as jealous and labelled a feminist. The response showed how questioning the representation of women in cricket entertainment could become a trigger for personal attacks.

Social media was not yet the indispensable distribution channel for cricket journalism that it is today. Cricket discussion now reaches audiences through short videos, reels and selected clips on platforms such as Instagram and TikTok. A minute or two is extracted from a longer programme, edited and published separately. The purpose is to reach more viewers, stimulate discussion and increase the visibility of the original show.

In this system, audiences often encounter the extract rather than the original conversation. The context of a complicated political or social observation can disappear. A sentence presented in isolation may acquire a meaning very different from the one intended in the full discussion. Viewers react, posts are shared and the controversy expands. The journalist's expertise and complete argument can be displaced by a viral fragment.

The commercial structure of digital media matters here. Impressions, views and engagement have become important measures of content distribution. A provocative extract can travel faster than a careful discussion. This does not make every short video irresponsible, but when commercial incentives are tied to the intensity of audience reaction, preserving context becomes an editorial responsibility.

Digital platforms have brought journalists closer to audiences, but they have also weakened the boundary between criticism and harassment. A disagreement that once appeared in an editorial letter or public debate can now arrive through private messages, abusive comments and a continuous stream of hostile posts.

Watching cricket broadcasting evolve, I have noticed that people appearing in front of the camera now address more than an audience. They also face the speed of algorithms and the immediate reaction of online crowds. Viewers have every right to disagree with an expert. That is part of democratic debate. But when disagreement becomes an attack on a woman's appearance, sexuality, race or private life, it has ceased to be a cricket argument.

When criticism becomes an attack on identity

In the journalist's experience, online abuse became more aggressive over time. She encountered sexist insults, racist comments, political accusations and sexualized attacks. Some messages included threats of physical violence. This is more than an unpleasant online experience. It concerns a journalist's professional life, public presence and personal safety.

Audiences have the right to criticize a cricket journalist's opinion. If an analysis is wrong, it should be challenged with evidence. If a comment is biased, its reasoning should be examined. But targeting a woman because of her body, gender, skin colour or private relationships destroys the possibility of a debate that might otherwise improve understanding of the game.

The distinction becomes particularly important when female journalists express opinions on politically sensitive issues. Relations between Indian and Pakistani cricket provide an example. The selection of Pakistani player Abrar Ahmed by Sunrisers Leeds, an Indian-owned franchise in The Hundred, became part of a wider political discussion. Sunil Gavaskar made comments linking the purchase of Pakistani players with the deaths of Indian soldiers and civilians. The journalist challenged that argument.

Her criticism prompted a sharp online reaction. A professional question—whom a franchise should select—became entangled with national identity and political emotion. For a franchise, recruitment may involve sporting quality, availability and team requirements. For some sections of the audience, the same decision can become a test of national loyalty.

This increases both the responsibility and the risk faced by journalists. Established cricket figures retain considerable influence over public debate. Their comments can shape the conversation. But if a journalist who challenges a prominent former player becomes a target of personal attacks, professional independence is weakened.

National feeling has a legitimate place in cricket, but political disagreement cannot become a licence to attack a female journalist's identity. Journalism must examine popular opinion as well as report it.

IPL entertainment and the representation of women

Gender inequality in cricket extends beyond the treatment of journalists. The entertainment products built around the game also deserve scrutiny. The journalist questions the presentation of cheerleaders in the IPL. In her view, the presence of predominantly white women and the emphasis on their bodies raise questions about colourism and patriarchal attitudes in the cultural and social context of Indian cricket.

The issue is not simply the nationality of the women performing at a league. The deeper question concerns how female performers are presented and how much recognition their professional skills receive. Are they independent performers whose work forms part of the sporting event, or are they used primarily as decorative attractions designed to capture the audience's attention?

Colourism is an important part of this debate. Preferences that associate lighter skin with greater attractiveness have long been discussed across the entertainment industry. When cricket's commercial structure adopts such preferences, it does more than reflect audience taste; it can also reinforce it.

The journalist refers to the NFL, saying that eight of its 32 teams had eliminated cheerleaders. That figure has not been independently verified in the supplied material and should therefore be treated as an attributed reference rather than proof of a wider industry trend. Even so, it raises a broader question: are sporting institutions beginning to reconsider older commercial models of presenting women?

Balance is important. Cheerleading is not inherently incompatible with women's dignity. The problem emerges when selection, presentation and promotion reduce women's identities to appearance rather than recognizing performance. Equality does not require eliminating a role; it requires professional respect, meaningful choice and equal opportunity for those who participate in it.

The commercial success of sporting entertainment will be more sustainable when female performers are valued for their skills and professional identities.

The contradiction the cricket industry may overlook

The most uncomfortable part of this story is the tendency to treat greater visibility as sufficient evidence of progress. Female presenters now appear at major events. They sit on expert panels, analyse matches and host digital programmes. Yet visibility on screen and equality at work can remain far apart.

A female journalist attracting a larger audience is not necessarily safer. Greater reach can mean greater public recognition and, potentially, greater exposure to abuse. The consequences of abusive comments under a viral video do not end with that day's discussion. Before speaking, posting or expressing an opinion on a controversial issue again, a journalist may have to consider the possible consequences.

This is where cricket institutions, broadcasters and digital platforms acquire responsibility. Telling a journalist that this is simply how the internet works is no solution. A post containing an explicit threat of violence should not be treated as ordinary criticism. Publishers need procedures for escalating complaints, assessing serious threats and obtaining security advice when necessary. Platforms need effective reporting systems and clear enforcement standards for gender-based and racist harassment.

Broadcasters also have responsibilities beyond displaying diversity on camera. They should provide journalists and presenters with digital-safety support, procedures for reporting harassment and assistance during crises. Editorial institutions must make clear that public criticism is acceptable, while threats and identity-based abuse are incompatible with professional debate.

The future talent pool is also at stake. If young female journalists see that even after developing cricket expertise they must continually prove their ability while enduring personal attacks, some may avoid public-facing roles. That would deprive cricket journalism of more than female participation. It would lose different experiences, perspectives and questions.

There is an economic contradiction too. Digital platforms need audience attention. Controversy and intense reactions can sometimes increase distribution. But an environment in which journalists face sustained harassment makes it harder for experienced specialists to remain in visible roles. Short-term engagement should not come at the expense of long-term editorial quality.

I have always paid attention to the places where the scoreboard stops explaining the game. An empty press-box seat, a journalist falling unexpectedly silent or an unusual reaction spreading online after a broadcast can point towards larger institutional questions. Growing audience numbers and improved journalist safety are two separate achievements; the cricket industry should not mistake them for the same measure of success.

The way forward: who is responsible?

Blaming one group will not be enough. Social-media companies must act effectively against threats and gender-based harassment. Cricket boards and franchises should support respectful public debate in their communications. Broadcasters and publishers need clear safety and complaint procedures for female journalists. Audiences must also recognize the basic difference between disagreeing with an expert and attacking her private life.

Journalistic independence does not mean freedom from accountability. The opinions of female journalists should be examined, just as those of male journalists are. Their mistakes should be judged by the same professional standards. But criticism should be based on their arguments, reporting and evidence, not on their gender or identity.

Cricket has often helped reshape its social environment. The growing popularity of women's cricket, new broadcasting opportunities and the reach of digital media have widened the game's audience. The expansion will only represent genuine progress when the women covering cricket can ask questions, disagree and earn respect for their expertise without fear.

The presence of women in every new broadcast studio is a beginning; the real test is whether they can speak independently and safely once they are there.

The five-run defeat at Wankhede and the shirt-waving image at Lord's will remain part of cricket's memory. But another image must now be shaped for the game's future: a female journalist in the press box, her notebook open, the match unfolding on screen and her phone free from the threat of abuse. That would be an important change for the next generation of cricket. The question is whether the sport's administrators, media industry and audiences are prepared to treat that change with the seriousness they reserve for a major record on the field.