When Sky Sports Halo appeared on my TikTok feed, I felt a wave of déjà vu. After the whole situation with the Financial Times and its attempt to explain women’s interest in hockey through romance novels, I thought the industry might start learning. Apparently not. Another major outlet has decided to create content “for women”, and once again, the result looks like someone dipped sports in pink sugar and hoped we would find it adorable.

I feel tired of calling this out, but here we are.

A TikTok channel that highlights women’s sport should feel exciting. Women’s sport deserves proper coverage, fresh storytelling, and consistent attention. Instead, Halo leans into a hyper-cute “girly pop” aesthetic. The captions sparkle, the graphics shimmer, and the overall tone feels less like a sports brand and more like a teenager’s sleepover slideshow. The message feels obvious: women can only enjoy sport if the presentation feels sweet, soft, and slightly silly.

Halo technically includes women’s sport, but the content rarely gives athletes the respect they deserve. We get “What’s in your bag?”, “Describe your morning routine”, and “Who forgets their bottle most often?” These ideas work if you post them occasionally, but Halo treats them like the heart of women’s sport. The channel ignores the intensity, drama, rivalries, grit, and intelligence that shape these competitions. Instead, it reduces talented professionals to a collection of cute quirks – as though anything more serious might scramble our girl brains.

A Broader Cultural Pattern

There is a long tradition of “girly pop” being used to delegitimise serious things. In music, for example, the term “girly pop” has often been used to diminish female artists by framing their work as frivolous or not real art. That same dynamic creeps into sports media: when women are presented through a pastel aesthetic and cutesy language, it subtly reinforces the idea that they are less serious, less worthy of the same grit as men.

This approach does more than infantilise women. It also infantilises sport. The platform treats men’s sport as something that requires simplification before women can understand it, as if tactics or physicality might confuse us unless someone wraps it in emojis. The whole thing feels condescending on multiple levels. It insults the athletes, the fans, and the idea that women engage with sport in a meaningful way.

Women spend years proving they belong in sports spaces. We answer trivia quizzes meant to “test” us. We watch commentators glide past women’s expertise during broadcasts. We deal with the assumption that we only show up for the vibes, the outfits, or the Instagram opportunities. So when Sky Sports announces a platform for women and then delivers a pastel-washed, watered-down version of sport, it does not feel like progress. It feels like a reset back to the stereotypes we keep fighting.

Fun absolutely belongs in sports media. Joy, personality, humour, playfulness, behind-the-scenes moments — all of that matters. But fun does not require dumbing down. And content for women does not need to follow a script that speaks to us like we are schoolchildren. We do not need a softer version of sport. We do not need a sparkly filter that hides the real stories. We do not need a “girls only” zone coated in glitter.

Sky Sports Halo could have taken women’s sport seriously and still created energetic, creative, entertaining content. Instead, it chose the safe option. It delivered the cute version, the easy version, the version that fits inside a marketing meeting rather than the real sporting world.

If Sky truly wants to champion women’s sport, it needs to stop guessing what women want and start listening to them. Women are already passionate, informed, opinionated and present in every corner of sport. Coverage should reflect that reality rather than painting us into a neon-pink corner.

Women do not need sport to bend toward them. Sport already belongs to us. Media companies just need to catch up.