When the UAAP almost paid women’s basketball referees less than their men’s division counterparts, it felt like déjà vu.
In September 2025, the UAAP offered lower rates for those officiating women’s games. “Mas mabilis ang laro sa lalaki,” UAAP Basketball Commissioner Jai Reyes told SPIN.ph, claiming the men’s division was “harder to officiate.”
(The game is faster for men.)
Beneath that justification is an old assumption: women’s sports—and the labor behind them—naturally deserve less. After the backlash it had received, the UAAP quietly revised their pay structure into a more “uniform scale.” However, the impulse behind it was telling, one that I notice echoing across the broader sports ecosystem. From the court to my personal experience, this discrimination extends even in the press room.
Like many women in the field, I have observed uneven access to opportunities and growth. Credentials, assignments, and positions are frequently allocated in ways that favor men, even when women have similar, or even better, qualifications.
The disparity I have discerned is cultural as much as structural. It reflects an environment that has been shaped from childhood, where sports are considered as a boy’s domain and girls have to work twice as hard just to be taken seriously for liking or playing the same game.
When I entered The LaSallian as a sports journalist in 2022, I was one of only a handful of women writers in a section dominated by men. In my observation, inequality was neither loud nor hostile; instead, it moved subtly through how conversations gravitated toward the men’s leagues; how certain voices filled the room faster; how some opinions were taken as expertise while others, often women, felt like they needed to make their voices louder.
As my responsibilities as a sports journalist grew, I began encountering other forms of discrimination: access, assignments, and visibility. Although they seem like small currencies, they accumulate into opportunities and ultimately shape career trajectories. Even with proper credentials, women often have to justify why they deserve to be in certain spaces, while men are assumed to belong.
For a time, I found myself navigating limited access despite consistent work, while others with less experience were moved ahead. They progressed with no bad intentions or grand conspiracies; it was just a familiar hierarchy where “familiarity with the game” is often coded as “male by default.” Then, questioning these patterns or fighting for your deserved privilege often ends in a futile “he said, she said” stalemate, where the woman finds herself compromising just to gain half a step toward progress.
After finally earning my UAAP accreditation, the media room revealed another arena of disparity. It was filled mostly with men—writers, photographers, and analysts. During press conferences, men’s basketball players drew packed rooms and extended interviews, while the women’s teams faced half-empty rooms and truncated coverages. The pattern was clear: women’s sports received less attention, and that imbalance extended to those who covered them.
While progress exists, the culture continues to rely on old assumptions, perpetuating disparities like the UAAP pay gap.
The UAAP’s quiet revision of their unjust referee pay amplified the dynamic: inequality can be corrected, a middle ground can be agreed upon, but the assumptions behind them remain and continue to shape who is seen and heard, and whose work is valued. This is a reminder that correcting a single policy does not dismantle the underlying structures that produce inequity.
As an instinctive response, women often try code-switching, mirroring the tone of the room, amplifying their presence, just to be acknowledged and respected. I have tried this myself until I realized that compliance beyond the work expected is not a proof of strength, but a symptom of a system that tolerates disparity.
Over the years, I have gained not only confidence, but also a sense of responsibility to speak on these gaps. I have learned that writing about pay, perception, or even the participation of women in sports is not just part of my work—it is part of why I do it.
Whether it is a referee’s paycheck or a media pass, the game is often played by unequal rules. And even when the odds are stacked against me, I will keep playing the same game, because staying and documenting has always forced the system to reckon.
