

“I haven’t been to the gym in so long. I didn’t know women just dress like whores now? Look, I’m sorry, there’s no other way to describe it… [description of shorts and butts] And don’t look. You’re not allowed to look. For real, don’t look, because they are filming.” These were comedian Shane Gillis’ remarks on a recent episode of Saturday Night Live. In the same skit, he talked about how he had been jealous of boys with older brothers who might only be bullied homophobically, because “Women are, like, more psychological”. He even went on to describe his two older siblings, who raised him, as “Nasty… big, fat, bitch sisters.” The entire routine was received with just laughter, no booing, from the studio audience.
Shane’s misogyny is straightforward, and when comments like these are expressed today — especially on a global stage — one does feel a sense of surprise.
The narrative about women’s fitness has taken a positive turn in the last few years. Earlier, working out was always perceived as being weight loss-related, a result of well-established and punishing beauty standards. Increasingly, it has become about developing strength, deepening well-being, learning to prioritise oneself, and nurturing a sense of home in one’s own body. While harmful perspectives about beauty still persist, exercise is now a major component of larger conversations regarding health itself, including subjects like perimenopause, which had never before been acknowledged or understood. The notion that women may exercise in order to achieve something other than a certain aesthetic is upsetting to sexists. Shane’s fixation on apparel, and his insistence on reading the same as titillating rather than comfortable, is an attempt to recentre himself and other men.
This calls to mind why actor Sydney Sweeney was severely called out last month by women athletes for appearing in a demeaning advertisement for Novig, a company in which she is an equity partner. By choosing to sexualise women’s participation in sports, and using a dismissive phrase like “Just Sports” as a tagline, the commercial did a disservice to women whose careers have been built on perseverance, work ethic, and talent.
Even the latest season of Ted Lasso, a beautiful TV series about a cheerful American football coach who winds up training a soccer club in the UK, has left some women viewers cold. There has been a significant cast and plot pivot: Ted now coaches a women’s football team. While the show’s signature wholesomeness and ability to deal gently with complexity remain intact, it hasn’t quite managed yet to make its new ensemble as distinct and fully-fledged as its male characters had been. The interiority of women characters and the crafting of their narrative arcs are things that many male creators grapple with. This can be a blindspot even for those whose politics are better-informed.
All kinds of things have kept women out of sports through time, systemically, and societally. All kinds of things keep women out of gyms too, but the number one impediment is probably perverts. The Shane Gillises of the world are most welcome to continue to stay out of such spaces.
Shane’s misogyny is straightforward, and when comments like these are expressed today — especially on a global stage — one does feel a sense of surprise.