Sports advertising has always sold more than the sport itself. It sells ambition, discipline, competition, aspiration and, increasingly, personality. But when the spotlight falls on women, the creative conversation can quickly move away from what they do on the field, court or lifting platform to how they look.
That tension has resurfaced following the reaction to Sydney Sweeney’s partnership with sports betting platform Novig, alongside the online treatment of Indian powerlifter Keyaa Kunal Banerji, whose photographs were reportedly manipulated into AI-generated content without her consent.
The two cases are fundamentally different. Sweeney is a celebrity and equity holder in Novig, rather than an athlete being represented in a sports campaign. Banerji is a competitive athlete whose images were allegedly repurposed without her consent. Yet both have prompted a broader question for advertising and sports marketing: when does attention around a woman’s image begin to overshadow the person, performance or purpose behind it?
For Toru Jhaveri, Founder and Strategy Lead, The Stuff of Life, the issue is rooted in a much older advertising and cultural pattern. “The sexualisation of women, particularly of a certain ‘type’ of woman, is age-old,” she says, arguing that brands have historically profited from reducing female talent to the body. In sport, she believes this can diminish an athlete’s authority by turning her into an object of visual consumption.
At the same time, Jhaveri sees evidence that the industry has become more conscious of where audiences draw the line. She points to fewer examples of overt sexualisation than a decade ago and says brands understand that consumers do not necessarily want to see that boundary crossed.
The distinction, then, is not whether a woman athlete can look glamorous or sensual. It is who controls the portrayal and what the creative is actually asking the audience to notice. “Athlete would want to look good on screen. The question is whether that portrayal caters to the male gaze.” She argues that campaigns should give greater weight to strength, fitness, form and ability rather than reducing women to thinness or attractiveness.
That argument is echoed by Senior Marketing and Growth Strategist Ronita Mitra, who believes the starting point should be the values inherent to sport itself. “Sport is about performance, resilience, ambition, achievement, built on years of rigorous and disciplined training. A sportswoman is also a role model for an entire generation of girls,” Mitra says. For her, the simplest test is also one of the most revealing: if sexuality were removed, would there still be a compelling sports story? And would the same creative treatment have been used for a male athlete? “If not, the woman has effectively become the product,” she adds.
Attention is not the same as relevance
For brands, however, provocation has a very obvious commercial attraction: people talk about it. That is particularly relevant to the Novig campaign. Jennifer Mulchandani, Co-Founder, Acture Media, points out that a campaign positioned around “Just Sports” generated a conversation that was largely about everything except sports, while brand mentions increased by more than 900%.
There is a strategic logic to that outcome. A relatively lesser-known category can benefit from a creative idea that creates immediate curiosity, debate and social conversation. But Mulchandani draws a distinction between being attention-heavy and being relevant.
Novig also chose Sweeney, a globally recognisable actress rather than an athlete, which further complicates the discussion around representation. Mulchandani argues that casting someone because they are famous or visually attention-grabbing can create awareness without necessarily establishing a meaningful connection with the brand or category.
For Shashank Shekhar Mishra, Founder Director, Sports Konnect, the same principle applies more broadly to athlete partnerships. “Attention is valuable, but attention alone isn’t the same as brand value,” he says. Elite athletes bring what he calls “earned credibility” through their performance, ambition, personality and journey. Those qualities give brands material that does not have to be manufactured through provocation.
His suggested creative question is straightforward: “What makes this athlete exceptional?” rather than “How do we make them attractive?” That does not mean removing glamour or sensuality from sports advertising. Mishra is clear that women athletes should have the same creative freedom as anyone else. The difference lies in whether the portrayal reflects the athlete’s identity and choices, or whether appearance becomes the entire idea.
Give athletes a voice in the commercial story
This is where the conversation moves beyond casting. Mishra believes brands and agencies are likely to have more deliberate conversations around representation, athlete involvement and creative direction following controversies such as these. The strongest partnerships, he argues, are those in which athletes have a genuine voice in shaping their commercial stories.
Mulchandani makes a similar point, but with an important caveat. Moving from sexualised portrayals to exclusively inspirational, powerful or achievement-led portrayals could simply create another restrictive template for women.
Women athletes can be strong, glamorous, funny, vulnerable, competitive or sensual, she says. The real question is whether the creative gives them agency or turns their appearance into the campaign idea.
She suggests an especially useful test for agencies: if the athlete’s face were removed from the campaign, would her story, expertise or sporting identity still be integral to the idea? If the answer is no, brands may need to reconsider why she was cast in the first place.
The Novig distinction matters
Riya Rajkumar Sharma, Counsel, AM Sports Law and Management Co, brings another dimension to the discussion: control over image and likeness. In Sweeney’s case, she is not simply a celebrity lending her name to Novig. She is also an equity holder in the company, which gives her a stronger commercial interest in how the brand represents her. According to Sharma, that position can provide greater scope to negotiate how her name, image and likeness are used.
Sharma also cautions against describing the Novig campaign as a straightforward example of the sexualisation of women athletes. Sweeney is not presented as an athlete, and the advertisement is for a betting platform rather than a campaign promoting sport or women in sport.
That distinction does not make the criticism disappear. Sharma acknowledges that much of the reaction has centred on the perception that sexualisation was being used to attract attention, including male attention. Such an approach can generate conversation, but brands also have to consider whether it alienates audiences they want to engage. From an advertising perspective, however, the level of discussion around Novig was clearly part of the campaign’s objective, Sharma says.
When the image is no longer yours
The Keyaa Banerji case raises a more direct question of consent. Where an athlete’s photographs are taken and manipulated into AI-generated content without permission, Sharma says Indian athletes have several potential avenues for recourse. These can include takedown notices to platforms, platform grievance mechanisms and, where necessary, court injunctions.
Indian courts have recognised personality and publicity rights over an individual’s name, image and likeness, including in cases involving AI-generated or morphed content. Copyright claims may also arise where the athlete owns the original photographs. Depending on the material involved, provisions of the Information Technology Act and applicable IT Rules can provide additional remedies, particularly where impersonation, privacy violations or sexually explicit content are involved.
The practical challenge, however, can be tracing responsibility. Content can be created anonymously, passed through AI tools, uploaded through multiple accounts and replicated across platforms before an athlete even becomes aware of it. By then, identifying the original creator can be difficult.
That makes the debate around representation bigger than a question of whether advertising should be provocative. It is ultimately about who controls the story.
Jhaveri sees the broader representational needle moving, while Mishra argues for greater athlete involvement. Mulchandani cautions against replacing one stereotype with another. Sharma’s legal perspective adds another layer: the right to have a say in how one’s image is commercially used does not necessarily translate into control over what happens once that image enters the wider digital ecosystem.
For brands, the creative opportunity may therefore be less about choosing between glamour and achievement, and more about giving women the same breadth of creative possibility afforded to men.
The most useful question may not be whether a woman athlete can be glamorous, provocative or commercially compelling. It may simply be whether she is being seen as a complete person, athlete and partner in the idea, rather than merely as the idea itself.
