No more back to the kitchen as women explain the off-side rule
The Egyptian ear is attuned to football presenter Medhat Shalaby’s famous “Ya nahar abyad/What a day!”, and audiences know his catchphrases by heart. Even those who don’t follow football can recognize the distinctive voice of Tunisian commentator Issam Chaouali. But what if the voice behind the mic was a woman’s?
Likely with dismissals like “Do girls even understand football?”, “Leave football to men!”, or the tired refrain: “Get back to the kitchen!" Women creating football content online often face a barrage of such bias, discrimination and abuse, despite entering the field driven by a deep passion for the sport.
No substitutes left on the bench
Shimaa Adel, 33, is a journalist and football content creator whose videos reach tens of thousands on social media. From the beginning, her presence in this male-dominated domain was met with resistance.
“I began producing content in 2020 during the COVID-19 pandemic because of my genuine love for football and sports,” she said. “Initially, many followers on my Facebook page refused to accept that a woman analyze football instead of just watching it.” Her page, “The Fan with Shimaa,” now boasts more than 180,000 followers.
Her commitment to the field stems not from choice, but necessity. “I moved from Alexandria to Cairo and established myself here to continue working. I don’t have the luxury of giving up,” she said.
Unlike the antagonism she experienced online, her family and colleagues offered critical support during those early years. Yet even with that backing, the negativity lingered. “People would say, ‘You’re talented, but I just can’t accept a girl presenting football analysis,’” she recalled.
“Get back to the kitchen” was among the more restrained insults. “Those were the tame ones. Others were filthy and deeply personal,” Shimaa added.
Despite her avid support for Al Ahly, criticism came not only from fans of rival teams like Zamalek, but also from supporters of her own team. Over time, however, Shimaa's persistence paid off. Viewers now seek out her content, which focuses on in-depth tactical analysis rather than superficial commentary or sensational headlines.
A 2024 study by the Egyptian Observatory for Journalism and Media identified a troubling pattern of digital abuse targeting women journalists. Violations including online harassment, surveillance, cyberstalking, data breaches, and gendered threats are rampant.
Shimaa recounted one particularly difficult experience working on a TV program under a “prominent male pundit.” She described it as “tough and bitter,” explaining that “the department head was deeply conservative and openly dismissive of women, especially those who supported Al Ahly.” He didn’t even review her work before criticizing, and “continued to make my life difficult.”
She described this environment as emblematic of the wider culture of “male dominance” in sports analysis. “It felt like I was constantly being asked to prove I belonged, even as I outperformed some of my male colleagues. I secured exclusive stories for the program, but never once heard a ‘well done.’ Meanwhile, underperforming men received praise just for showing up.”
According to an August 2023 FIFA report, women hold only 12% of executive committee seats within national football associations, account for 9% of referees, and make up just 5% of coaches. Despite these dismal figures, the report acknowledged signs of incremental progress.
Playing through Hayatem’s shadow
Marwa Elmetwally, also 33, followed a similar path. Backed by her family, she began producing football-related content and immediately faced gendered pushback. Familiar barbs like “Get back to the kitchen” and “Girls don’t understand football” were common.
“Even if I nailed an opinion that most guys agreed with, they'd still act like I hacked into their sacred playbook,” said Marwa, a devoted Zamalek fan.
At first, Marwa was affected by the negativity. But she realized that anyone producing content—regardless of gender—would face criticism. “I decided to tune it out, even though at first, it stung,” she said. Instead, she made a point of responding to genuine questions or constructive criticism that pushed her to improve.
A 2018 global survey by the International Federation of Journalists/IFJ found that 64% of women journalists experienced online abuse, including death or rape threats, insults, devaluation of their work, sexist comments, being sent obscene images, and cyberbullying.
Negative comments were not Marwa’s only challenge. She recalled her early years in sports journalism in 2014, “Every time I interviewed players, I was warned about others who spread false stories or harassed women. It was exhausting,” she said. She eventually chose not to attend matches in person to avoid such encounters.
This cautious approach is rooted in a larger cultural framework that objectifies women in sports media. The archetype of the hyper-feminized sideline reporter is exemplified by actress Hayatem’s role in the film “Ghareeb fi Beity/A Stranger in My House”, where women are positioned as spectacles not specialists.
This stereotype persists. Football YouTuber Amr Shawky summed it up bluntly: “Football is embedded in our upbringing. We played it everywhere; in sports clubs, on dirt lots, in alleys. So when a guy analyzes it, it resonates. Even if he's not a professional. Girls didn’t live that.”
He offered a limited concession, “Does that mean there aren’t girls who can do it? No. Take Menna Heikal—her content is good and engaging. Even if she doesn’t do deep analysis, she’s a Zamalek fan and people like her. So girls can create content, just not any content.”
Still, “The Earth is Round” host and creator, Shawky, reverts to his male-chauvinist view regarding women’s work in sports analysis. He asserts that while there might be female content creators who present news in an entertaining way, “it’s difficult for women to be serious football analysts offering deep insights that convince me. That’s men’s territory.”
Kicking off a new half
Enter Sarah Mohsen, 30, whose TikTok account exploded in popularity, reaching over 170,000 followers and garnering 2 million likes within a year. Her videos blend match coverage, tactical breakdowns, and football news.
Contrary to Shawky’s view, Sarah rejects the notion that football is inherently male territory. Raised on the sport, she played it, followed it religiously, and pursued it professionally covering major tournaments.
“I was raised on football. My father always watched matches, and I inherited the love from him. I even played. As soon as I graduated, I joined the BBC, covered major tournaments, and interviewed players I admired. I proved at a young age that women can lead in this space, not just look good on camera,” Sarah told Al Manassa.
Despite her success, Sarah remembered her early days working at Al Ahly channel. “Some men criticized me just because I was a girl and supposedly didn’t understand football, even though sometimes I was talking about something they didn’t know themselves,” she said. But the fear faded within months. “I realized the audience would always criticize me for being a woman.”
She noted that the phrase “Back to the kitchen” is not unique to Egypt or the Arab world but part of a global phenomenon of gendered dismissal. She chose to ignore it.
Often, she said, discrimination turned into support, with fans writing comments like “Come on guys, let’s bake a cake in the kitchen since she knows football better than us.”
The issue is not confined to online platforms. In studios, women’s presence as football analysts remains exceptional. One example is Emirati analyst Noora Al-Marzooqi. In Egypt, women usually appear only as continuity announcers. The male superiority complex does not allow women to excel in football unless they behave like men or adopt a masculine appearance.
But Shimaa Adel refuses to mock teams or players, and Sarah Mohsen doesn’t adopt a rough tone. Together, they represent women who have broken into a field long reserved for men.
A version of this article first appeared in Arabic on July 17, 2025