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When Professor Pirkko Markula-Denison sat down to co-edit a new handbook on gender and sport management, she wasn’t just filling a gap in scholarship—she was exposing one.

“There’s quite a lot of stuff on women athletes,” she said. “But there’s not that much literature on women leaders in sport. That’s why we wanted to have a specific focus on women leaders and the diversity that is then leadership.”

The , co-edited with colleague Annalise Knoppers, is one of the first comprehensive attempts to bring feminist theory into the heart of sport management. It addresses the stubborn reality that, despite the rise of women athletes on the world stage—from World Cup stadiums to the Olympic podium—leadership positions in sport remain overwhelmingly male.

Quotas, but no power

Markula-Denison says that international sport organizations have often addressed calls for equity by introducing quotas. But quotas, she argues, have clear limits.

“Yes, you may see more women present,” she explains. “But that doesn’t necessarily translate into decision-making power or the ability to drive change. Women remain in the minority — rarely a chair, rarely a president.”

She adds that this gap isn’t about ability but about socialization: “We weren’t raised to be leaders. Leadership isn’t innate — it comes from upbringing and confidence.” And in many cultures, she continues, stepping forward is particularly difficult for women, as leadership has long been coded masculine and confidence is judged differently across genders.

Feminist perspectives missing in action

Sport management scholarship, Markula-Denison explains, has long been shaped by what she calls a “liberal feminist” lens — one that focuses narrowly on equal access. “That’s where you get quotas or policies designed simply to get women in the room,” she says.

But deeper questions remain: What happens once women are inside? What limits their ability to act, to shape policy, or even to be recognized as leaders?

Other feminist perspectives emphasize the lived experience of women in sport, she notes: “It’s often about how we look, whether we have nice hair. When women speak up, we’re labeled aggressive. For men, that’s expected. For women, it’s penalized.”

Critical feminist theory, meanwhile, interrogates the broader ideological context — “the assumption that women coaches must be nurturing, taking care of everyone’s problems, rather than being seen as decisive leaders,” Markula-Denison says

Coaching on the margins

One of the handbook’s most revealing sections examines coaching — a deliberate focus, Markula-Denison says, because coaches are not only technical experts but also everyday leaders who shape culture. “There is literature on women and coaching,” she explains, “but not so much from a leadership perspective.”

The chapters show how gendered expectations complicate authority on the sidelines. In U.S. collegiate sport, for example, women strength coaches working with male athletes often had to prove physical power alongside technical expertise — a demand rarely placed on men. International case studies add to the picture: in South Korea, women navigate rigid hierarchies, while elsewhere harassment and subtle pressures — being cast as approachable, endlessly available, or penalized when showing authority — remain common.

These barriers multiply when gender intersects with other identities. Women with disabilities are still almost absent from leadership roles in Paralympic sport, while mothers face a double bind: “If you leave practice early, you’re penalized,” Markula-Denison says. “If you don’t, you’re criticized for not caring for your children. Men don’t face that.”

Theory as a tool for change

The handbook emphasizes theory not for its own sake, but as a tool for change. “If we just critique and say, ‘It’s terrible,’ that’s not enough,” Markula-Denison explains. “Theoretical perspectives help us ask: Why is this happening? Why aren’t quotas working? Why does the culture remain so masculine?”

Newer approaches, such as “new materialism,” even consider how environments and objects shape leadership dynamics. “It asks us not just to look at people but at the material world around us,” she says.

For students and scholars, the aim is to broaden the field itself. “Sport management is still very traditional,” she notes. “It’s dominated by quantitative approaches and not very accepting of feminist or even qualitative research. My hope is that this handbook opens the discipline to new ways of thinking.”

The future of sport leadership

Ultimately, Markula-Denison hopes the handbook will shape not only scholarship but also practice. “Why not study men, too? Why is it all men in leadership? What are they thinking? Why?” she asks. “This kind of research can only enrich the field.”

She points to the sold-out women’s World Cup as proof that the public appetite is already there. “Those stadiums were full. People see the value,” she says. “The question is whether sport leadership is ready to catch up.”

For her, the path forward lies in theory that challenges assumptions, in intersectional perspectives that reveal blind spots, and in the persistence of scholars who refuse to let sport management remain static. “Change won’t happen overnight,” Markula-Denison says. “But if we keep pushing, listening, and widening the lens, the future of sport leadership can look very different.”