The Women’s National Basketball Association (WNBA), now in its 29th season, operates under the financial and organizational umbrella of the National Basketball Association (NBA). Despite its affiliation with the wildly successful NBA, which generated $13 billion in revenue in 2024, the WNBA has never turned a profit since its inception in 1997.
Last year alone, the league reportedly lost $40 million, even with a surge in attention driven by stars like Caitlin Clark. Yet, during the 2025 WNBA All-Star Game, players took to the court in warm-up shirts emblazoned with “Pay Us What You Owe Us,” demanding higher salaries and a greater share of league revenue, some even pushing for pay parity with their NBA counterparts. This protest, while bold, ignores economic realities and reflects a troubling sense of entitlement that overlooks the league’s precarious financial state and its dependence on NBA subsidies.
The WNBA’s financial struggles are well-documented. Unlike the NBA, which splits its basketball-related income roughly 50/50 between players and owners, WNBA players receive just 9.3% of the league’s revenue, which was estimated at $200 million in 2023.
This disparity exists because the WNBA’s revenue streams, such as ticket sales, media rights, and merchandise, pale in comparison to the NBA’s. For instance, while NBA games average 18,700 fans with tickets costing $97 to $500, WNBA games draw about 9,800 fans at $20 to $150 per seat. The WNBA’s media rights deal, though recently boosted to $2.2 billion over 11 years, is a fraction of the NBA’s $76 billion deal. The WNBA’s inability to generate substantial revenue has led to persistent losses, with the NBA covering an estimated $15 million annually to keep the league afloat. Without this subsidy, the WNBA might not exist.
Despite these economic constraints, players are demanding salaries closer to those of NBA players, whose average pay exceeds $13 million compared to the WNBA’s $102,249. Some, like WNBPA Vice President Napheesa Collier, argue they deserve a “larger piece of the pie that we helped create.” However, the claim that players are “owed” more is undermined by the league’s lack of profitability.
The WNBA’s 2024 viewership, while improved at 1.1 million average viewers per game (up from 500,000 in 2023), still lags far behind the NBA’s 11.3 million for the 2024 Finals. Contrary to some narratives, viewership is not “down” but growing, largely due to the “Caitlin Clark effect.” Yet, even this surge hasn’t translated into profits, as expenses like $25 million annually for charter flights and rising salary caps outpace revenue gains.
The demand for NBA-level pay ignores the fundamental economic principle that salaries reflect the value generated for consumers. NBA players command higher salaries because their games draw larger audiences, more lucrative sponsorships, and higher ticket prices. WNBA players, while talented, operate in a league that struggles to fill arenas and relies on NBA charity. The push for parity feels less like a call for fairness and more like an expectation of entitlement, disconnected from the market realities that govern professional sports.
Players like Breanna Stewart and Angel Reese have even threatened a strike if demands aren’t met by October 2025, a move that could jeopardize the league’s fragile momentum. A work stoppage risks alienating fans and sponsors, further threatening the WNBA’s viability.
This sense of entitlement is emblematic of a broader cultural trend where demands for reward outstrip contributions. The WNBA players’ protest shirts suggest they believe they’re owed pay not because of their league’s financial success but because of their effort or perceived fairness. Yet, as economist Claudia Goldin’s flawed argument for WNBA salaries being one-quarter to one-third of NBA salaries illustrates, such claims often rely on abstract notions of equity rather than concrete economic value.
Goldin’s formula overlooks that the WNBA’s unprofitability limits its ability to pay, regardless of viewership comparisons. The players’ focus on what they’re “owed” dismisses the reality that their league’s survival hinges on NBA support and the goodwill of fans who have stuck with it despite decades of losses.
To be clear, no one disputes the WNBA players’ athletic prowess or dedication. Stars like Caitlin Clark, who has driven unprecedented attention to the league, deserve recognition for their impact. However, demanding pay that the league cannot sustain risks undermining the progress made. The WNBA is at a crossroads, with expansion teams in Cleveland, Detroit, and Philadelphia and a new media deal signaling potential growth. Instead of protest, players could focus on building the league’s brand through community engagement, consistent performance, and embracing stars like Clark who draw crowds. The path to higher pay lies in making the WNBA profitable, not in demanding a share of profits that don’t exist.
If WNBA players want a fairer share, they must first help create a league that generates surplus value. Until then, their demands reflect an entitlement culture that ignores the economic lifeline provided by the NBA and the fans who continue to support a league that, after 28 years, has yet to stand on its own.
