Lina Nielsen remembers the moment she had the idea. She was sitting around the Olympic Village in Paris with her sprinting teammates – and she was bored. “I said to Yemi Mary John: ‘I’m gonna make this TikTok’,” Nielsen recalls. She took herself to her bedroom, got out the flip phone each athlete had been given and typed into an Excel spreadsheet: “Where you at? Holla at me.”
Her five-second spoof of Kelly Rowland’s music-video texting fail took hardly longer than that to make. It also got 8m views. “It’s funny that the videos that do that best are the ones you don’t put any effort in,” says Nielsen with a laugh. She is still trying to make sense of the fact that her TikTok channel was the most popular of any British athlete at the Games, beating even the knit-tastic Tom Daley in second place. At the end of the Olympic fortnight her channels had been viewed by more than the Australian and German teams combined.
Nielsen and her twin sister, Laviai – also competing in Paris – had joined the thousands of athletes sharing behind-the-scenes looks at village life, from chocolate muffins to cardboard beds. “It was a nice distraction because you’re so focused on competition and it can get a bit intense – social media just took your mind off things,” she says. Having fallen in the semi-finals of the 400m hurdles, Nielsen went on to help the British relay team to bronze in the 4x400m.
The so-called TikTok Olympics revealed a surprising trend in 2024: sportswomen outperforming sportsmen on social media. A Women in Sport Trust survey discovered that female athletes were responsible for 69% of all TeamGB’s TikTok content and 67% of all its views. Globally, female voices dominated the Paris conversation, from the Australian water polo ace Tilly Kearns to the Dutch skateboarder Keet Oldenbeuving.
The US gymnasts’ feeds became a narrative arc in their own right after MyKayla Skinner criticised her former teammates’ work ethic just before they took gold and Simone Biles posted a picture of the subsequent celebrations with the caption: “Lack of talent, lazy, Olympic champions.”
But the biggest breakout star of the Games was Ilona Maher, the US rugby star whose candour captured hearts with her trademark lipstick and faux Love Island videos from the Olympic village. The 28-year-old – who won a bronze with the US side in Paris and a runner-up medal in Dancing with the Stars – caused a sensation when she signed with Bristol Bears this month.
“I am not even going to make six figures playing rugby, that’s the sad truth,” Maher said in a recent interview. “Some people may think: ‘She’s not serious with what she’s doing, she’s posting on TikTok, she doesn’t care about the sport, she’s not going to be as good.’ No. I have to post on TikTok. That’s where I make most of my money.”
Her openness is a big part of her appeal. “She is just who she is,” says Ellie Boatman, the rugby sevens player who scored a try in Great Britain’s quarter-final against the US. “The reason why she’s so popular is because people know that she’s not trying to be someone else. She shares a lot around being in a bigger body – being a bit shy about that before and very proud of that now. I think that resonates with a lot of females.”
Boatman has built up a considerable following of her own – her kit run-through was Team GB’s most viewed video. Her online presence grew through her honest discussions of overcoming an eating disorder and Boatman believes that social media has encouraged sportswomen to present their more vulnerable side.
“As an athlete before, it was just about getting on with your job and working super hard,” says Boatman. “Now I think people are a lot more invested in the person behind the athlete – that’s where people can relate. Over the last year is we’re seeing a lot more stories around people’s journeys which is really cool.”
Relatability has become a USP in a sports industry where exorbitantly paid male athletes from Premier League footballers to NBA stars can appear to lose touch with reality, being swept up into academies and college programmes from their teens.
Jenny Mitton, the managing partner and women’s sport lead at the M&C Saatchi agency, says it makes sense that sportswomen should be natural communicators on socials – they have long had to raise their voices to be heard. “When they’re passionate, whether it’s about performing well or taking on inequality, there’s a real authenticity around what they’re saying,” says Mitton. “And that’s what flies on socials.”
The positives for female athletes who continue to struggle for mainstream media coverage are obvious – not least those in sports that are barely covered beyond the quadrennial events. The Paralympian Lottie McGuinness switched from swimming to power lifting in 2020: since then, she says: “I’ve trained four years for a moment that lasts less than 30 seconds.”
Her competitive action takes only a few seconds at a time – you could say that is a sport made for TikTok. Indeed, her content was the most viewed of any British athlete at the Paralympics. “In the lead-up to Paris I was uploading every single day,” says McGuinness. “I really enjoyed that, and I got into rhythm that really helped me. It was just great to expose the sport and show what it’s all about.”
But there is a dark side. Research commissioned by the International Olympic Committee and published by Loughborough University at the start of this year found that female athletes are disproportionately subject to abuse on social media, much of it related to their gender or sexuality. At the Olympics there was no better example of that disturbing and destructive trend than the case of the boxers Imane Khelif and Lin Yu-ting. The questions raised over their gender eligibility (by the International Boxing Association, which had banned them from the 2023 world championships) dominated the news agenda and invited the ugliest of online responses.
Dr Emily Hayday, one of the authors of the Loughborough report, says that it is important for sporting bodies to recognise where flashpoints are likely to occur and put systems in place to protect athletes. “Responsibility was the biggest issue we identified – who is responsible for safeguarding in these spaces? A great example is what the IOC did in implementing an AI-based system to track and identify abuse early. They could then provide targeted support to the relevant federations in how to manage it.”
Given that Khelif and Lin’s IBA disqualification took place more than a year before the Games, you could argue that the IOC should have addressed the issue far earlier in the process. Still, as the research found, social media backlash can do measurable damage to athletes’ careers and wellbeing. Take Rachael Louise Gunn, AKA Raygun, whose kangaroo-hopping performance in the breaking contest attracted widespread attention – and scorn. “I didn’t realise that would open the door to so much hate which has been frankly pretty devastating,” Gunn said at the time. She has since stepped back from competing.
The US gymnast Jordan Chiles received racist comments after she was downgraded from bronze after the floor final. She has used those experiences as fuel, not least in her continuing appeal against the decision which she describes as a bid for “my peace” and “my justice”. If anything, the controversy has only helped her profile: speaking with Teen Vogue, she said that the biggest positive was knowing she was “already a brand and just continuing to brand myself out”.
Branding and activism have become increasingly closely allied in women’s sport. Both Mitton and Hayday note that sportswomen are creating powerful identities that can then be used to advocate for various causes. “Because there has historically been more activism than in men’s sport, it’s part of the culture,” says Mitton. “And once someone sets a precedent, and you see other people speaking out more, you feel more comfortable to do so.”
Where male athletes can be hemmed in by the power of their clubs and corporate sponsors, some female athletes with individual followings have a bigger influence than either the club or league they play for. This year Caitlin Clark demonstrated how one athlete can transcend her sport and bring huge numbers of new fans into it for the first time, but she also acknowledged her white privilege after Time magazine named her athlete of the year.
It was vital, Clark said in her cover interview, to acknowledge the foundations and legacy of the Women’s National Basketball Association’s black players – “to appreciate that, highlight that, talk about that, and then continue to have brands and companies invest in those players that have made this league incredible”.
As someone living with multiple sclerosis, Lina Nielsen recognises the rise of female athlete power on social media to address the issues that matter to them. “I definitely want to use my voice to advocate for MS,” she says. “I’m quite fortunate in that I haven’t had many symptoms that have led to disability, but there are so many people living with disability, and struggling with issues around PIP claims.” She even found herself invited to the House of Commons after the Olympics, to discuss the subject with government figures. “That would not have happened had I not had a platform.”