Sydney Sweeney shows authorship doesn’t always equate to authenticity
The actress’s controversial advert with sports betting firm Novig shows that despite the advances made in women’s sport, the industry still reaches for the same tropes.
· Marketing WeekBy Helen James 16 Sep 2026 4:41 pm
Sydney Sweeney’s new advert for Novig, a sports prediction and trading platform, has been widely reported as having “sparked backlash”. It’s a strange way to describe what happened. The phrase suggests an accident, a spark landing on dry material, rather than something built to catch fire.
Sydney Sweeney’s new advert for Novig, a sports prediction and trading platform, has been widely reported as having “sparked backlash”. It’s a strange way to describe what happened. The phrase suggests an accident, a spark landing on dry material, rather than something built to catch fire.
And the detail most coverage has treated as a footnote is the one that undoes that framing entirely. Sweeney did not simply accept a brief. She approached Novig’s founders herself, negotiated an equity stake in place of a standard fee, and worked as creative lead on the campaign’s messaging.
This was not a deal she stepped into. It was one she designed.
That fact changes which question is worth asking. The usual test I reach for, when a woman’s image is used to sell something, is who authored it and who profited from the decision. Normally the discomfort sits in the gap: someone else’s idea, someone else’s profit, her body doing the work.
Here there is no gap. Sweeney wrote the brief, directed the tone and holds the equity. On authorship terms, this is about as clean a case of ownership as advertising produces, and her right to display and profit from her own image is real.
But settling authorship does not settle authenticity. They are not the same question, even though her ownership of the deal makes it tempting to treat one as an answer to the other. This is also where two long-standing feminist positions genuinely disagree, rather than one being obviously correct. One holds that a woman’s consent and profit settle the matter, that an image she has chosen and is paid for is hers to defend on her own terms. The other holds that consent doesn’t neutralise effect, that what an image does once it is public doesn’t depend on who signed off on it.
Brands need to wake up to the true value of women’s sportI’m not trying to settle that argument on Sweeney’s behalf. What I can say is that she arrives at this campaign with more genuine authority than almost any subject this test has examined, not cast in the image but credited for designing it and paid as its owner. Having that authority, she still reached for the oldest image in the category.
A campaign built this deliberately and then discussed by its star as a “fun idea” that simply caught fire, asks to be read as spontaneous when it was, by her own account and Novig’s, the opposite. Calling the backlash unpredictable understates the case. It is at least as plausible that the backlash was priced in from the start, a known and useful cost of the “just sports” pitch cutting through a crowded launch.
The response has come almost entirely from within women’s sport. The Female Athlete Project put it bluntly: “It’s incredible they could fit so much misogyny in 40 seconds.”
Olympic and Commonwealth athletes made similar arguments in gentler language, that selling sport through nudity undercuts a decade of work to have women’s sport watched, paid and judged on its own terms.
Sweeney answered on Instagram Stories with images of Serena Williams and Megan Rapinoe, photographed nude or semi-nude earlier in their careers, implying continuity rather than departure.
Williams and Rapinoe, though, posed at the height of established careers for a project explicitly celebrating athletic bodies. Whether that licenses a betting-adjacent product, timed to the football season and built to sell trades rather than sport, to borrow the same visual language, is a genuinely open question.
Earning a seat at the table isn’t the same as being given room to lead from itWhat interests me most is the timing. This is, by most measures, the best commercial year women’s sport has had. Deloitte expects women’s elite sport to pass £3bn in global revenue in 2026, up around a quarter on 2025 and over 300% since 2022.
Even primetime comedy has caught up. Ted Lasso handed its comeback season to a women’s team rather than the men’s one and built its story around the inequities they face. Brands that would not have gone near a women’s team five years ago are signing sponsorships at record rates. The pitch behind that growth has been consistent: women’s sport is now valuable on the same terms as men’s, worth the same rights fees for reasons of skill, drama and competition.
Sweeney’s ownership of the campaign does not change what it teaches other brands about what still cuts through. It is a case study in reaching for the body first, made this time by an owner rather than an outside hire, at the exact moment the industry insists it has stopped needing to.
This is also the second time in just over a year that Sweeney has sat at the centre of this argument, after last year’s American Eagle campaign. Two cycles in, the pattern worth naming isn’t about her judgement. It’s a wider feature of how public figures now build value: courting controversy as a deliberate strategy, converting attention into equity, and daring critics to prove the exposure wasn’t the plan all along.
None of this needs a villain, including Sweeney. I’ve asked before, watching the Lionesses and the uneven ways their leadership got read against their male counterparts, whether recognition for women in sport keeps arriving a news cycle behind the investment.
The Novig moment sharpens that question rather than answering it. If a woman fully authors, owns and profits from a campaign like this, does that settle the argument I keep returning to, or does it just relocate it: not what the industry expects of women in sport, but what it still can’t stop reaching for, no matter how much has changed around it?