Mary Earps and the dangers of the 'girl-bossification' of women's sport
When 'girlboss' personas and toxic-positivity clash in the women’s game
Any woman that has grown up in the 21st century has probably become familiar with the term “girlboss”.
I first came across it in the 2010s when I read a book of that name written by Sophia Amoruso, the founder of NastyGal, a vintage clothing website that went bankrupt in 2016 and was sold off to fast-fashion giant BooHoo (now known as the Debenhams Group).
Amoruso didn’t invent the term but she embraced it so much that she wrote a book that was then turned into a show on Netflix. Ultimately the company fell apart and reports later emerged that there was a “toxic” culture at the business.
The rise and fall of that business and the message of its founder isn’t unique. The book Lean In by Sheryl Sandberg similarly pushed a corporate feminist agenda that was about women having it all.
As women’s sport has grown it too has taken on some of these messages. Whether its tying up every on-pitch success with the objective of gender equality, or putting athletes on an unrealistic pedestal, women’s sport is obsessed with existing within this “girlboss” narrative.
It is simply not good enough to just exist as a very good athlete in women’s sport. You need a clothing-range with motivational quotes on, you need to be posting vulnerable videos on TikTok and you have to release a book.
This book can’t just be a regular autobiography. It has to be a “manifesto”, feature self-help and leadership elements, and carry all the same isms that appear in the High Performance Podcast.
When it comes to Mary Earps’s new autobiography All In, you see the well-trodden path that it is going down. “Football, Life and Learning to be Unapologetically Me”, is the book’s tagline.
The books description is also one of empowerment: “This book is me, unfiltered. It’s the truth behind the headlines, the setbacks behind the saves. I’m so proud to finally share it with the world. I hope it resonates with anyone who’s ever been told they’re not enough, and inspires the next generation to be unapologetically themselves.”
Earps herself has been honest about overcoming mental health and body image struggles, and what it took to go from England outcast to European champion. Her performances on the pitch propelled her into mainstream celebrity, becoming one of the few women to ever win BBC Sport’s Personality of the Year, as well as a host of other individual awards.
As Earps’s celebrity grew, the temptation to lean towards the “girlboss” path became quite clear. She launched her own clothing range with quotes from her award speeches and even launched a t-shirt with the slogan ‘Women Supporting Women’ before England hosted the 2025 Women’s Rugby World Cup.
It’s not necessarily the responsibility of the individual either; consumers love it, the culture rewards it, so their representatives will lean into it. But it’s cosmetic, not authentic. It’s the creation of a superhero, an unrealistic ideal of a feminist athlete.
The other problem with taking on that mantle is it becomes a heavy burden you need to live by. In the extract from Earps’s book that was recently published in The Guardian, the former England number one was very critical of head coach Sarina Wiegman and her decision to promote Hannah Hampton to the number one spot in 2025.
Hampton was briefly dropped by Wiegman in 2022 before returning to the squad a year later. In the published extract, Earps refers to “bad behaviour” from Hampton being rewarded when she was invited back into the squad. Earps herself was given a second chance at success with England by Wiegman, who chose Earps to be her number one at Euro 2022 and the 2023 World Cup.
In a book that is being sold on the message of empowerment and self-belief, publicly criticising a former teammate and head coach feels particularly sour.
Women’s football, like any sport involving hyper-focused and intense individuals, is not an environment that is full of positive “sunshine and rainbows” experiences. Earps details that darker side in her book but it’s a narrative clash to what we see projected from her brand and the brand of the entire sport.
Perhaps this is a wake-up call to women’s sport that the hyper-positive “girlboss” brand it has been cultivating can’t last. And perhaps it’s better if it doesn’t.