Angel Reese, the Chicago Sky’s breakout rookie and one of the most recognizable faces in women’s basketball, has thrown down the gauntlet. In a bold and unapologetic stance, she’s threatened to sit out WNBA games alongside her fellow players unless the league meets their demands for better pay in the upcoming Collective Bargaining Agreement (CBA) negotiations. “As long as it takes,” Reese declared, responding to critics who’ve called her stance entitled or impractical. The statement, made on March 8, 2025, has sparked a firestorm of debate, shining a harsh spotlight on the financial realities of the WNBA and the growing power of its players. This isn’t just a contract dispute—it’s a cultural moment that could redefine the future of women’s sports.
Reese’s defiance comes at a pivotal time. The Women’s National Basketball Players Association (WNBPA) opted out of its current CBA last year, setting the stage for its expiration in October 2025 instead of 2027. With the league riding a wave of unprecedented popularity—thanks in part to Reese and her rookie classmate Caitlin Clark—the players see an opportunity to capitalize on a lucrative new media deal worth $2.2 billion over 11 years, starting in 2026. Yet, despite the WNBA’s rising profile, Reese’s rookie contract, a four-year deal totaling $324,383, pays her just under $75,000 annually. For a player who’s become a household name, that number feels like a slap in the face.
“I can’t even pay my rent with that,” Reese has said in the past, pointing out that her $8,000 monthly rent in Chicago far outstrips her base salary. While she’s raked in millions through endorsements—her NIL valuation from LSU days was estimated at $1.8 million—the disparity between her WNBA paycheck and her market value is glaring. And she’s not alone. Many players argue that the league’s current pay structure, unchanged for years, fails to reflect its growing revenue and cultural relevance. Reese’s threat to boycott games isn’t just personal—it’s a rallying cry for a workforce demanding its fair share.
Critics have been quick to pounce. Some have labeled her “ungrateful,” arguing that $75,000 is a solid salary for a 22-year-old in her first year, especially when paired with her off-court earnings. Others have mocked the idea of a strike, suggesting the WNBA lacks the leverage to force change. “Try out for the NBA if she’s so good,” one detractor quipped on X. But Reese isn’t backing down. “We’re not just going to sit here and take it,” she fired back in an interview. “We’ve built this league up, and we deserve to be paid like it.” Her resolve has only deepened the divide between those who see her as a visionary and those who view her as overreaching.
The stakes couldn’t be higher. The WNBA is at a crossroads, with expansion teams in San Francisco, Portland, and Toronto on the horizon and TV ratings soaring. Last season, Reese and Clark’s rivalry drew record viewership, proving that star power can translate into dollars. Yet, the league’s salary cap and rookie pay scale remain relics of a less prosperous era. The new media deal promises $200 million annually—a massive jump from the current $60 million—but players want guarantees that a significant chunk of that money will reach their pockets. Without it, Reese and her peers are prepared to grind the season to a halt, a move that could test the league’s resilience and fan loyalty.
Supporters see this as a long-overdue reckoning. “Angel’s not wrong,” one fan posted on X. “She’s spotlighting a real issue—$75k doesn’t cut it when the league’s raking in billions.” Others draw parallels to the NBA, where players like LeBron James command eight-figure salaries thanks to aggressive union negotiations decades ago. The WNBPA, led by president Nneka Ogwumike, has hinted at a strike as a last resort, and Reese’s outspokenness adds fuel to the fire. “We’re sitting out if we have to,” she warned, signaling a willingness to sacrifice games—and paychecks—to force change.
Of course, a strike isn’t without risks. The WNBA’s fanbase, while growing, is still fragile compared to its male counterpart. A prolonged dispute could alienate viewers and sponsors, setting back years of progress. Critics argue that Reese, as a rookie, should “pay her dues” before demanding more. But she counters that waiting isn’t an option when the league’s future is being shaped now. “This isn’t about me—it’s about every woman coming after me,” she said, framing her fight as a legacy issue.
As the CBA talks heat up, all eyes are on Reese. Her defiance has made her a lightning rod, but it’s also made her a leader. Whether she’s hailed as a trailblazer or vilified as a disruptor, one thing is clear: she’s not budging. “As long as it takes” isn’t just a catchphrase—it’s a promise. And in a league on the cusp of transformation, Angel Reese might just be the spark that lights the way forward—or burns it all down trying.
