I consider myself an unusual advocate for sports. I barely played any sports in my childhood.

I didn’t know any better.

From how I saw things, play was for everyone. But sports were the reserve of those who were pre-ordained, reserved for bodies that moved fast, strong, self-assured and skilled. Reserved for those who would draw cheer with every throw and were unlikely to embarrass themselves or spectators with novice fumbles.

I mostly saw boys on the sports field, many who found themselves in the spotlight in the classroom for the wrong reasons, but transformed into Greek heroes the moment they stepped onto the turf, further solidifying the idea that there was an inverse correlation between success on the field and in the classroom. It was safer to cheer from the sidelines and stay in my lane with academics, the only clear highway toward success or validation.

“I am not ever going to be PT Usha, so what’s the point,” I remember saying, perched on steps near our basketball court – notebook on my knees, turning one more PE period into an hour of revision, instead of dribbling the ball – never realising that the point was never just to get it through the basket, but to try, explore, fail, get up, and keep getting better.

The first major shift in my journey happened when I joined a feminist college, signing up for a liberal arts course. The most powerful ideas that I encountered were recognising social conditioning. How I had come to internalise the norms, values, behaviours and expectations of society (and not just in the way I thought about sports). I learnt the concept of agency, that I did not have to passively accept things, that I could act more intentionally and independently and make conscious choices.

This awareness became a part of my life and work in subsequent years, but it really became a deeper quest once I became a parent.

Having grown up with limiting beliefs, low self-confidence, and often chasing external validation, I wanted my daughter not to repeat the same cycle. I want her to be able to live freely and fully, to experience the world expansively and make choices with awareness.

I believed that there would be more parents who believed in this vision, and I started Equalitee, a gender-cool brand for kids, aimed to challenge gender stereotypes in early childhood. I have always been struck by the power of imagery, and with this line of apparel, toys and stationery, I wanted to offer more expansive images, a world where, for example, it is ‘normal’ for boys to express their feelings and for girls to play football.

During the course of brand research for Equalitee, the importance of sports in shaping childhood and adolescent experiences became clear to me. By this time, my daughter, who had explored swimming and skating, was now taking her first steps in training formally for golf.

My spouse and I transitioned into the role of sports parents and witnessed first-hand the gaps that exist in the sports ecosystem for beginners and intermediate athletes. The gaps lie not just in access, information, and pathways, but also in the perceptions and attitudes around why sports matter – a question that had eluded me as I sat as a schoolgirl on the steps of the backfield, one that persists in the world around us, and one I am now working to bridge through Equalsportz.

A key part of understanding the ‘why’ of sports is recognising that sport isn’t only for the exceptional few destined to become PT Usha or chase Olympic glory. Sport is for everybody. Or, as Sports Integrity Australia says in their recent campaign: Sport is for every BODY.

In today’s constantly online world, the shift from physical first to digital first spaces has had the most far-reaching consequences for the digitally immersed younger generations. Instead of exploring questions around “Who am I?”, they are constantly left grappling with “How do I look?” This is impacting their developing sense of self at every level, starting with body image.

This is why sports play an even more crucial role today. They offer the space to build a first-hand lived experience of what the body can do and not just how it looks.

Children in sports develop an internal lens of how the body feels, an intimate understanding of their physical self and an ownership of their bodies (I can tell when my body feels tired, or I feel super strong). They realise their own agency (I didn’t think I could jump this high, but I practised and I made it happen), they learn the value of effort (I like that feeling when I finish a hard workout and think – wow, I did it!). They don’t depend only on external voices or judgements, instead they build a strong sense of self, pushing themselves physically and learning what they’re capable of and recognising their own unique strengths (I may not be the fastest, but I can jump really high).

This early body awareness that sports helps them build is the source material for building positive self-worth, which is foundational for their developing sexuality.

They gain inner-confidence, learn to express and assert themselves and develop an internal compass of their own needs, emotions and boundaries.
One particular aspect of sport that I have come to value as a sports parent is the value of rejection or failure in developing resilience. Living in a highly consumerist society with endless choices and instant gratification, urban kids have every material comfort at their disposal, often creating a deep sense of entitlement. Many of them cannot take no for an answer (we know where that goes when it comes to consent in later relationships). This is where sports become such a grounding force. The most valuable lesson it teaches is in handling disappointment and understanding that, no matter how talented, you will not win every time.

It teaches our children how to navigate difficult feelings of frustration, hurt and failure. They come to discover that losing does not break them; instead, it instils patience and acceptance that strengthens them and makes them resilient. They learn to persist and not give up easily.

Children who learn to handle these emotions on the field are likely to grow into adults who can build healthier relationships rooted in mutual respect and the ability to manage their own desires and disappointments.

This is not to say that negative attitudes don’t exist within sports. We do witness a ‘win at all costs’ culture, where children are pressured by coaches, parents and a culture that rewards medals and idolises heroes, become hyper-competitive and have difficulty handling losses and failure. They miss out on emotional development and are likely to experience the pressure to prove themselves, even in their relationships or hinge their self-worth on external validation.

Apart from self-awareness, the other key area that sports help children develop is how they relate to others. Through their interactions with teammates, opponents, coaches, referees, parents, and even spectators, they learn to balance their own needs, emotions, and expectations with those of others. It is this relational dimension that elevates sports beyond teaching physical literacy to emotional literacy. It offers a safe ground to learn to build trust, attachment, friendship and admiration. They learn to negotiate space, to communicate, to respect boundaries, to understand there are consequences of their actions for them and for others and finally to stand up for what’s right.

Most importantly, sport is meant to be fun together. Good coaches remind us of this often, because when sport turns transactional and only about results, it affects not just performance but the very joy and purpose of participating in sports. These early lessons in connection, boundaries, and shared joy form the same relational skills that later shape healthy, respectful expressions of sexuality.

Sports matter even more during the intense and transformative adolescent years.

As children grow into teens, they have peaking hormones that bring elevated physical energy, emotional intensity, and a natural drive for expression. I recently spoke with a sports parent from Bangalore who is also a doctor. She shared how she sees more and more teenagers engaging in risky behaviour, with little understanding of the short- or long-term consequences of their choices. Her experiences in her medical practice convinced her to introduce her own child to sports early, as a positive outlet for the intense energy and emotions that come with adolescence.

The teenage years, however, see a steep decline in girls’ participation in sport. By the age of 14 years, their dropout rate is almost twice that of boys. Apart from safety concerns, lack of access, peer pressure and other factors, puberty is said to be a key reason for their dropping out. Physical changes in the body, such as breast development, body hair, and the start of menstruation, make girls feel self-conscious about their bodies during physical activity. There is a strong need to normalise menstruation and create awareness on how teen girls can thrive in sports with the right sport. I love the work that Simply Sport Foundation is doing in not just creating awareness among female athletes and supporting their needs, but also engaging coaches (male and female), building them as allies in normalising menstruation.

Overall, things are changing slowly but surely for women in sports. In the recent Cricket World Cup final, the Indian women’s cricket team didn’t just win – they owned their celebration. The sheer freedom, joy and unfiltered expression they showed on the field was a powerful reminder of what it looks like when people feel fully at home in their bodies. That same sense of agency and self-ownership is at the heart of self-and-other-affirming sexuality, too.

The Star Sports World Cup campaign was a refreshing one too; it showed men proudly wearing jerseys with the numbers of Indian women cricketers, normalising the idea of men not just watching but genuinely cheering for the women’s team, subtly rewriting the norm that fandom belongs only to the men’s game (“Virat khele ya Smriti, Jeetega to India”). It represented female physicality in a non-objectified way, reframing the admiration from the sexualised gaze (normative in media’s imagery) to respectful appreciation. It is such moments in sport that have the potential to shift cultural norms. Seeing women athletes as equals, respecting their competence and agency, is foundational to building a healthy sexuality and mutual respect.

In his book, The Anxious Generation, Jonathan Haidt says, “Synchronous, face-to-face, physical interactions and rituals are a deep, ancient, and underappreciated part of human evolution.” Sport, to me, is one of the richest forms of these interactions, an antidote to the isolating digital world and a grounding space where children learn the embodied confidence, connection, and relational skills that later shape wholesome sexuality.