When Angel Reese paid off her mom’s mortgage and helped her retire after Reese’s rookie season in the WNBA, it wasn’t just a sweet viral moment. It was a quiet revolution. For decades, the hallmark image of a young athlete “making it” in the pros—a number one draft pick signing an eight-figure deal and handing the keys of a suburban mansion to the parents who raised him—has been a strictly male one. But for most women athletes, even the highest levels of professional success haven’t guaranteed financial security, let alone the potential to build generational wealth.

I remember when I first learned that the Denver Nuggets mascot, Rocky, earned nearly three timesthe WNBA salary of three-time MVP and six-time Olympic gold medalist Diana Taurasi. I was enraged. Of course, the pay gap in sports isn’t new information to anyone paying attention. Women athletes know they will earn a fraction of their male counterparts (and even their mascots), while working twice as hard to prove they deserve the same spotlight. For years, that disparity has meant juggling multiple careers and side hustles, and for many, committing to grueling, year-round schedules—playing in other semi-pro leagues, or overseas in Russia, Turkey, China, or Australia during their league off-seasons to “stack” their money (as Brittney Griner referred to in her memoir). But these aren’t glamorous stints abroad; they’re months away from home, risking injury in unfamiliar systems, and sacrificing time with family simply to extend a career’s earning window that, even at its longest, remains heartbreakingly brief. On the podcast “All Facts No Breaks” hosted by former NFL wide-receiver Keyshawn Johnson, Candace Parker spoke about her time in the WNBA and building her own legacy. But on the topic of her WNBA salary and the future of the league, she referred to the WNBA as her “summer job.” She expanded: “My job was to play in Russia for six years, to play in China for two, to play in Turkiye for one. That’s how I took care of my family.” The question isn’t why they need additional income streams. The more interesting question is how they’re choosing to build them, and what those choices reveal about a generation of athletes determined to redefine success on their own terms.

The NWSL’s players association launched #NoMoreSideHustles in 2021, a campaign that called out the structural inequities that force players into second and third jobs just to survive. When it launched, it was pioneering. It was one of the first mainstream movements to demand public accountability from a professional league on pay disparity. It echoed the long fight spearheaded by the USWNT: prior to their 2022 Equal Pay settlement, the U.S. women’s national soccer team were paid about a quarter of what their male counterparts earned. Yes—a quarter, despite the fact that the men’s team hadn’t won a World Cup since 1930, failed to qualify entirely in 2018, and generated $20 million less in revenue … while the women's team won four World Cup titles and four Olympic gold medals. After years of legal battles and public advocacy, the USWNT finally secured a landmark collective bargaining agreement in 2022, guaranteeing equal pay with the men’s team—a historic victory that set a new standard across global sport—and fueling more conversations about pay parity across sports.

But while these wins are transformative, they remain exceptions. For most women athletes, #NoMoreSideHustles isn’t just a slogan. The reality is that the hustle persists—but what happens when a “side hustle” isn’t just born out of financial desperation and necessity, but of creative ambition, strategic thinking, and a refusal to be boxed into a single identity? What if it’s not just about making ends-meet, but having a well-rounded professional life?

This is the era of the multi-hyphenate athlete. Not the romanticized “girlboss” who simply does it all, but the woman who understands that long-term security demands diversification. Being an athlete today is as much about personal brand, risk assessment, and building the right team as it is about winning games. And for many, it’s also an opportunity to pursue a passion and area of interest outside of sports.

Take Courtney Williams, a WNBA guard for the Lynx whose hobby-turned-side hustle as a day trader requires the same split-second decision-making as her fast breaks on the court. Or the Wings’ Dijonai Carrington, who flexes her fiduciary muscles as a licensed financial planner when she’s off the court. Or Valkyries shooting guard and tunnel-fit MVP Tiffany Hayes, whose luxury fashion label Seyah Renara was supposed to be a post-retirement project, until she un-retired and decided she could build both at once; the brand itself is rooted in “redefining generational wealth through the lens of community.” Or Sydney Colson, WNBA veteran and Fever guard, whose humor isn’t just a personality trait, but a core part of her business strategy—extending her career beyond the court through commercial acting gigs and her own sketch comedy series, “The Syd and TP Show,” with former Aces and Athletes Unlimited teammate Theresa Plaisance.

For powerhouse athletes, these aren’t hobbies, and reach further than traditional endorsement deals. They’re strategic extensions of identity, purpose, and power. Nicole Kosta balances her time as a PWHL forward with her work as a licensed chiropractor, using her intimate knowledge of the body to heal others while pushing her own to the limits of elite sport. Ilona Maher’s viral presence on TikTok and Instagram isn’t just personal branding; it’s a driving force behind the growing interest in women’s rugby, with six-figure brand deals and endorsements further fueling her presence. Maher has even been able to bring her sisters into the fold, changing the game for the entire family. For olympic gymnast Jordan Chiles, real estate is the next frontier, combining her love of building, design, and an avenue for her creativity. 

While NIL deals have been transformative for college athletes, even they are pursuing extracurricular opportunities outside of traditional endorsement deals. LSU Tigers guard Flau’jae Johnson raps not only to honor her late father’s legacy, but to express herself beyond the confines of college basketball. She also hosts a successful podcast, “Best of Both Worlds.” For LSU artistic gymnast Livvy Dunne, social media earnings already eclipse what she could earn as a pro gymnast, while landing coveted spots on the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit runway, too.

None of these ventures or opportunities exists in isolation. They are interconnected with financial security, risk tolerance, creative fulfillment, generational wealth-building, and self-determination. They are reminders that financial independence is rarely just about money. It’s about agency. It’s about refusing to let a league salary cap define your ceiling. And for so many women and nonbinary athletes, particularly those with intersectional racial and sexual identities, it’s about modeling new definitions of success for the young fans watching them—fans who are learning that side hustles aren’t distractions or purely about survival, but tools of joy, legacy, and autonomy.

“No More Side Hustles” is still the dream. It is still true that even with the growth and attention on women's sports, most of these women would not be able to build generational wealth solely with their professional sports salaries. Pay parity is still the fight. But until then, these sports stars will keep hustling—not because they have to, but because they want to. Because for them, hustling is no longer just about staying afloat. It’s about building empires no one thought possible.