August 07, 2025
By Dede Barry
Every bike racer dreams of riding the Tour de France, but for decades due to misogyny and inequality women couldn’t fulfill that dream. Through the 80’s and into the 90’s the women’s Tour was a weak afterthought to the men’s race and sputtered to an end without the needed support to grow the event and provide proper racing conditions for the riders.
When I raced in a couple of the early versions of the Tour de France Féminin—then known as the Tour of the EEC which became the Grande Boucle Féminine Internationale and then the Tour Cycliste Feminin—in the 1990s, it was an underfunded, overlooked, and often invisible counterpart to the men’s race. We raced long, challenging stages over the same iconic mountains, but without the media coverage, fans lining the road, or infrastructure that supported our male peers. We were housed in lousy hotels or worse (one year, I was forced to quit the race due to swelling from bed bug bites covering my body). Some days, we crossed the finish line with barely a crowd. But we raced with grit and belief—belief that things would get better. We were a peloton of women with goals in sport and a love for racing, so we accepted the conditions and rode on believing one day things would improve, if not for us, for the next generations.
Although it has taken decades, conditions for women cyclists have improved significantly. Watching the race last week, I can hardly believe how far the women’s Tour de France has come due to the will of a handful of women and the corporation and sponsorship of Zwift, a company that believed in the potential and need for a women’s Tour. Since its rebirth as the Tour de France Femmes avec Zwift in 2022, it has become a powerful symbol of progress in women’s sport. With live TV coverage, roadside crowds that rival the men’s race, and a platform that finally gives the world’s best female cyclists the recognition they’ve long deserved, the race has brought women’s cycling into a new era. After the race ended, the Wall Street Journal ran a large photo above the fold on their front page of race winner Ferrand-Prevot crossing the finish line in her yellow jersey as did multiple other newspapers around the world.
Watching women’s racing now fills me with joy—and pride. Not just because it exists, but because it’s thriving. The riders are classy, the tactics sharp, and the passion shines through. And just as important, little girls—and grown women—are watching. They are inspired.
I see the impact every day when I ride whether in Toronto, Spain or the USA. I lived in Girona, Spain from 2002-2012, a small city which has now become a global hub for pro cycling. When I first trained there in the early 2000s, I was often the only woman on the road. I can’t count the number of times drivers slowed down to stare or comment. People often made remarks and we were hooted at or critiqued. Cycling was considered a man’s sport. Now, two decades later, it’s not unusual to see more women than men out riding up the climbs in and around Girona. Local women’s group rides are inclusive and flourishing. Cyclists of all levels—young, old, fast, slow—are embracing the sport. The shift is inspiring and remarkable. It’s lovely to see people of every demographic embracing the sport whether the commute to work or the bike packing adventure into the mountains.
Much of this growth has been driven by the visibility of today’s professional stars who have become role models for younger generations. Riders like Pauline Ferrand Prevot, Demi Vollering, Lotte Kopecky, and Kasia Niewiadoma aren’t just winning races—they’re making a greater audience aware of what most women know: women’s racing can be fast and entertaining if we are given the opportunity. Like the women of past generations they are strong women, each with their own story of resilience, determination, and freedom on the bike. They’re showing women and girls around the world that cycling isn’t only a man’s sport.
And the progress isn’t only cultural—it’s structural, too. Today, there’s a minimum salary for Women’s WorldTour riders, a major step toward professionalizing the sport. In 2025, that minimum wage is set at €32,102 ($37,200 USD) for salaried riders. It is still significantly lower than the men’s WorldTour minimum (€65,000 / $75,600 USD for salaried riders), but a meaningful improvement over the days when many of the women were racing on little more than passion, travel stipends, and hope. Some even went into debt to race.
Of course, there's still a long way to go.
While strides have been made in coverage, pay, and professionalism, women’s teams still receive a fraction of the sponsorship dollars. Many female developmental riders continue to juggle jobs, studies, or other responsibilities to sustain their careers in hopes that they can eventually make it onto a professional team and / or have another career to transition to down the road. Some teams fold with little notice due to lack of funding. And even now, there are voices in the sport—some loud, some quiet—who still treat women’s racing as secondary, less exciting, or somehow less worthy.
But I’ve learned that change in sport rarely happens overnight. It happens with every turn of the pedals, every barrier broken, every generation that dares to demand more. The momentum is real, and it’s growing but we can’t relent.
The 2025 women’s Tour de France was not just a race. It’s a signal. A sign that when women are given the opportunity, they rise. And when young girls see strong women at the front of the peloton, they begin to believe they belong there too.
As someone who rode the Grande Boucle decades ago in tough conditions and has been immersed in the sport since I was a teenager, I can say with confidence: we’re not finished. But we’re on the right road.