Racing Through the Gender Gap

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I glanced at the leaderboard to my left and spotted my name sitting in first place, three positions ahead of his. The lingering adrenaline from the race buzzed through my veins as I turned back to him, lowering my gaze to meet his eyes.

I was competing in the fall league at Speedworld, an indoor go-karting place in Winnipeg. After racing most Tuesdays, I’d become a regular.

At first, I didn’t mind being the only girl in the place; it was just part of the environment. But when one of the guys started following me around the waiting area and messaging me on various social media platforms, while constantly belittling my racing skills, my perception shifted.

“You’re only faster because you’re little and barely take up any space in the kart,” he said, laughing at his own remark.

I forced a fake laugh, my eyes scanning the room full of men. Do they all feel the same? A tight knot formed in my chest. I lowered my eyes to my phone, trying to ignore the thoughts dancing around my mind.

Was he suggesting my success isn’t about skill or strategy; that it must be something beyond my control or easy to dismiss?

Frustration bubbled up, but I refused to let it take hold. I’d come to race, and that’s exactly what I was going to do.

A Male Dominated World

For years, men have dominated motorsports, leaving women underrepresented at various competition levels and reinforcing a culture that views women as outsiders. Even when women showed interest, society pushed back against them and limited their opportunities to compete at high levels.

Few female racers reach the highest tiers, and those who do often struggle to secure the same sponsorships and support as their male counterparts.

Succeeding in racing demands significant financial investment and countless hours of skill development. Most young drivers begin in karting before advancing, but few girls receive encouragement or resources to start their racing careers. This lack of early exposure limits the female talent pool and discourages many from continuing in the sport.

However, top racing series like Formula 1 (F1) and NASCAR are seeing an increase in female viewership, signalling a shift in the sport’s audience.

According to a study done in 2023 by More than Equal, female interest in the sport has more than doubled over the past four years.

Locally, organizations such as the Winnipeg Sports Car Club are offering programs like the Ladies First Autocross School and Autoslalom Ladies’ Day to encourage more women to get involved in motorsports.

While these efforts are making great strides in boosting visibility both nationally and locally, women still face significant challenges in entering the field. Issues like a lack of properly-fitted equipment and the need to spend thousands of dollars on custom-made gear remain major barriers.

Kamea Mulholland is a female dirt track racer from Winnipeg who competes in the 4-Cylinder class, a beginner-level car that is front-wheel drive and features a four-cylinder engine which is designed to be affordable. She describes how simple tasks such as finding a well-fitted suit turned out to be a greater challenge than she anticipated.

“I don’t like women’s fitted things because they’re made to fit an hourglass shape and I’m just not built like that,” she says. “I mean sure, you could go spend thousands and thousands of dollars to go get a suit custom made, but I don’t want to have to spend that kind of money.”

With limited options, she had no choice but to wear a karting suit instead of one made for dirt track racing.

Both types of suits are fire-retardant, yet their primary functions differ. Dirt and auto racing suits prioritize fire resistance while karting suits focus on abrasion resistance. This distinction exists because karting drivers race in open cockpits and face greater risks of being ejected and sliding along the pavement at high speeds. As a result, an abrasion-resistant suit is essential for safety.

While karting suits offer excellent protection, they are not designed for the unique demands of dirt or auto racing. This barrier compromises Kamea’s safety.

She tried on men’s suits, hoping for a better fit, but they only made things worse. Some hung loosely in places while pinching uncomfortably in others, making it nearly impossible to find the right one.

“I’m honestly surprised they don’t have more options,” she says. “You can start racing at such a young age, I can’t see why they wouldn’t have more accurate and decently-priced sizes available.”

When I was a child, doctors always told me I was average sized. This didn’t seem problematic until I started looking for race suits at age 22.

Every suit I found was either too tight around my waist or didn’t fit my chest. I even struggled to fit into women’s sizes because they aren’t designed for my body type.

The more I spoke with other women in the sport, I realized I wasn’t the only one facing these issues.

The Road to Racing

Growing up, two things never changed — the unwavering support of my parents and my passion for motorsports.  

Nearly every Sunday, NASCAR took over our TV. My dad and I spent hours cheering, yelling, and immersing ourselves in the action. Those moments formed the foundation of my love for racing.

When I was 14, my dad surprised me with the news that he had bought a race car, and we were going dirt track racing. I had no idea what that meant at the time, but my curiosity quickly turned into an obsession, and I never looked back.

Our summers were soon filled with trips across North Dakota, Minnesota, and Wisconsin, visiting different racetracks to watch my dad race. And when we weren’t at the track, we worked on the car in the shop and watched the races on TV, or we hopped on planes to Florida to see our favourite drivers in action. Racing became our entire world.

Racing was where I found my closest friends, where my family bonded, and where I felt most at home. It became my happy place.

Racing has shaped the person I am today. Whether that’s for better or worse, I’m still figuring out.

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Kamea explains that she’s used to the lack of female representation in motorsports. She is navigating a career where women are underrepresented and has to overcome societal biases while proving herself in a male-dominated field.

“There are so many times where I show up to the track and I’m like ‘Whoa, I’m the only girl here.’”

She says she prefers to turn this recurring theme into motivation to push herself and perform even better.

“I love getting out of my car after a good race, taking out my ponytail and watching everyone’s faces when they realize I’m a girl,” she says. “And then I can be like ‘yeah, I just did that.’”

More than Equal shows that women and girls represent only 10 percent of participants across all levels of motorsports.

While some areas, like karting, have higher female participation, the overall numbers remain significantly lower compared to men.

This disparity is known as the “participation gap.”

I first discovered the gap when the F1 Academy, a racing series made exclusively for women, emerged in Europe. Until then, it had never crossed my mind that this gap existed.

As I reflected on my interactions with others involved in the sport, a realization hit me. I had also experienced the stereotypes, biases, and challenges I once believed were nonexistent.

I began to realize that I was one of the few women involved in the sport. I noticed that most of the women at the track were the wives, girlfriends, or mothers of the drivers. The driving was left to the men.

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In 2021, just six days before my 21st birthday, my mom had a heart attack.

Thankfully, she has fully recovered and is doing well now, but that moment changed everything for our family. We had to reevaluate our eating habits, daily routines, and how we spent our time.

She couldn’t lift anything heavy or do strenuous activities. Simple tasks like carrying groceries, cleaning, or climbing stairs overwhelmed her. We had to stay mindful of her limits because pushing herself too much could strain her heart and lead to another heart attack. The harsh reality that my mom could no longer do the things she once did hit us hard.

A few months later, my dad decided to sell his race car, trailer, and most of the extra parts he had stored.

Equipment and parts were becoming more expensive, and my mom wasn’t able to help with the car anymore. We had to face the truth — keeping the race car wasn’t realistic.

I still remember the day my dad loaded up the car and cleaned out the trailer. I stood there, watching pieces of my life disappear down the driveway with strangers. I felt a loss I wasn’t prepared for. It was more than just a race car; we were letting go of part of who we were as a family.

For the next year, I felt completely disconnected from racing. I had grown so used to watching my dad race that, without him on the track, it didn’t feel the same. Being a spectator felt wrong, and I no longer knew where I belonged.

The Importance of Role Models

Jamie Tates, a female dirt track racer from Winnipeg competing in the Pure Stock Class (also known as the Mid-Canada Stock Car Class), a rear-wheel drive and full-sized stock car with an 8-cylinder engine, believes the shortage of female role models in the sport plays a major role in why so few women participate.

“Everything you do stands out,” Jamie says. “You could make the same mistake as a male competitor in the exact same race, but who will be remembered? The women. Why? There’s a smaller sample size.”

In sports, male role models are everywhere. They’re visible, offering inspiration and a clear path for young boys and men to follow.

However, for women and girls, female role models are often few and far between, especially in less prominent sports like dirt track racing. This lack of visibility is cyclical. How can girls and women aspire to something when they don’t see anyone who looks like them already doing it?

The presence of female role models is crucial for the growth and success of women’s sports. It’s not just about inspiration; it’s about representation. When young girls see women excelling in sports, they begin to believe that they can do these things too.

It’s simple — the more female role models there are, the more girls will feel empowered to participate, right?

Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.

Jamie says that a lack of female racers risks reinforcing the belief that women aren’t as reliable or capable when it comes to racing.

“People may think it’s not something that women stick with long term, and it could limit [a female racer’s] ability to improve or even find sponsorships,” she says. “People may not want to invest their time or money, if they have the assumption that females won’t stick around in the sport long term.”

In an article for BlackBook Motorsport, Cian Brittle highlights that women are almost twice as likely to retire within the first five years of their career, whereas men are more likely to last 12 years or longer.

With the lack of evidence that a woman’s racing career will be profitable, due to the steep decline in female participants, convincing someone to invest can be a difficult challenge.

Jamie points out that a significant barrier for women in securing sponsorships lies in the fact that the racing industry is largely fueled by male-dominated sectors. Industries such as trucking, construction, auto shops, and farming, which are among the most common sources of sponsorships, are traditionally male-centric. This creates a disconnect that hinder women’s accessibility to potential sponsorship opportunities.

The “Second Shift”

Motherhood undeniably brings significant changes to a woman’s career, lifestyle, and sense of identity.

An article in Forbes highlights how, despite the increasing efforts for gender equality in the workplace, women still face the assumption that they will take a step back from their careers when they start a family. This societal expectation leads to women being overlooked for promotions or opportunities, and many are even pressured to take lower-paying, more flexible jobs to accommodate their role as caregivers.

In the world of motorsports, this impact is equally present. Many women who pursue motorsports as a career or hobby may find their passion takes a backseat after having children. While men may continue to compete or advance in the sport, women are frequently expected to take over parenting and household duties.

“Even in dual income earning houses, women tend to be the ones who predominantly are working that ‘second shift.’” Jamie says. “They are the cleaner, the accountant, the shopper, the chef, the primary parent and so on,” she says.

This imbalance highlights an issue not just in motorsports, but in many professions, where motherhood can unintentionally limit a woman’s professional opportunities. The assumption that women will be the main caregivers puts a shelf life on their opportunities and prolongs this gender gap.

“I can think of women in the area that used to race along with their husbands, but when they had kids, guess who got to continue racing? It definitely wasn’t the woman,” Jamie says.

While Jamie knows this work is a necessary part of life, she believes something needs to change.

“I don’t have children, but I can definitely relate to this challenge,” she says. “Think of a race weekend and planning for it. Who planned the food? Who packed the motorhome? Who’s cooking the food? It’s the mothers, daughters, sisters, girlfriends and wives.”

The Dangers of Sexism

When the man began harassing me at Speedworld, I didn’t know what to do.

He would constantly ask me out on dates and call me “beautiful,” “cute,” and “pretty,” which were meant to be “endearing,” but it all felt wrong. His behaviour made me incredibly uncomfortable.

Somehow we always ended up in the same race, week after week. I usually finished ahead of him, which is something I was proud of, but only seemed to fuel his aggression.

He claimed I was only beating him because I was smaller and took up less space in the kart, which he said made my kart faster.

Yes, weight can play a role in the aerodynamics of a kart, but we were similar in size, so I didn’t understand where he was coming from.

Eventually, he targeted on the course, pushing me into the track’s wall without reason.

At this point, it wasn’t just frustrating — it was dangerous. His actions made me angry, but more than that, they made me realize how far some would go to knock a women down.

One night, I reached my breaking point. He drove me into the wall again, and this time, my ankle got jammed between the gas pedal and a bar next to it, while my head was inches from hitting the steering wheel.

I stormed out of my kart, furious, and confronted him. I told him that his actions weren’t just stupid — they were dangerous and could seriously hurt someone.

Looking back, I can understand how it might have seemed unprovoked to anyone who saw that moment. But no one saw the relentless, demoralizing text messages begging me to go on dates or the creepy comments about my body, telling me I “looked good the other day.”

It was after that incident that I got the nickname “little bulldog.”

On the surface, it might sound funny and cute. For me, it changed how I carried myself and how I viewed racing.

What had once been a space where I felt comfortable suddenly became one where I felt out of place. My presence seemed to make others uncomfortable, simply because I stood my ground.

The following week, I returned, hoping things would be back to normal. But it wasn’t the same. People tiptoed around me, as if waiting for me to erupt. They treated me like I was the problem when all I had done was stand up for myself.

The space I once found comfortable now felt suffocating, like my presence was a threat rather than a rightful part of the community.

As I reflect on this situation and previous conversations I’ve had or social media comments I’ve read, I realize that other women in motorsports face similar condescending remarks every day. Their hard-earned accomplishments are often undermined with phrases like, “you’re just a girl” or “grow up, this is a man’s sport.”

These comments take a toll on women’s mental health and often drive them away from competition. No one should have to endure constant criticism while giving their best. So why is it acceptable to treat women this way?

Hoping for a Brighter Future

Just over a year after my dad sold our racing equipment, we decided it was time for me to race. My mom’s condition had improved significantly, so my dad and I decided on a Pure Stock.

That summer, I raced five times. Although my schedule wasn’t packed, each race ignited something in me. From the adrenaline of pulling onto the track, to the anxious pounding of my heart against my chest, and the rush of crossing the finish line (even though I came last in three out of five races), I felt a sense of purpose I hadn’t felt in a while. With every race, I remembered why I fell in love with the sport in the first place. By the end of the season, I rediscovered a part of myself.

Then, in the fall, I got accepted into school, and we made the decision to sell the car because we couldn’t afford it since I wouldn’t be working full-time.

It was difficult to watch my car be driven away on a stranger’s trailer. But over time, I learned to accept it because even though my dad and I aren’t behind the wheel anymore, racing remains a central part of my life.

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It took me 24 years to realize that the gender gaps I’ve experienced in life aren’t normal.

For a long time, I thought it was how things were. Limitations were something I had to accept. But eventually, I’ve come to understand that these gaps aren’t a reflection of who I am — they are the result of unfair systems and expectations.

It took me 24 years to understand what it really means when people tell me I’m “too small” or don’t fit the typical mould. But now I know those comments say more about the narrow views of others than they do about me.

Instead of letting these challenges hold me back, I find strength in being a woman. I find power in the thing society often tries to belittle — my gender. When people try to downplay my achievements because of it, I stand even stronger. I’m doing my part to redefine what it means to be “just a girl.”