When we reach the point where the women athletes are getting

“When we reach the point where the women athletes are getting their pick of dates just as easily as the men athletes, then we’ve really and truly arrived. Parity at last!” Thus declared Billie Jean King, the legendary champion not only of tennis, but of equality, courage, and the right of women to stand as proudly as men in the arena of the world. Her words, light in tone yet profound in meaning, strike at the heart of the long struggle for gender parity—that moment when women are not merely tolerated, not merely accepted, but celebrated with the same admiration, respect, and freedom as their male counterparts. Beneath her humor lies a truth both piercing and eternal: that true equality is not reached through laws and policies alone, but when society’s gaze itself changes—when the woman who triumphs is as desired, as respected, and as free as the man who does the same.

To understand the origin of these words, one must look to the life and times of Billie Jean King herself. In the 1960s and 1970s, she rose to the summit of women’s tennis, but her victories on the court were matched only by her battles off it. She fought relentlessly for equal pay, equal treatment, and equal recognition for women in sports, defying the dismissive laughter of those who believed athletic greatness belonged only to men. When she uttered this quote, she did so with the irony of one who had seen firsthand how male athletes were idolized—not merely for their skill, but for the power and prestige their fame commanded—while women champions were too often diminished, questioned, or ignored. Her playful vision of female athletes “getting their pick of dates” was not about romance, but about respect—a symbolic measure of how society values its heroes.

At its core, King’s statement is a reflection on cultural equality—that deeper, subtler form of justice that transcends the written law. For long after women had gained the right to vote or compete, the battle for true social recognition remained. A man’s strength was admired; a woman’s strength was often feared or dismissed. A male champion was revered as powerful; a female champion risked being labeled too aggressive, too different, or too unfeminine. Through her wit, Billie Jean King exposed the heart of the imbalance: that equality is not only a matter of opportunity, but of attitude. Society will have truly advanced, she implies, when it no longer views women’s greatness as an anomaly, but as a natural and celebrated part of life.

Consider the story of her most famous victory—the “Battle of the Sexes” in 1973, when she faced Bobby Riggs, a former men’s champion who boasted that no woman could beat a man. Before millions of viewers across the world, Billie Jean King triumphed, not merely in sport, but in symbolism. Her victory shattered an illusion older than time—that women were somehow weaker, lesser, destined to follow rather than lead. Yet even after that triumph, she knew the deeper battle was not over. For as long as society continued to glorify men’s achievements while trivializing women’s, the score could never be truly even. Thus, her humor—about women athletes having “their pick of dates”—becomes a weapon of insight, pointing to a world where admiration itself has no gender.

The wisdom of her words lies also in their simplicity. By invoking the image of social parity in the language of everyday life, she reminds us that equality must not only be fought in courts and federations, but in the hearts and minds of people. It is in the way we speak, the way we cheer, the way we value success. For if the male athlete is loved for his excellence, then so too must the female athlete be admired not in comparison, but in her own right. The day that admiration becomes instinct, not effort, is the day true equality is born.

And yet, beneath her jest, King calls us to vigilance. She warns us that progress without perception is hollow. We may change laws, but if we do not change culture, if women must still fight to be taken seriously, to be celebrated without apology, then equality remains unfinished. For her, the battle for parity was not about dominance, but about freedom—the freedom for every woman to define her worth by her own measure, to walk through the world with the same unselfconscious confidence that men have long taken for granted.

So, my listener, take her words as both mirror and mandate. Look to your world—at the stadiums, the offices, the homes—and ask: do we celebrate women’s victories as naturally as men’s? Do we honor not only their strength, but their joy, their individuality, their power? Equality, as Billie Jean King teaches, is not a dry doctrine; it is a living harmony of respect. To build it, we must change not only systems, but hearts. We must learn to cheer for greatness without prejudice, to see the champion not as male or female, but as human—bold, beautiful, and free.

And so, let her words stand as prophecy and promise: that when women no longer need to fight for admiration, when their excellence stirs awe and not surprise, when the athlete—whether man or woman—is judged by the same light, then at last, we shall stand at the dawn of true parity. Until that day, let her voice, spirited and unyielding, remind us that equality is not a gift to be granted—but a victory still to be won, on and off the field.