The atmosphere at WNBA games this summer has been electric, but not always for the right reasons. Since July 29, 2025, a bizarre and troubling trend has emerged: sex toys, specifically dildos, have been thrown onto the court at six different games in five cities. What started as a surreal interruption during a matchup between the Atlanta Dream and Golden State Valkyries has morphed into a coordinated campaign that’s rattling the league, its players, and fans—and sparking a fiery national debate about misogyny, meme culture, and the state of women’s sports.
The first incident, which left both players and spectators in disbelief, saw a dildo arc through the air and land squarely on the hardwood in Atlanta. Security quickly responded, and Delbert Carver, a 23-year-old man, was arrested at the scene. According to ESPN, Carver admitted in an affidavit that the act was “supposed to be a joke” and was intended “to go viral.” Authorities later revealed that another man, aged 18, was also arrested in connection with similar incidents. Yet, as the weeks wore on, the dildo-throwing continued—unabated and increasingly brazen—across cities including New York and Chicago, with suspects in some cases still unidentified.
So what’s behind these crude disruptions? Enter Green Dildo Coin, a cryptocurrency meme group that has gleefully claimed responsibility for the campaign. In a statement to USA TODAY, a spokesman for the group insisted the stunts were “not meant to be a takedown of the WNBA,” but rather an extension of a culture “cultivated around jokes, pranks and stunts.” However, their online presence tells a different story: mocking the league, celebrating the chaos, and even selling “Paid You What We Owed You” merchandise—a taunt aimed at WNBA players’ calls for higher salaries and fairer revenue sharing.
For many, this explanation simply doesn’t hold water. “It’s a sobering reminder of the power of misogyny and the pervasiveness of misogyny and homophobia in our culture,” said Cheryl Cooky, a professor at Purdue University who studies the intersection of gender, sport, and culture. “Just because women are filling stadiums, the work is still not done. The struggle is still not over.” Cooky’s words echo a growing sense among advocates for women’s sports that every step forward is met with a backlash—sometimes overt, sometimes cloaked in irony or ‘humor,’ but always designed to undermine progress.
Ajhanai Keaton, an assistant professor of sports management at UMass, put it bluntly: “The showing of sex objects is trying to show male dominance. (Because) women’s sports is the ethos of women’s power in our country.” The timing of the campaign—just two weeks after the WNBA All-Star Game, which saw a surge in attention for the league and its stars—suggests it’s no accident. History is littered with examples of women’s sports facing backlash whenever popularity or cultural relevance rises. As Cooky observed, “As much as there’s a cultural narrative of the rise of women’s sports, there’s also a really powerful backlash that corresponds to that celebration and explosion in interest and explosion in popularity. Those two things are happening hand in hand, and that’s not by accident.”
There’s a darker side to the spectacle, too. The repeated throwing of dildos onto the court isn’t just an inconvenience or a tasteless prank—it’s a genuine safety hazard. Had a player slipped on one of the objects, it could have resulted in a torn ACL, a broken wrist, or even a concussion. Critics argue it shouldn’t take a career-altering injury to recognize the malicious intent behind these acts. The campaign, which has now affected more than a third of the league, is widely seen as a deliberate attempt to remind WNBA players and their fans that, despite recent gains, the playing field is still far from level.
But why has this particular form of trolling taken hold now? Analysts point to the rise of meme culture and the erosion of social shame, particularly among younger generations raised on TikTok and other algorithm-driven platforms. The garish green dildos, echoing the surreal and absurdist tones of viral web series like Skibidi Toilet, aren’t meant to convey a message so much as to provoke a reaction. As one commentator noted, “The dildo is funny not because it says something, but because it says nothing. It’s the irrational object breaking into a space of rationality.”
This kind of disruption isn’t new to sports, but its meaning shifts dramatically in the context of women’s athletics. While objects have occasionally been tossed onto the ice or field at men’s games—a tradition that’s often celebrated or shrugged off—the repeated targeting of WNBA games carries a different weight. The league is made up largely of queer women and women of color, and the choice of object is pointedly sexual and demeaning. “A sex toy being thrown—repeatedly!—at women’s games when most of that league’s players are queer and women of color hits differently,” wrote USA TODAY’s Nancy Armour, “and it begs credulity that these ‘bros’ don’t get that.”
The current wave of trolling is also a case study in how online subcultures can spill into real life, with consequences that go well beyond the digital sphere. The internet’s lack of regulation allows fringe ideologies and juvenile impulses to scale rapidly, rewarding those who can capture attention—no matter how toxic the method. In this new economy of engagement, even humiliation becomes a form of currency. “Trolling becomes its own form of marketing,” observed one analyst, and the perpetrators are rewarded not with shame, but with notoriety and, in some cases, profit.
There’s a historical throughline here, too. From women’s soccer being banned in England for decades because its popularity threatened the men’s game, to gender tests and scaremongering about female athletes’ bodies, backlash has always accompanied progress. The dildo-throwing campaign is simply the latest chapter in a long story: any time women’s sports gain ground, there are those eager to remind them of their supposed place.
And yet, the league and its supporters aren’t backing down. The incidents have sparked widespread condemnation, not just from journalists and academics, but from fans and players who refuse to let trolling define the narrative. The WNBA continues to draw record crowds and attention, and its athletes remain vocal about the need for respect and equality. The message from many quarters is clear: only weak men demean women, and the true power lies with those who keep pushing for change, on and off the court.
As the WNBA season continues, league officials, players, and fans are watching closely to see whether the perpetrators will face further consequences—and whether the culture around women’s sports can finally shift for good. For now, the court remains a battleground not just for basketball, but for the broader struggle over dignity, respect, and the future of sports in America.
