I don't think they have daughters, because I don't think they want to treat their daughters like this.
Each evening at Roland Garros this May, the floodlights rose over Court Philippe Chatrier for matches that belonged, without exception, to men — a pattern so entrenched across five years that it has ceased to resemble scheduling and begun to resemble doctrine. The French Open, one of tennis's most storied stages, has granted women four of sixty available night slots since 2021, and none at all in 2026, even as the sport's most celebrated players and its governing body continue to ask why. At the heart of the dispute lies a familiar tension: between the logic of commerce and the claim of equal visibility, between institutional inertia and the quiet accumulation of grievance.
- Thirty-two consecutive night sessions have gone to men, and even a marquee clash between Naomi Osaka and world number one Aryna Sabalenka appeared unlikely to break the streak.
- Top players — Osaka, Pegula, Jabeur — have spoken out with mounting frustration, their words ranging from resigned disbelief to pointed moral challenge.
- Tournament director Mauresmo, a former world number one herself, defends the policy on commercial grounds, arguing that shorter women's matches cannot justify premium ticket prices of up to £240.
- The WTA's newly appointed chief executive met with Mauresmo at Roland Garros this week in what was described as an open conversation, but three years of similar pressure have produced no change.
- Women's tennis is being structurally sidelined from the moments that generate the greatest visibility, revenue, and cultural reach — and the sport's growth is paying the price.
Every night this May, as darkness settled over Roland Garros, the lights came on for evening matches that belonged entirely to men. No woman has played a night session at the French Open since 2023. Since the tournament introduced single-match evening slots in 2021, women have received four of sixty available places. This year, the count is zero — thirty-two consecutive night sessions, all men.
The players have not been quiet. Naomi Osaka said she no longer even associates the French Open's night matches with women's tennis, a remark that felt less like personal detachment than an indictment of the tournament itself. Jessica Pegula described the fight as hitting her head against a wall. Ons Jabeur asked whether the people making these decisions had daughters.
Tournament director Amélie Mauresmo — a former world number one — has offered a steady justification: women's matches end too quickly, and a two-set victory does not warrant ticket prices ranging from fifty to two hundred and forty pounds. The French Open also refuses to adopt the two-match evening format used at the Australian Open and US Open, citing concerns about late finishes. The reasoning treats brevity as a flaw and assumes that shorter competition means lesser value.
Jelena Ostapenko, who won the 2017 title and played one of the rare women's night matches in 2022, told the BBC she loved the atmosphere of a full stadium. "I think that's what we all play for," she said — before adding, with quiet resignation, that she did not know whether anything would change.
This week, the WTA's newly appointed chief executive, Valérie Camillo, met with Mauresmo at Roland Garros. The WTA called it open and productive. But the French Open has resisted identical pressure for three consecutive years. Even the prospect of Osaka facing world number one Aryna Sabalenka — a match Osaka herself called a "popcorn match" — seemed unlikely to earn a night slot. If that pairing cannot move the needle, it is difficult to imagine what would.
Every night this May, as the sun dropped over Roland Garros, the lights came on above Court Philippe Chatrier for eight evening matches. All eight belonged to men. It was the latest chapter in a pattern so consistent it had stopped feeling like a choice and started feeling like policy.
No woman has played a night match at the French Open since 2023. In the five years since the tournament introduced single-match evening sessions in 2021, women have been given four of the sixty available slots. This year, the count stands at zero. The math is stark: thirty-two consecutive night sessions, all men.
When Naomi Osaka, a four-time Grand Slam champion, was asked about the French Open's night matches, she said she did not even associate them with women's tennis anymore. The comment landed like a confession—not of her own indifference, but of the tournament's. Jessica Pegula, ranked fifth in the world, had said the previous year that fighting this battle felt like hitting her head against a wall. Ons Jabeur, a two-time Wimbledon finalist, had posed a sharper question: did the people making these decisions have daughters?
The tournament director, Amelie Mauresmo—herself a former world number one—has offered a consistent explanation. Women's matches, she argues, finish too quickly. A two-set victory, she reasons, does not justify the ticket prices, which range from fifty to two hundred and forty pounds. The French Open refuses to adopt the two-match evening format used at the Australian Open and US Open, citing fears of matches running late into the night. It is a logic that treats speed as a liability rather than a virtue, and assumes that shorter competition represents worse value.
Jelena Ostapenko, who won the French Open women's singles in 2017, remains one of the few women to have played under the lights at Roland Garros. Her second-round match against France's Alize Cornet was scheduled for the night session in 2022. She told the BBC that she loved playing in those conditions, especially when the stadium filled with spectators. "I'm the kind of player that really enjoys it when there are a lot of fans watching," she said, "and I think that's what we all play for." Yet she also acknowledged the futility of the conversation. "I hope it will change," she said. "But I don't know that we will."
The pressure has mounted from multiple directions. The WTA, women's tennis's governing body, has pushed back. Broadcasters, according to reports, have made their own case. For three consecutive years, players and advocates have raised the same question. The French Open has not budged. This week, Valerie Camillo, the newly appointed WTA chief executive, met with Mauresmo at Roland Garros to seek answers. The WTA called it an open and productive conversation. Camillo emphasized that women's players have delivered some of the most exciting and dynamic competition in global sport. Whether that argument moves the needle remains unclear.
The timing felt almost designed to test the tournament's resolve. Osaka was scheduled to face Aryna Sabalenka, the current world number one, in the last sixteen on Monday. If any women's match qualified as a marquee event—a "popcorn match," as Osaka put it—this was it. Yet even that blockbuster pairing seemed unlikely to earn the night slot. The French Open's criteria, whatever they are, have proven remarkably resistant to the sport's biggest names and most compelling matchups. If Osaka against Sabalenka does not meet them, it is hard to imagine what would.
Notable Quotes
I don't even associate the French Open with night matches— Naomi Osaka, four-time Grand Slam champion
I like to play at night—especially when the stadiums are full. I think that's what we all play for— Jelena Ostapenko, 2017 French Open women's singles champion
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does the French Open keep saying women's matches are too short? Aren't there plenty of three-setters?
The tournament director's argument isn't really about what actually happens on court—it's about perceived value. They've decided that a two-set match, even if it's thrilling, doesn't justify a ticket that costs up to £240. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy: women don't get the night slot, so fans don't expect to see them there, so the tournament uses that expectation to justify not putting them there.
But the Australian Open and US Open both do two-match night sessions. Why can't the French Open?
They say they're worried about late finishes. But that's also a choice—other tournaments have decided the trade-off is worth it. The French Open has decided it isn't, and they've stuck to that decision even as players, broadcasters, and the WTA have all pushed back.
What does this actually cost the women players?
Visibility, first. Night matches reach the largest audiences in France, Europe, and the US. If you're not playing then, millions of people don't see you. That affects sponsorships, endorsements, your profile. It also sends a message about whose tennis matters enough to showcase.
Naomi Osaka said she doesn't even associate the French Open with women's night matches. That's striking.
It is. She's saying the exclusion has become so complete that it's not even on her radar anymore. That's what happens when a pattern goes unchallenged for years—it stops feeling like discrimination and starts feeling like the natural order of things.
Do you think Mauresmo, being a former world number one herself, should know better?
You'd think so. But she's the tournament director now, not a player. She's defending an institution and a business model. Whether she agrees with the logic privately is almost beside the point—she's chosen to defend it publicly, and the French Open has chosen to keep doing what it's always done.