The story of I'm Not a Slut, I'm a Journalist
Marie Portolano's documentary I'm Not a Slut, I'm a Journalist opens a door into a world that's rarely examined from the inside: the everyday reality of women working in sports broadcasting and journalism. The film isn't a grand exposé with dramatic reenactments or hidden-camera footage. Instead, it's something more intimate—and more damning. Over twenty journalists who work (or have worked) at major outlets like BeIN Sports, RMC Sport, France Télévisions, Canal+, TF1, L'Équipe, and Radio France sit down and talk. They talk about the "yucky jokes," the relentless social media abuse, the physical comments about their appearance, the sexual innuendos, and the outright harassment they've endured simply for showing up to do their jobs. What emerges is a portrait of an industry that, despite a visible increase in female on-air talent and bylines, remains fundamentally hostile to women.
Behind the making of I'm Not a Slut, I'm a Journalist
Produced by Canal+, one of France's largest media companies, I'm Not a Slut, I'm a Journalist arrived in 2021 with a title designed to shock—because shock is often the only way to get attention. The film's 76-minute runtime is lean and purposeful, letting the testimony speak without unnecessary padding. What's striking is that Portolano didn't need to hunt down reluctant subjects; these journalists were ready to talk, which itself says something about how badly the industry needed this conversation. The documentary holds a solid 7.9/10 on IMDb, a rating that reflects both its critical respect and its resonance with viewers who recognize the patterns it documents. The film operates as a kind of collective testimony—not a single narrative arc, but a chorus of voices describing the same culture from different angles, different platforms, different moments in their careers. Some of these women have been on the receiving end of misogynistic comments for years; others have faced moral or sexual harassment that goes well beyond "banter." Canal+ greenlit this project at a moment when French media was beginning to reckon with its own #MeToo reckoning, though the problem it documents is far from uniquely French.
What makes I'm Not a Slut, I'm a Journalist stand out
Here's what I keep coming back to: the film doesn't frame women in sports media as victims waiting for rescue. Instead, it frames them as professionals who are furious—and rightfully so. The anger in the documentary isn't performed or curated for maximum emotional impact; it's the real, exhausted, sometimes bitter anger of people who've been told to smile through harassment, to ignore the comments, to prove themselves over and over again in ways their male colleagues never have to. What makes the documentary work isn't flashy filmmaking (there isn't any), but rather the specificity of what these journalists describe. They talk about the boy's club mentality that pervades sports media—a culture where women's presence is tolerated but not welcomed, where competence is constantly questioned, where a woman's appearance becomes fair game for public commentary in ways that would be unthinkable for a man. The film doesn't shy away from the social media component either, documenting the torrents of abuse that follow women who dare to have opinions about sports. The documentary's power lies in its refusal to soften the story or offer easy redemption; it's a film that says, "This is what's happening, these are the people it's happening to, and we're not pretending it's acceptable." Portolano's approach—straightforward, unglamorous, focused entirely on the voices of the journalists themselves—turns out to be exactly the right editorial choice.
Where to stream I'm Not a Slut, I'm a Journalist online
The film is available across major OTT platforms, and you can check the streaming-availability widget at the top of this page to see which service currently has it in your region. Since streaming rights shift frequently, Movie OTT tracks where I'm Not a Slut, I'm a Journalist is available right now so you don't have to hunt across three different apps. The documentary's 76-minute length makes it perfect for a single sitting—no commitment beyond an hour and change, though you'll likely want to sit with it for a while afterward. Given the subject matter and the specificity of French sports media culture it addresses, the film's availability on major platforms represents a real opportunity for broader audiences to understand how systemic these problems are.
Frequently asked questions
Q: Who directed I'm Not a Slut, I'm a Journalist?
Marie Portolano directed and produced the documentary. Portolano is herself a sports journalist and broadcaster, which gives the film an insider's perspective and credibility that an outside director might not have brought.
Q: Is I'm Not a Slut, I'm a Journalist available to stream?
Yes, the film is currently available on major OTT services. Check the Where to Watch widget on this page to see which platforms carry it in your area, as availability varies by region and changes over time.
Q: How long is I'm Not a Slut, I'm a Journalist?
The documentary runs 76 minutes, making it a compact but comprehensive look at the experiences of over twenty sports journalists.
Q: What networks and outlets are featured in the documentary?
Journalists from BeIN Sports, RMC Sport, France Télévisions, Canal+, TF1, L'Équipe, and Radio France are among those who testify in the film, representing both television and print/digital sports media.
Q: Is this documentary only about French sports media?
While the film focuses on French outlets and journalists, the patterns it documents—harassment, sexism, a boys' club culture, social media abuse—are universal problems in sports journalism globally. The specificity of the French context actually makes the broader issues more visible.
Final thoughts on I'm Not a Slut, I'm a Journalist
I'm Not a Slut, I'm a Journalist isn't easy to watch, but it's essential viewing. It's a film for anyone who cares about media, about how women are treated in male-dominated industries, or about why representation without respect is meaningless. The documentary doesn't offer solutions or a tidy ending—it just documents a problem that's been allowed to fester for far too long. That refusal to provide false comfort is actually its greatest strength. Watch it.
