Eva Ludwig
More than 99% of Eileen Gu’s estimated $23 million in annual earnings comes from endorsements, while only about $100,000 comes from skiing prizes. That gap is hard to ignore — and it’s also the center of why her decision to compete for China, rather than the U.S., in the Olympics continues to draw so much attention.
Gu was born and raised in the U.S. and initially competed for the U.S. before switching to represent China at age 15 in June 2019. Athletes switching the country they represent isn’t new, but in this case, the scale of what followed makes it feel different.
Before the switch, her earnings looked like those of a typical rising winter athlete, built mostly on competition and smaller sponsorships. After, everything changed.
By 2021, even before the Beijing Winter Olympics, her annual earnings had already exceeded $15 million, largely from Chinese endorsement deals. By 2025, that number had climbed to about $23 million, placing her among the highest-paid female athletes in the world — despite competing in a sport where prize money remains relatively low.
That contrast is what raises questions. When nearly all of an athlete’s income comes from branding tied to a specific country, it becomes difficult to separate financial opportunity from the decision of who to represent.
Not everyone sees it in that way.
“I think it is okay, because people switch teams all the time,” said freshman Kylie Huang.
From that perspective, money is simply part of the reality athletes face.
“We all need money,” Huang said. “There’s nothing wrong with that … If you feel like your hard work isn’t being appreciated enough, I think it’s the right choice to go somewhere else where you will be appreciated.”
That logic is understandable. Elite athletes have a short window, and the pressure to secure long-term stability is real.
But that reasoning starts to shift when applied to the Olympics as a whole. If representing a country becomes something athletes choose based on market size and endorsement potential, the meaning of the Olympics begins to change. Instead of reflecting identity and national pride, it risks becoming a platform of mercenary motives. When representation becomes flexible, meaning starts to blur.
Additionally, Olympic athletes operate within a narrow window — often peaking in their late teens or early twenties and competing in only one or two Olympic cycles, about four to eight years total. In that time, sponsorships and endorsements often become the primary way to secure long-term financial stability.
But in Gu’s case, the imbalance is unusually large. Earning roughly $23 million a year, with only about $100,000 coming from skiing, places far more weight on branding than on performance. That gap is what fuels criticism and makes her decision feel less about identity and more about opportunity.
At a certain point, it stops being just a personal choice. When representing a country can multiply an athlete’s income by tens of millions of dollars, it raises a larger question about what international competition is supposed to represent.
“I wish she represented her [American] identity with pride, but I do understand … she might take the other opportunity [with China],” said freshman Natcha Khachondechakul.
Is it still about national pride — or is it becoming a business decision?
Additional reporting suggests the financial incentives extended beyond endorsements. A leaked 2025 budget from the Beijing Municipal Sports Bureau indicated that Gu and another U.S.-born athlete received roughly $14 million over three years to support Olympic performance. Although the document was later altered and their names removed, it added to criticism that money played a significant role in her decision.
At the same time, Gu’s position allowed her to tap into opportunities few athletes ever have. With connections to both the U.S. and China, she became one of the most recognizable figures in Chinese sports marketing. China’s massive consumer market and the visibility of the Beijing Olympics created a level of exposure rarely available to winter athletes competing solely for the U.S.
Furthermore, Gu has occasionally spoken critically about the U.S. while representing China on the global stage, garnering more criticism to her decision. In interviews and public appearances around the Beijing Olympics, she emphasized feeling more connected to China while pointing out issues in the U.S., which some critics viewed as contradictory given that she was born, raised and trained in America.
The Olympics have long been framed as a competition built on national pride — a rare moment where athletes represent something bigger than themselves. When an athlete can vastly multiply their income by changing which country they represent, the lines between identity, opportunity and business begin to blur and the meaning of the Olympics weakens.
If representing a country can be shaped by money, then it’s no longer really about identity at all.
