The Tiger's Eye: Envisioning a Woman in the Oval Office

I'm ready.

I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter

Dancing through the fire

Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar

Louder, louder than a lion

Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar

-lyrics from Katie Perry's ROAR

Let me confess – pop anthems have always moved me. But Katy Perry's "Roar" has worked its way under my skin in a way that took me years to fully grasp. It's not just the soaring chorus or the infectious beat; it's that image of the tiger's eye, of the fighter's spirit, that keeps surfacing in my mind as I contemplate the peculiar glass ceiling that hovers above 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Now that I finally see it, the metaphor almost writes itself: a woman president would indeed need that tiger's eye, that unflinching gaze that cuts through centuries of tradition, expectation, and resistance.

Let me pause here to acknowledge my own evolution on this matter. I was raised in an era when "woman president" was treated as something between a curiosity and a punchline, like flying cars or colonies on Mars – theoretically possible but hardly imminent. We've moved past that now, though the progress feels glacial, as if our nation is caught in an endless social dance – two steps forward, a nervous pause, sometimes a step back, then forward again. Like reluctant dancers at a grand ball, each generation moves us closer to this inevitable change, even as we collectively hesitate at the threshold of history.

The statistics sit before me like a row of judges' gavels: women earning the majority of higher education degrees, running Fortune 500 companies, commanding military operations, leading scientific breakthroughs. Yet somehow, the presidency remains encrypted in masculine terms, as if leadership at this level possesses some mysterious Y-chromosome requirement that history has failed to document.

As I wade through the historical record, what strikes me most is not the achievements themselves – impressive though they are – but the way each advance was initially dismissed as impossible, then improbable, then inevitable. Women's suffrage was once considered a radical notion that would destroy the fabric of society. The same was said about women in law schools, in corporate boardrooms, in space shuttles. Each time, the sky stubbornly refused to fall.

Consider the extraordinary compression of time. My grandmother was born before women could vote; my mother came of age when women couldn't open a bank account without a male cosigner; our daughters grew up in a world where women command space stations. Each generation has pushed the boundaries of the possible, like waves reshaping a coastline – persistent, relentless, inevitable.

Of course, the presidency isn't just another job to be filled. It's a symbol, a repository of national aspirations and fears, a mirror in which we see reflected our collective self-image. Perhaps this is why the barrier has proved so durable – it's not just about qualifications or capability, but about our willingness to reimagine that most iconic of American roles.

But here's what I find myself returning to: the presidency is, above all, a job about leading people. If there's one area where women have consistently excelled, it's not only family, its understanding and managing the complex human dynamics that make organizations – and nations – work. The skills that have been historically dismissed as "soft" – emotional intelligence, consensus-building, multitasking, crisis management – are precisely the qualities most needed in an era of global interconnection and rapid change.

They say the tiger's eye sees in the dark. It cuts through illusion. And perhaps that's what we need now: clear vision to see past our inherited assumptions, courage to move beyond our comfortable traditions, wisdom to recognize that leadership knows no gender.

When I connect with my far-flung family—my daughters in their respective cities, each raising their own children, while my wife and I follow their lives through video calls and photo streams—I see three generations of women grappling with society's messages about possibility and limitation. They know women can command armies and lead Fortune 500s; they encounter these achievements in their schoolwork, see them in the news, and accept them as natural and unremarkable. Yet, across miles and generations, from my wife's quiet observations to my daughters' hard-won professional successes to our granddaughters' boundless dreams, they all notice the same glaring absence at the top: the persistent anomaly of that highest office. "Why hasn't there been a woman president yet?"

My answer is, "Soon." Soon, because the alternative is no longer sustainable. Soon, because the talent pool is too deep, the need too great, the moment too ripe to continue this historical aberration. Soon, because our daughters and their generation deserve to be valued in a country where their highest aspirations aren't bounded by gender.

The tiger's eye is watching. The fighter's spirit is rising. And the roar? Well, that's just the sound of history catching up to reality. Kamala Harris sealed her first speech at the Democratic National Convention with her trademark declaration: 'When we fight,' she said, 'we win!'"

I see this happening and I voted for Kamala Harris.

Imagine this - SOON.