We still have a long way to go. Because the reality is that I'm

Hear now the voice of Doris Burke, a pioneer in her craft, who speaks not only of herself but of countless women who have walked unseen: “We still have a long way to go. Because the reality is that I'm 52-years-old. And how many 55 to 60-year-old women do you see in sports broadcasting? How many? I see a lot of 60-year-old men broadcasting. The physical appearance and natural aging of all the men doing this job don’t matter.” In her words lies the ache of truth and the fire of challenge. She names a wound that is not hers alone, but a wound borne by generations of women—an inequality of sight, of judgment, of opportunity.

When she says, “We still have a long way to go,” she echoes the voice of prophets who look upon the promised land from afar, knowing it has not yet been reached. For though the path has been cleared in part—though women now speak in the arenas of sport once closed to them—the road ahead still stretches long and uneven. The mere presence of women in these roles is not the final victory; true victory is when they stand with the same dignity of age, the same freedom from scrutiny, as the men beside them.

She points to the cruel double standard of aging. A man, weathered by years, gray of hair and heavy with time, is seen as seasoned, authoritative, wise. Yet a woman who bears the same marks of life is often judged not by her knowledge or voice, but by the lines upon her face. In this, the world reveals its blindness: honoring the wisdom of men while dismissing the wisdom of women. Burke exposes this injustice with clarity, asking, “How many?” Her repetition strikes like a hammer upon stone, demanding that the listener confront the emptiness of the answer.

Consider the story of Sophocles, the ancient playwright who at nearly ninety years old still brought forth tragedies for the Athenian stage. His wisdom and artistry were celebrated, his old age a crown upon his brow. No voice questioned whether his wrinkles made his words less potent, whether his failing body lessened his genius. Imagine, then, if a woman of equal skill had lived in that time—would she have been honored the same way, or silenced, her gifts unseen because of her years? History tells us the answer, and it is this wound that Burke names: the treasures of women, often hidden or cast aside, while men’s treasures are magnified with age.

Her words carry not bitterness, but the call of the guardian. She speaks for the future, for those who will come after. For though she has endured and thrived, she knows the world must be reshaped so that the next woman, standing at fifty or sixty, is not asked to prove her worth against the tyranny of appearances. Like the warriors who held the line so others might pass safely, Burke stands as both shield and witness, ensuring that the truth is spoken aloud so silence does not bury it.

The lesson, then, is clear: the worth of a person must never be tied to the mask of physical appearance. Age is not decay; it is the refinement of wisdom, the seasoning of voice, the deepening of presence. To deny this truth is to waste the richest harvest of human life. The practical action for us is to challenge the standard wherever we see it: to honor the voices of women as they age, to demand their inclusion, to refuse the shallow idol of youth when wisdom and experience lie before us.

Let each of us, in our own place, act as stewards of this truth. If you are young, respect the elders not for how they appear, but for what they carry. If you are aging, do not apologize for your years—wear them as the mark of battles fought, of lessons learned, of endurance proved. Speak as Burke has spoken: with clarity, with courage, with unflinching truth.

For the world will not change by silence but by the voices of those who name the wound. And as the ancients taught, the wound named is the wound already half-healed. Thus, let her words endure as a beacon: that we still have a long way to go, yes—but by walking together, honoring wisdom in every form, we shall arrive.