// WIRED US/UK — INTELLIGENZA ARTIFICIALE
The Search for Silicon Valley’s Most Powerful Woman
Mira Murati was trying to speak. Women swished around in evening gowns, men in tuxes. Giant piles of carved meat rested like sleeping babies on banquet tables draped in linens as red as a handmaid’s robe. Bartenders served up a cocktail named Zero to One, a nod to the philosophy of Peter Thiel.
It was a recent Saturday night in a converted church in San Francisco, and the Foundation for American Innovation, a center-right think tank, was hosting a black-tie affair to hype the new religion of AI.
Murati, the founder and CEO of Thinking Machines Lab, was talking about the history of revolutions to a crowd of more than 350 people. The Albanian-born executive had for several years kept a relatively low profile as a VP and then CTO of OpenAI before participating in an unsuccessful coup against Sam Altman and then launching her own $12 billion AI startup. Now, with chatter bouncing off the church walls, Murati’s efforts to get her points across were about as successful as that coup: No one seemed to be listening. The woman interviewing Murati asked more than once for people to stop talking or take their conversations outside.
I whispered to the friend sitting next to me that this was the second time in a week that I’d seen a woman getting drowned out. She sighed. Both of us were there to actually hear what Murati had to say. I tried to restrain myself from what I said next, but I sensed my friend was holding back too. “Her hair is amazing, though,” I hissed. “Oh my God, I know,” she replied immediately. Murati’s hair has achieved AGI. Her jaw cuts glass.
Soon after, President Donald Trump’s top science adviser, Michael Kratsios, took the stage. The crowd quieted down. We are all part of the problem.
Over the past three months, I’ve been asking anyone and everyone about the most powerful women in Silicon Valley, a club to which Murati clearly belongs. Ask who the most powerful man in tech is and many quickly say “Elon.” Or “Jensen.” Or “Sam.” Wait a beat and you might hear the name of a billionaire VC whose financial capital has been broadly and ruthlessly deployed to advance an agenda, like “Peter” or “Marc.” Ask who the most powerful woman is, and most people respond with a thoughtful pause. A thinking-face emoji. “Gwynne?” “Lisa?” “Daniela, maybe?”
An astute observer of the Valley might posit that the most powerful woman has to jet-set between SV and DC, like Ruth Porat, the president and chief investment officer of Google, or Dina Powell McCormick, Meta’s president and vice chair. WIRED’s top editor—a woman—said at one point, “Isn’t it obviously Gwynne Shotwell?” Then a Silicon Valley CEO told me that whenever she mentions the SpaceX president and chief operating officer, her friends say “Gwynne who?”
Some people seemed allergic to my question. They don’t view tech as gendered, they told me, or didn’t have much to say. Who cares? Just put your head down and do the work.
Still, the question provoked reactions. My conversations—which took place on the phone and Zoom, in boardrooms, in San Francisco coffee shops, in a Palo Alto home where my source dozed off on the couch—produced a wealth of options, ranging from founders and CEOs to venture capitalists and philanthropic ex-wives. Some of those women, both CEOs and those who call bullshit on CEOs, spoke to me at length.
Nobody wants to talk about women in tech anymore—not even women in tech. Is that progress?