Stephanie Ellen Sy: Beyond the Stripes – Why I Wrote You Can’t Tame a Tiger
Welcome to Cantastic Authorpalooza, featuring posts by and about great Canadian children’s book creators! Today’s guest:
Stephanie Ellen Sy
. Take it away, Stephanie!
When my pandemic writing group challenged me to try fiction—specifically a children’s story—I knew exactly which question to explore, one formed by my own childhood: Who gets to decide what you are?
Growing up in Hong Kong’s international community, we were all “mutts,” in the best sense—constantly absorbing languages and traditions from one another, so that multiple passports and mixed identities weren’t remarkable. They were simply the norm. It was only later that I encountered a world obsessed with “neat, tidy boxes,” and saw how that pressure could weigh on a child. I wanted to write a story that would give children the courage to simply be themselves. That’s how You Can’t Tame a Tiger was born.
The book introduces a boy and his best friend, Imran, who is a tiger. There’s just one thing: Imran isn’t orange, and he has no stripes. This confounds the boy. How can his friend be a tiger if he doesn’t look like one?
So, the boy takes matters into his own hands. His first attempts are about finding any label for his friend. He draws zigzag stripes, hoping people will see a zebra. He paints polka dots, aiming for a cheetah. Each time, Imran corrects him with patient, if bemused, logic: “I don’t eat grass,” and “Tigers run when they feel like it.” His refrain, “You can’t tame a tiger,” is a gentle warning.
But the boy’s final attempt is the most direct. He takes a brush and tries to paint Imran orange, insisting, “I’m turning you into a tiger.” This is the ultimate act of “fixing,” and it’s the final straw. Imran doesn’t just correct him this time; he says “No,” and with a magnificent tiger-leap and a cannonball into a pool, he actively washes the paint away. He will not be painted into someone else’s idea of what he should be. The boy’s anxiety finally melts away only when Imran’s authentic roar convinces the other children. In that moment, the boy finally understands: his friend never needed fixing. The problem was his own fear that the world wouldn’t understand something unique. Imran’s lesson is simple but profound—true friendship means recognizing that the most magnificent thing about someone is the very thing you can’t tame.
That is the invitation at the heart of You Can’t Tame a Tiger: To find the courage to let those we love exist authentically. It’s a reminder that being truly seen for who you are is a gift we all deserve.
Especially tigers without stripes.
