Article below.
-----------------------------------
I have been feeling sad lately.
This year will be my 60th birthday. I have no problem with growing older: I like myself more now than I ever did when I was younger. I am healthy and active, my life is interesting and full.
Nevertheless, the realization is growing in me that my value as a person — specifically as a female person — in this society is vastly diminished from when I was young and lovely.
That makes me mad, too.
I recently read an interview with actress Andie MacDowell, who at 63 dared to flaunt her real salt-and-pepper hair on the runway at Cannes, against the advice of her managers. Addressing the double standard on aging in Hollywood that grants mega sex-appeal to silver-haired George Clooney, she said:
Ageism is the one prejudice we can all reasonably expect to experience in our lives.
Though we can’t stop the clock, we can stand against the unfair standard that says a woman loses value as she ages, while men often gain in perceived desirability, at least to a certain point far in excess of what we allow women.
This can be seen in the frequency of relationships (not only in Hollywood) between older men and younger women. They used to be called May-December relationships. Now they’re just called normal.
When I got divorced several years ago, it didn’t take me very long to figure out that my “competition” for men in their 50’s was not other women in their 50’s, but women in their 30’s. And the standards for judgment were not wisdom, experience, and maturity, but smooth skin and firm bodies.
Mind you, the men doing the judging wouldn’t do well by those standards either, but for them it didn’t seem to matter. They were judged on maturity, accomplishments, and (frankly) ability to provide. Their gray hair and weathered skin were deemed sexy.
In reality, in most cases, there is a pretty straightforward economic exchange going on. I find this sad, particularly for women with limited ability to advance outside of “marrying up.” I see them frequently in developing countries when I travel, on the beach with their older (often White) partners, not looking particularly happy.
Even when the economic disparity isn’t as obvious, the much younger woman is often striking a Faustian bargain.
When she’s 30 and he’s 50, it may seem like a good deal. When she’s 50 and he’s 70, probably less so. And if she splits up with him then, she’ll find herself competing with a new crop of 30-year-olds for men her age.
I don’t want to sound bitter. I don’t feel bitter; I feel dismayed. I’m dismayed that for all the advances women have made over the past century, for all the incredible ways women have contributed to the world on every stage, for all the inspiring, accomplished, brilliant, kick-ass women out there, we end up wasting precious time and energy worrying about whether to let our gray hair show.
We spend money and yet more time on products and procedures that help us hold back the hand of time a little bit longer. We judge ourselves and other women by impossible standards that we don’t apply to men. We allow ourselves to be trivialized by the pursuit of an ultimately unworthy and unattainable goal.
I have a theory (brace yourself) that the advent of Viagra in 1998 didn’t do men any favors. It goes like this: The second half of life presents all of us with an opportunity to deepen relationships and explore personal growth and spirituality. For many — if not most — men, the beginnings of erectile dysfunction in mid-life used to contribute to this need to turn inward for growth and satisfaction.
Once an easy cure was available for that conundrum, men became free to act like 20-year-olds well into their 60’s and 70’s. A mid-life crisis now is more likely to prompt a search for a younger woman than a spiritual insight.
Maybe most men wouldn’t see that as a cost, but I do. I had a very likeable coaching client in his mid-60’s who exemplified this dilemma. Although he was quite overweight, he had a string of girlfriends in their early 30’s who, he insisted, were really “into” him and not what he could provide.
Although we worked together for over a year, I eventually ended the coaching relationship when it became apparent that he never followed through on any of his goals or aspirations. Though sex with a 30-year-old isn’t wrong per se, his basic lack of introspection and self-honesty were major stumbling blocks for him.
So how do we fix this mess?
God, I don’t know.
It starts in our own heads. Both men and women. We need to seriously question what makes any person valuable: who they are on the inside, or what they look like on the outside?
We need to look at the partners we’re choosing (whether you’re a 30-year-old woman who always dates older men, or vice versa, or something else entirely) and ask ourselves why? Even if you still reach the same conclusions, do it with your eyes open to the ways culture is shaping your perceptions.
We need to look at ageism in general, and how we apply it to women in particular.
It’s not a recent phenomenon. I was just re-reading the novel Winds of War by Herman Wouk, which was published in 1971. One of the main characters is a woman in her 50’s. Every single time she’s mentioned, there’s a comment about the fact that she’s still looks young and beautiful. It was literally the only thing of note about her.
It’s a criminal waste of resources to reduce women to a single attribute — particularly one that’s almost totally beyond their control, and superficial by definition.
If we talk about it, read about it, think about it, and see more courageous role models like Andie MacDowell pushing back against the double standard of aging, we can regain the fullness of who we are, beyond the way we look.
It won’t be easy, but we can’t afford not to.
--------------------------
Thoughts?
-----------------------------------
I have been feeling sad lately.
This year will be my 60th birthday. I have no problem with growing older: I like myself more now than I ever did when I was younger. I am healthy and active, my life is interesting and full.
Nevertheless, the realization is growing in me that my value as a person — specifically as a female person — in this society is vastly diminished from when I was young and lovely.
That makes me mad, too.
I recently read an interview with actress Andie MacDowell, who at 63 dared to flaunt her real salt-and-pepper hair on the runway at Cannes, against the advice of her managers. Addressing the double standard on aging in Hollywood that grants mega sex-appeal to silver-haired George Clooney, she said:
Aging (and ageism) happens to both men and women. If you’re young right now, it might seem impossibly far away but — believe me — the time goes quickly. If you hang around on this Earth long enough, you’ll eventually experience it, guaranteed.
Ageism is the one prejudice we can all reasonably expect to experience in our lives.
Though we can’t stop the clock, we can stand against the unfair standard that says a woman loses value as she ages, while men often gain in perceived desirability, at least to a certain point far in excess of what we allow women.
This can be seen in the frequency of relationships (not only in Hollywood) between older men and younger women. They used to be called May-December relationships. Now they’re just called normal.
When I got divorced several years ago, it didn’t take me very long to figure out that my “competition” for men in their 50’s was not other women in their 50’s, but women in their 30’s. And the standards for judgment were not wisdom, experience, and maturity, but smooth skin and firm bodies.
Mind you, the men doing the judging wouldn’t do well by those standards either, but for them it didn’t seem to matter. They were judged on maturity, accomplishments, and (frankly) ability to provide. Their gray hair and weathered skin were deemed sexy.
In reality, in most cases, there is a pretty straightforward economic exchange going on. I find this sad, particularly for women with limited ability to advance outside of “marrying up.” I see them frequently in developing countries when I travel, on the beach with their older (often White) partners, not looking particularly happy.
Even when the economic disparity isn’t as obvious, the much younger woman is often striking a Faustian bargain.
When she’s 30 and he’s 50, it may seem like a good deal. When she’s 50 and he’s 70, probably less so. And if she splits up with him then, she’ll find herself competing with a new crop of 30-year-olds for men her age.
I don’t want to sound bitter. I don’t feel bitter; I feel dismayed. I’m dismayed that for all the advances women have made over the past century, for all the incredible ways women have contributed to the world on every stage, for all the inspiring, accomplished, brilliant, kick-ass women out there, we end up wasting precious time and energy worrying about whether to let our gray hair show.
We spend money and yet more time on products and procedures that help us hold back the hand of time a little bit longer. We judge ourselves and other women by impossible standards that we don’t apply to men. We allow ourselves to be trivialized by the pursuit of an ultimately unworthy and unattainable goal.
I have a theory (brace yourself) that the advent of Viagra in 1998 didn’t do men any favors. It goes like this: The second half of life presents all of us with an opportunity to deepen relationships and explore personal growth and spirituality. For many — if not most — men, the beginnings of erectile dysfunction in mid-life used to contribute to this need to turn inward for growth and satisfaction.
Once an easy cure was available for that conundrum, men became free to act like 20-year-olds well into their 60’s and 70’s. A mid-life crisis now is more likely to prompt a search for a younger woman than a spiritual insight.
Maybe most men wouldn’t see that as a cost, but I do. I had a very likeable coaching client in his mid-60’s who exemplified this dilemma. Although he was quite overweight, he had a string of girlfriends in their early 30’s who, he insisted, were really “into” him and not what he could provide.
Although we worked together for over a year, I eventually ended the coaching relationship when it became apparent that he never followed through on any of his goals or aspirations. Though sex with a 30-year-old isn’t wrong per se, his basic lack of introspection and self-honesty were major stumbling blocks for him.
So how do we fix this mess?
God, I don’t know.
It starts in our own heads. Both men and women. We need to seriously question what makes any person valuable: who they are on the inside, or what they look like on the outside?
We need to look at the partners we’re choosing (whether you’re a 30-year-old woman who always dates older men, or vice versa, or something else entirely) and ask ourselves why? Even if you still reach the same conclusions, do it with your eyes open to the ways culture is shaping your perceptions.
We need to look at ageism in general, and how we apply it to women in particular.
It’s not a recent phenomenon. I was just re-reading the novel Winds of War by Herman Wouk, which was published in 1971. One of the main characters is a woman in her 50’s. Every single time she’s mentioned, there’s a comment about the fact that she’s still looks young and beautiful. It was literally the only thing of note about her.
It’s a criminal waste of resources to reduce women to a single attribute — particularly one that’s almost totally beyond their control, and superficial by definition.
If we talk about it, read about it, think about it, and see more courageous role models like Andie MacDowell pushing back against the double standard of aging, we can regain the fullness of who we are, beyond the way we look.
It won’t be easy, but we can’t afford not to.
--------------------------
Thoughts?
