On the whole age thing…
Back in my mid-20s, I used to work for one of the big bookstore chains. One of my fellow employees was this woman whom I absolutely loved. She was smart, cool, artistic, and just fun to be around. She was also clearly a lot older than I was, though her exact age would have been hard to gage–could have been anywhere from late 50s to late 60s. I didn’t really think about this much; I knew we weren’t the same age, but it seemed irrelevant. I just enjoyed her company.
Anyway, we used to talk a lot and she was a very open person; she wasn’t scared to share her views or her history, even when either was unconventional. So I was surprised when one day in the context of a conversation I asked her what her age was, and she refused to tell me. I told her it didn’t matter to me, and she still refused to share the info. At the time, I found this both surprising and a little insulting–did she think I would judge her based on her age? I reassured her again it didn’t matter to me, and said I thought it was strange that she could be open about so many things, but this one thing, which I felt was of little consequence, she wouldn’t discuss. She said something like, “I don’t really share that, because people change when they know my age. I’d rather you just relate to me without a number attached.” I let it drop and never brought it up again, but I thought for years that she was being silly. I thought to myself that when I got older I’d never do that; that I’d always be proud of my age and announce it freely.
Turns out that’s a pretty easy proclamation to make when you’re 23. Also turns out that at 40, I am starting to grasp why my friend wouldn’t share her info.
I turned 40 last summer. By all accounts, I look and act much younger than what people’s conception of 40 is. In general, people tend to assume that I’m about 8-10 years younger than I am. I have good genetics that way; all of my family looks younger than their age. And having made some lifestyle choices that buck the standard “middle-aged, suburban soccer mom” trend, people also tend to assume from my lifestyle that I’m younger than I am.
I’m not embarrassed to be 40. I like it. And, to cop a phrase from Gloria Steinem, when people say, “Wow, you don’t look/seem 40,” I always want to say to them, “No, you’re mistaken. This is what 40 looks like [also].”
But I’ve begun to notice some significant differences in people’s reactions to my age when I reveal it now. When I was in my 20s, and even in my 30s, people would sometimes act surprised at hearing what my real age was, but there seemed to be no concept attached to it. It really does feel like the word “forty” is some cross-over threshold in people’s minds. I am currently friendly with people of many ages–some almost 20 years younger than I am; some nearing 20 years older. I don’t really notice this stuff most of the time. But I have noticed a new level of reaction/response when I share my age now, particularly with people younger than I am. I sometimes feel like people suddenly put a little bit of a wall up–like if I tell someone who is an acquaintance my age before I have gotten very friendly with them, they suddenly pull back, thinking “oh, not in my age bracket; we can’t have anything in common.” I also run into situations where I refer to a pop culture reference that some of my friends and acquaintances are too young to know. Sometimes–not always, but sometimes–I feel like the air gets uncomfortable around that.
Not everyone’s been like that. I’ve made some friends recently who younger than I am and are well aware of my age and seem to have no issues with it. But sometimes it felt at the start like some of them had to “train” themselves not to have issues with it. And occasionally the topic comes up in weird ways, “Someone your age wouldn’t [fill in some weird assumption or other].”
I can’t say I’ve been entirely innocent of some of this behavior myself. I can remember having older coworkers who seemed to have trouble with computer issues, for instance, and I automatically assumed their age made comprehension more difficult for them; and that they might not be able to get up to speed on modern stuff too fast.
I think about that sometimes. Not often, but it’s begun to occur to me for the first time in my life. Professionally, will people begin to think my age indicates a lack of being “plugged in;” that it will mean I’m not “cutting edge” enough to be able to think up new, viable ideas? Will I begin to be discounted and devalued, just because of a stupid number? And if I don’t always want to be involved with the new-new thing, will I be unable to survive and support myself?
I don’t know the answers to these. And I feel that all I can do is be myself and know my capabilities, and assume that other people will come around to seeing what they are, despite possible initial prejudices.
I also still tell myself I am proud I’m 40, and I have no need to hide it from anyone, and people can learn from me to be proud of who they are at any age. I still tell myself I want to proudly announce my age when I’m in my 50s, and 60s, and 70s and beyond.
But these days I also have suddenly had thoughts where I think, “You know, my friend at the bookstore might have had a point. Maybe I want to do that, too.” Some days I think it might be better. Not to LIE about my age and say I’m younger than I am (which I could get away with, but refuse to do)–but to just refuse to share it. To let the person I’m talking to think whatever they want to, and relate to me without the added information.
I think now that it wasn’t that my friend was ashamed of her age at all–that she was fine with it. That it wasn’t about that old stupid saying, “A lady never reveals her age.” It wasn’t about her femininity o need to be seen as young.
I think that maybe even though she was fine with it for herself, perhaps she just wanted to protect herself from a world that is sometimes not fine with it. That she preferred to be ageless, not pinpointed in time. Which is, quite honestly, how I feel. I don’t feel a particular age. I feel ageless.
I suppose that’s an answer I can give, “I am ageless.” But on the other hand, it may sound a bit…precious to say something like that.
So here I am at 40, starting to realize that age both doesn’t and can sometimes matter, in different ways, depending on how I want to look at it. And I’m now contemplating two diametrically opposed things. Part of me wants to honor my feeling of agelessness and not label myself with a number (seriously, I hate numbers and labels of all sorts, really). But another part of me wants to proudly proclaim what age I am and blow away stereotypes and fuck anyone who can’t handle it or can’t see past it; their problem, not mine.
Have any of you ever thought about this kind of thing? What are your thoughts on it? How do you handle the age thing? Have you ever made assumptions about someone based on their age?
Posted by dea on Jul 11, 2008 in thinkin' ·
Tags: age, ageism, stereotypes, turning 40
I’m 38, I’ve always been ‘older than my age’, and yeah… I look 38-40. I don’t mind telling people my age because when I was 10 and someone said they were 40, they always seemed so old, either in the way they moved or operated or lived, not 40. My aunt Mav was the exception to the rule of 40 at that time and I take my cue from her (and my uncle Dane, who’s the best example of loving life I can ever think of).
Do I stereotype younger people or older people? I do younger. They have to try harder to impress me, quite frankly, because I’ve become curmudgeonly in my estimations of them and have no patience for poorly spoken English or (horrors!) poor writing skills, especially when it’s born out of laziness. This is ESPECIALLY true when someone young tells me their ‘hero’ is the latest sports figure or pop star or they’re (painfully) trying to emulate some ‘celebrity’. I never had slack cut for me at the age of 10-20, so I don’t cut slack in return.
I say embrace your age, use it as an excuse when necessary for doing what you want to do, and if someone says ‘Hey, how old are you?’ use it as a launch pad and turn it around “Well, my birth certificate says I’m 40, but I feel like I’m 10 today”. You can also go with the “A lady never tells, but who says I’m a lady? I’m proud to have survived 40 years!” If someone says “You don’t look 40!” then use the Steinem’s quote, because if they think you look younger, they’ll let you know, and if they think you look older, they’ll let you know too (although they may not be as nice about it). Or they could just be angling for a way to tell you THEIR age so you can be kind to them about it :) “You’re 46? No way!” seems to work and you don’t have to explain it out either way :)
I’ve always been pegged as much younger than I am, and get pegged at mid-late 20s now (I’m 37).
I like the attitude you’re attributing to your co-worker. On one hand, I’m proud of having grown as a result of my life experience, and I like myself much more. On the other, I prefer not dealing with other people’s baggage about age if they have issues with mine. I did tell someone my age a couple months ago, and he reacted with a great deal of shock. He said, “Wow, I had no idea you were that old.” He seemed bowled over. Clearly, he was riddled with stereotypes. I’d just rather not experience that again.
Like DN, I do tend to stereotype younger people a bit. They just seem so shiny to me, while I feel weathered and battered by my past. With some exceptions, they don’t have much of a history yet. I have a patina that they don’t seem to. Most other grad students around me are in their mid to late 20s, and while they are highly intelligent, I feel some distance from them. I feel sort of …venerable, I guess.
So for now, I elect to withhold my age.
You’re a damn hot 40. And I can say that with some authority.
I’ve thought about this most days for the last two decades or so. For one thing, my job puts me in regular contact with people whose median age is 20 years younger than mine. And then, by some odd twist of fate, about half my social life propels me into contact with the exact same people.
I’m a private person anyway, and I tend to adopt a don’t ask/don’t tell policy. When people ask me where I’m from, I say “it’s complicated”; when they ask me what I do, I say “various things”; When they ask me how old I am, I say “I forget. Must be the alzheimer’s”. I don’t like people making assumptions about me, and I try my hardest to return the favour, so I never ask anyone a question that might pigeonhole them.
A few years ago, I met an awesome girl while winter hiking in a nearby range. We met again to go to some club event, we started fucking, there were more dates and I met a few more of her friends. At some point we were all in a basement party at 4am with a guitar and the conversation turned to University choices for the fall, and I realized (at the time with mild shock) that I’d pulled a “Renton“. And then, in less than five minutes, I realized that the only person it seemed to matter to was me. So I stopped letting it matter.
I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this. Senile dementia has played havoc with my thought process (while I’m making that joke, I should fess up that I honestly can’t recall what if anything I told you when you asked me my age online. It was a while ago). I guess I’m saying that I don’t handle it at all, because I refuse to accept that there’s anything to handle. Maybe. What was the question, again?
I’ve been thinking about it more as I’ve read all your comments (and compliments–thanks, KE). And two things come to mind:
1) I think the “40 reaction” doesn’t always happen just with younger folks. It happens on the older side, too, but it’s different. Most people my age think I’m younger than them. Most people even older than that think I’m really young. So some of them assume a certain amount of inexperience–the sort of thing GG was talking about feeling. And they’ll talk to me with an attitude based on that assumption. So this can also be hard in terms of gaining respect in professional situations. And when my age finally does come up (like, say, if I mention something about my history that’s anchored in a particular era), I can see THEIR demeanor change too. Suddenly they seem to be thinking, “Oh shit, she knows more than I thought she did.” I also sometimes see relief come over them if I’ve asked them their age and then share mine, as if they were afraid of MY (assumed younger) reaction, and then they feel like, “Whew, she wont’ think I’m old. I can talk to her now.” It’s weird how all these assumptions get made related to age, on both ends of the scale.
2) When I wrote out the two different states of mind I currently have around the issue, and the two different methods of dealing with it, I instantly had the reaction that the first one felt like hiding and the second one felt open. I’ve spent a lot of my life covering up stuff I thought I needed to protect myself from people’s responses to. And I’ve been working really hard to get rid of that mentality. So maybe even if I’m sensitive to people’s reactions, I should just go with the option that feels more open and shame-free, which would be revealing my age openly. But I dunno…
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