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Several years ago I was taking improv. As one of my improv classes came to an end, a man who appeared to be in his forties said to me, “You know, I think it’s great that you get in here with these kids.”
I pointed out that we had several white-haired students and half our class had graduate degrees. They weren’t “kids.”
At a networking event, a thirtyish male came up while I was helping myself to the buffet. Instead of saying, “What do you do?” he asked, “Are you retired?”
People tried to tell me he meant it as a compliment. Yeah, right.
In her book, Old In Art School, Nell Painter writes about going to Rutgers University for art school at age sixty-four. The school was noted for welcoming students of diverse colors, genders, and backgrounds.
Nell herself had been a distinguished historian and professor. Yet once she joined the student body, she wrote (p.10), “At Rutgers, I stuck out more on account of age than race or quality of attention or personal apparel.”
A young female student blurted out, “How old are you?”
“Sixty-four,” replied Nell.
The student literally gasped … “not hostile, just stunned.” Her first reaction was, “OMG, I gotta tell my mom.”
I had a similar experience myself. I was working out in my gym when a young exchange student asked if she could take a photo with me to send to her mom. She was impressed that I was still working out.
I don’t know why. Olga Kotelko was winning track and field medals well into her 90s. Lots of senior games include participants in their 70s, 80s, and 90s. I don’t do games.
One of the best commentaries on stereotypes of aging comes from a chapter in Brene Brown’s book, I Thought It Was Just Me.
Brown says we have four key stereotypes of aging: the active “golden ager,” the perfect grandparent, the small town neighbor and the John Wayne conservative. These stereotypes “fit so closely that they give us permission to dismiss anything that deviates from that image.”
For instance, a “perfect grandma” knows her grandchildren are teasing when they say, “Dance for us, Grandma.” She does, although she feels hurt ad shamed. They want to see her as a clown, not a whole person.
This article comes directly from my book, When I Get Old I Plan To Be A Bitch. I’m finding millennials relate to it more than “older” people.
And one of my favorite comments has been, “Since I read your book I now understand why my mom feels offended when we tease her. You’ve given me a new way to think about growing old and dealing with older people.”
