Why are attitudes to ageing so conflicted? At what point does negativity take hold? Is ageism worse for women than men? What can be done to stop the vicious cycle and spread some good news for a change? These are some of the questions addressed in our Reflection on Ageing and Ageism.
somewhere and sometime
a mouse and a cat
used to eat from one bowl
it would’ve lasted till today
if the cat hadn’t been told
that mice are edible.
I came across this poem some years ago and asked people to suggest a title for it. I got some noteworthy replies, such as ‘Food for Thought’, ‘Influence’, ‘Migrants’ and ‘A Little Knowledge is a Dangerous Thing.’ The original title the Polish poet, Marek Czuku, chose was ‘Politics’, which is intriguing because if you substitute ‘young’ and ‘old’ for ‘cat’ and ‘mouse’, and play around with the poem a little, you get an interesting angle on intergenerational politics:
somewhere and sometime
young and old
used to work and play together
it would’ve lasted till today
if the young hadn’t been told
that ageing is negative.
At what stage in our lives did we pick up the message that ageing is bad? Associated with deficit, deficiency, diminishment, decline? Or loss of youth, agency, vigour, agility, mobility, attractiveness? The answer, by all accounts, is very early in childhood. Why? Because society is casually and insidiously ageist. It buys into and promotes an array of self-limiting beliefs. As Ayalon & Tesch-Römer (2018) defined it, ageism is ‘the complex, often negative construction of old age, which takes place at the individual and societal levels.’ Or, as the World Health Organisation noted, ageism ‘refers to the stereotypes (how we think), prejudice (how we feel), and discrimination (how we act) directed towards people on the basis of their age’. Taken together, both definitions remind us that ageism is engrained in our institutions and in ourselves, consciously and unconsciously. It is personal (affecting thoughts, feelings, actions and relationships) and systemic (shaping guidelines, policies, laws).
In many respects ageism is a numbers game, a legacy of patriarchy with its compulsion to categorize human beings by age, sex, race, ethnicity, class. Ageing – a lifelong process – is reduced to a number, which operates more like a barrier, a limit or a label. This serves neither young or old because, as Anna Karpf noted, ‘The denigration of age is built upon the idealisation of youth, and both do violence to reality. Being young is rarely as unconflicted, nor old as wretched, as the stereotypes would have us believe.’ A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
Stereotypes (mental representations or pictures in the mind) which are out of date and don’t fit anymore do violence to reality. Ageing is fluid, not fixed; dynamic, not static; diverse, not homogeneous. Like other complex, evolving processes, it does not lend itself to stereotypes. Thus, when it comes to ageing, language with its preference for binary oppositions (like young / old) is at a loss. It often polarizes rather than reflects the more complex truth, thereby enforcing structural ageism.
There is no one-size-fits-all model for human ageing. Segmenting our lifespan into sections is not particularly helpful. It takes no account of the marked variation between biological and chronological age. Or the fact that ageing is much more an attitude than a number. The politics of ageing is not a binary (‘young’ / old’) but a spectrum (with a range of different possibilities). People today enjoy opportunities denied to previous generations, not least in terms of longevity.
So why do we find it so difficult to reflect ageing as it is now, as well as to re-imagine ageing as it could be tomorrow? The answer to some extent lies within, in the internalised ageism we have picked up from childhood; the messages or self-limiting beliefs which have become more and more entrenched over time. The language we use highlights a failure of imagination. Here I’m reminded of the lines from Harry Chapin’s song: ‘Flowers are red, and green leaves are green / There’s no need to see them any other way / Than the way they always have been seen.’ Learned assumptions are deep-rooted and hard to shift. Which is what makes ageism so pervasive and pernicious at once. How easily we discriminate against ourselves and others with remarks like ‘I’m too old for this’, ‘She’s too old for that.’ As Ashton Applewhite expressed it, ‘It is ageism, for more than the passage of time, that makes growing older harder for all of us.’
It has been argued that ageism disproportionately affects women because it intersects and exacerbates sexism, another deeply embedded form of prejudice in society. As Carrie Fisher noted, ‘Men don’t age better than women, they’re just allowed to.’ This is particularly evident in the media. Witness the case of television presenter Miriam O’Reilly who won her case against the BBC in 2011 on the grounds of age discrimination. As she pointed out, there was ‘one rule for men’ on whom ageing bestowed gravitas and another for women forced to make changes to their appearance in order to look ‘the right age’ for a job. Or, as Radio 4 presenter Libby Purves expressed it (after her show Midweek was axed in 2017): ‘Does the BBC have a problem with older women? Are we written off as old trouts while men become revered elders, sacred patriarchs, silver foxes?’ Gendered ageism it seems is a double whammy for women, professional or otherwise, as age is used to justify all manner of bias and discrimination. As Czuku’s poem might say:
somewhere and sometime
a woman and a man
used to present on tv
it would’ve lasted till today
if the woman hadn’t been told
she was not ‘the right age’.
So what can we do to combat ageism? A few suggestions, with a little help from the poets:
- Make your own music.
Find your own positive message for ageing (‘I’m still me’. ‘Ageing is living.’ ‘Age is more an attitude than a number.’) and share it. Dance to the beat of your own drum.
As Brendan Kennelly expressed it in relation to his father: ‘You made your own music / Always in tune with yourself.’
- Debunk the Myths.
There is no ‘right age’ or ‘right time’ for anything. We are never too old to learn, acquire new skills, pursue different hobbies or interests. Ageing enriches not diminishes us. As Maya Angelou might say, ‘Shadows on the wall / Noises down the hall / Ageing doesn’t frighten me at all.’
- Rise to the challenge.
If ageing is living and living is ageing, there will always be challenges. Be undaunted. Stay connected. Resilience keeps us going. It is a creative force within. As Dylan Thomas exclaimed: ‘The force that through the green fuse drives the flower / Drives my green age.’
- Get Engaged, Be Amazed.
Mary Oliver concludes her poem, ‘When Death Comes’, with these words: ‘When it’s over, I want to say: all my life / I was a bride married to amazement…When it’s over… / I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened, / or full of argument. I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.’
Ageing, for her, is an opportunity not just to visit the world but to savour it, cherish it, make the most of it. A call to Get Engaged, Be Amazed.