By Julie E 
Photo Credit ( Pexels )
I had somewhat amusing incidents this summer. I became fifty. Additionally, I wasn’t feeling fit or amazing like some of the #fitfab50 women you see on Instagram. In actuality, I was in a major funk and felt awful about myself.
How could I be feeling so horrible about something as trivial as my aging face when I was raised by a strong, intellectual, and powerful mother who received comments on her daughter’s physical attributes with contempt and who taught me the worth of my intelligence? What had this lady done to my mother’s intelligent, self-assured daughter, and who was she? Furthermore, my apparent injury was made much more offensive by the fact that I identify as a feminist. I went all in and simply wallowing in it because it felt wrong on so many levels and I was unable to make sense of it or get myself out of the gloom. It wasn’t pretty if you will.
Then this occurred. I was complimented on my husband’s successful marriage by a man I had never met, who also said I was lovely. I felt positive about myself again for a brief minute after receiving that compliment, which infuriated me. Then this occurred. “What does your husband think about that?” was the comment that irritated me the most when I made the decision to stop coloring my gray hair, aside from the fear of the women at the hair salon. What do you say? No one has ever inquired about my thoughts on my husband growing bald, I can promise you. Suddenly, I was no longer in my funk.
Everyone finds aging difficult, but women may experience it more than others due to a well-known societal phenomenon known as Invisible Woman Syndrome. Middle-aged women frequently experience the strong feeling of being invisible. At the half-century mark, males are generally seen as having reached the pinnacle of their personal and professional careers, frequently serving as leaders of organizations and businesses, and being successful and seasoned. This contrasts with women, whose primary selling point is presumed to be their physical attributes, which we are told should be attractive to males and youthful.
According to a survey conducted among 2,000 women, many of them felt invisible to men by the time they turned 51. 46% of the women said that no one understood or addressed the challenges that older women face as they age, and just 15% of them felt that they had high or very high confidence in ANY area of their lives.
Many women over 50 experience an overpowering sense of being invisible and insignificant, whether it is due to the maturation of our physical characteristics, an empty nest, or being disregarded or neglected in social and public contexts. The shocking thing is that these women’s feelings of invisibility and irrelevance are supported by data—just one number, 49.
Numerous statistics, such as those pertaining to possessions, work, health, domestic violence, and sexual abuse, appear to cease around age 49. This narrow age framework can be explained by focusing on women who are of reproductive age.
Many people believe that women are disproportionately affected by ageism and sexism at this point in middle age. According to studies, women today aspire to meet aesthetic standards because they understand the link between social status and beauty. In her book Face It: What Women Really Feel as Their Looks Change and What to Do About It, Dr. Vivian Diller describes how “most women agree, reporting that good looks continue to be associated with respect, legitimacy, and power in their relationships.” Women are pushed to prioritize attractiveness over their work and abilities in the workplace due to hiring, assessments, and promotions based on physical appearance.
Is It Harder for Older Workers to Find Jobs? is a recent study. Because “age detracts more from physical appearance for women than for men,” according to experts from the National Bureau of Economic Research, “physical appearance matters more for women.” But is our outside look truly more important?
Last month, I did what I always do when I see something like this: I sat and watched the Emmys. I compare my aging process to that of the women in attendance who are my age. How did I measure up? As I sat there, I was reminded of a phrase by Iyanla Vanzant, even if it scarcely seems fair that Nicole Kidman and Cindy Crawford are involved. “An act of violence against oneself is comparison.” The irony is not lost on me as someone who advocates against violence. I must be the first to do the work I do. So it will.