Mariah Burton Nelson: Article

MARIAH BURTON NELSON
An Athletic Approach to Leadership and Life

Can We Talk About "Old"?
© Mariah Burton Nelson

Most women do not consider it a compliment when told, "You're one of the guys." Most African-Americans do not appreciate hearing, "You don't look black." Yet we still praise each other in these ways: "You don't look your age." "You don't act your age." "You're young at heart." And even, "You look pretty good, considering your age."

When we use the word young to convey all that is attractive and positive, and use the word old to connote unattractive, negative, boring, stubborn, slow, or behind the times, we're perpetuating stereotypes that hurt all of us.

Naturally, we want to compliment people who are aging gracefully. But who decided that "looking old" is a bad thing? Why are we spending millions on "anti-aging" treatments? When we believe that there's something shameful about being old, where does that leave 90-year-olds? Are they failures because they went ahead and got old? Surely we can do better than that.

As a society, we have redefined many words, including "girl," "woman," "colored," "black," and "African-American." Language shapes public opinion. Isn't it time we redefine "old" too?

What "Old People" Means
Harriet, 57, the owner of an event planning company in Washington, D.C., reports, "My sister got married recently, and I had to leave a day early, because everyone there was old. The whole weekend, all the rooms were full of old people. It was stifling."

When asked what she means by "old people," she says, "They had no life force. They were the living dead. I have to avoid those people because they suck the vitality out of me."

Not everyone is so blatant. But many of us talk about old people in inaccurate, disrespectful, and discriminatory ways. We even use "old" pejoratively when talking about young people. Recently I heard a radio commentator say, "He sounded like a grouchy old person." I wonder how old people feel, hearing that? Such comments probably make some of them feel downright grouchy!

Of course, some old people are grouchy. The older you get, the more likely you are to suffer from health problems, mobility challenges, and the deaths of loved ones – any of which increases your grouchiness odds. But not all old people are grouchy. And many young people are grouchy, too.

"Staying Young"
When we're not maligning "old people," we're claiming to be perpetually young ourselves. The oldest American in the 2004 Olympics was Elizabeth Callahan, 52, a rifle shooter. "I've never related my accomplishments to my age," she says. "If you stay active it will keep you young for many years."

I get her point but she's not young, and she's not correct. If you stay active it will not keep you young. If you stay active, you'll be more likely to feel energetic, healthy, and physically fit. These things are associated with youth, but they are available to many people throughout their life spans. Callahan is not an example of "staying young." She's an example of the fact that 52-year-olds can be successful athletes. Like tennis player Martina Navratilova, baseball pitcher Randy Johnson, and thousands of Senior Olympians, Callahan offers us an inspiring example of late-life athletic accomplishments that most of us did not know were possible when we were growing up.

And what if you don't stay active? What if you lie abed and dine on chocolate doughnuts: aren't you more likely to feel sluggish and stiff? In other words, aren't you more likely to feel old?

You might say that. But let's not. "Feel old" loses meaning when you realize that some old people feel great and others feel horrible -- and that the same is true for young people. "Feel terrible," "feel sick," or "feel sore and cranky" would be more accurate.

Young Ladies or Old Maids
So what do we want to be called? Depends on who we are and what we're doing. When I approached the counter at a golf course last week, the cashier asked me, "Have you young ladies been helped?"

My three friends and I ranged in age from 48 to 67. The cashier was about 40. Compared to him, we were not young. I've never cared for the term "ladies" either, with its connotations of white gloves, parasols and docility. I objected.

"Gee, I don't think "young ladies" is accurate," I said, smiling to convey that I'm okay with my age, and don't need the phony compliment.

"Well, you wouldn't want me to call you old maids, would you?" he retorted.

Wow. Were those his only choices: young ladies or old maids? How about "golfers"?

Studies show that people over fifty cannot agree on a term that reflects their current status. "Older" and "elderly" are not very popular. Only thirty percent favor "senior" or "senior citizen." Naturally, no one's crazy about "old folks," "old bags," "old hags," "old biddies," "old birds," "old fogies," "old fangled," "old fashioned," "old and decrepit," "over the hill," "blue hairs," "golden oldies," "vulnerable," "frail," "declining," "dowdy," "doddering," "fuddy duddies," "greedy geezers," "out of touch," "not getting any younger," and "responsible for a mountain of debt that will become an intolerable burden on society."

No wonder no one wants to become old.

Maybe the reason we can't agree on a term is that we don't want to be defined by age. Nor do younger people. To "define" can mean "to limit," and no one wants to be limited. We don't want to be limited by our age any more than we want to be limited by our gender, skin color, religion, or sexual orientation.

Passing as Young
To avoid being defined and limited, and to avoid joining that unpopular club called Old Age, we tend to deny that we're old -- or even in the Middle Ages. Through our behavior, appearance, and language, we try to pass as young. This may help individuals feel more accepted and appreciated – since "young" has a higher perceived value than "old" – but it doesn’t really help our cause.

At various times in history, Jews have passed as Gentiles and black people have passed as white. There was a good reason for this: survival. The desire of middle-aged and old people to pass as young (or younger) may feel like a matter of survival now. But trying to pass has never succeeded as a long-term strategy. Jews and African-Americans cannot develop personal pride or political power while pretending to be other than they are. Nor can people over 50.

As long as we insinuate with our language that there's something wrong with being old, people will continue to discriminate against the obviously old: people in their eighties, nineties, or beyond. Pretense also has personal repercussions: It's brutal on self-esteem. When you pretend to be someone you're not, you inevitably feel bad about who you are. Secrecy always leads to shame.

Therefore: If you are 50-plus, I call on you to "come out" as old. From Martin Luther King to Gloria Steinem to Ellen DeGeneres, social change leaders have urged us to eradicate internalized shame (the sense that there must be something wrong with us) by claiming words that have been used against us. We have adopted the words "black" and "woman" and "lesbian" and "gay."

Some of these words sounded odd at first. The words black and African-American sounded odd, as opposed to Negro or colored. The word woman sounded odd, as opposed to lady or girl. The words lesbian and gay still sound odd, even shameful and accusatory, in some circles. Social change takes time.

But gradually, language influences beliefs and identity. What if we became, instead of anti-aging, pro-aging? What if we stopped bemoaning the fact that we are "getting old" and instead talked honestly about our physical and social condition and how we might maximize our potential? What if we stopped protesting that we are "not old" and instead redefined what "old" means?

In a sense, the term "old" always means "older," since there is no agreed-upon age at which one becomes definitively old. During the "Don't trust anyone over thirty" hippie era, thirty was old. To a 30-year-old woman today, 65 might seem old. But when the 30-year-old turns 65, she will not necessarily feel old, especially when she compares herself to her 90-year-old father. On the other hand, even teenagers can seem old – when viewed through the eyes of a toddler.

So "old" is a relative term, meaningful only when describing one person in relation to others. "I feel old" makes sense if you're comparing yourself to how you felt years ago, or to younger people in your midst – but not if you're having trouble getting out of a theatre seat. That would be "creaky," "arthritic," or otherwise indisposed – not old.

Growing Old
Surprisingly, the word old comes from the Latin alere (to nourish,) alescere (to grow) and altus (high or deep.) How liberating to think of the term "grow old" in this context! The aging process really could be a time of deep growth and nourishment.

Seems to me that most people don't start admitting their age until about 80. Sometimes they say it with pride ("I'm 80!"); sometimes as an explanation for fatigue or physical limitation ("well, I am 80, you know"): and sometimes a rationale for opting out ("I'll skip the picnic. I'm 80.")

Must we wait that long? What if we announced our age with pride all along? What if a 52-year-old Olympian said, "Old is cool"?

You might feel ageless or young. Fine. You might fear ageist reactions if you embraced an "old" identity. Understandable. But, as with other targeted groups, society's not going to stop discriminating against us until we "old" people stand up and speak out.

Try this: Stop using the word old in a negative context. Look for positive or neutral ways to talk about old age. Tell people how old you are. If all of us find the courage to truly be ourselves, we can counteract hurtful stereotypes and define for ourselves what it means to grow old.

Mariah Burton Nelson, author of the forthcoming Aging Up! Be Bolder. Grow Older. Get Real., is "about 50." Actually she's 48, but she likes to round up.