If you were born, like me, in 1955 you will be 58 this year.
April10th was not a day I wanted to celebrate, being 58 means many things and very few of them are positive.
Agism is alive and well and having had a lifetime of enduring sexism, I find agism to be an equally insidious, nasty ism.
I hear voices of younger people, loaded with the tone of contempt.
There is often an air of superiority and impudence in the interactions between the young and the older; an attitude, an implied, unspoken assumption that to be young is so much more worthy, valid or important.
To be old is to be, in some way, less.
With each passing year, our credibility and power diminishes like a guttering candle.
We are to be pitied and despised.
Some younger people love us.
Some even care.
Some are empathetic.
Some are sympathetic.
Those who are close to us often look out for us and care for us deeply and love the memory of us.
I sense the concerns of my own children becoming more acute, more apparent.
Do I need this level of concern?
Do I need someone to tell my I am causing them worry?
Do I want to be held responsible for someone else's anxiety jsut because I'm growing older.
No.
What do I want of growing older?
I want autonomy. I want to be in control of my own destiny and free to make my own decisions.
I want to be respected.
I want to be valued and given credibility.
I want to be heard and seen.
I want to be given status.
I want these things to be right of all the older generation.
If you were born in 1955, or somewhere near there - let you voice be heard.
Let your wisdom - if you've gained any during your lifetime - shine through.
Be a light for others.
Be an example.
Show others who aren't as old as you that you are worthy, demand respect and acknowledgement, maintain your power in whatever capacity it exists and use it for good.
Be a hero.
Be a legend.
Show the younger generations that being older is worthy of merit - earn that merit with dignity and responsibility.
Wear your age like a crown.
Cheers
entitled
