Freedom: Thoughts on Middle Aged Women and Invisibility

“She had the oddest sense of being herself invisible; unseen; unknown; there being no more marrying, no more having of children now, but only this astonishing and rather solemn progress with the rest of them, up Bond Street, this being Mrs. Dalloway…”

-Virginia Woolf

“Aging is not ‘lost youth’ but a new stage of opportunity and strength.”

– Betty Friedan

"I think for a woman, the hardest thing about growing old is becoming invisible.”

-Amy Grant

"Aging is an extraordinary process whereby you become the person you always should have been." 

-David Bowie

Invisibility I say when my son asks

what superhero power I would choose.

I wasn’t much older than he is when I set

my goal to be a disembodied spirit. 

Think I’ll have that one day because I’m lucky…

-from my poem in Escape Velocity, When Screens Replace Touch

“And then, not expecting it, you become middle-aged and anonymous. No one notices you. You achieve a wonderful freedom. It is a positive thing. You can move about unnoticed and invisible.” 

-Doris Lessing

Much is made about middle aged women feeling invisible, apparently generally considered a bad thing. In researching quotes for this post, I found many articles that seemed to tie women’s value to appearance and attention from men. These factors are not meaningless in our culture. But I’m heartened to see more women than public media might lead one to believe, who embrace the phenomenon of aging women growing relatively invisible as liberating. I am with them.

I went to high school in Daytona Beach, Florida. I used to love going out dancing, driving to the club, Spectrum or 701 South, and I’ve always gone in phases with bike riding. But one thing I hated was walking. Walking alone down A1A in Daytona would consistently incur unwanted attention. I experienced the same when I moved to Tuscon, AZ in my mid-20’s. Those years I could barely afford gas. I got a beautiful multi-sherbert-colored bike that I often rode; it saved me from hollers and cat calls, until I walked. I just wanted to be invisible.

Some people would say I would miss such attention when older. I have never missed it. Not for one moment.

My falling in love with D.C. likely arose in part from easy walks through many of its neighborhoods. Some were less safe towards the end of the last millennium, but I rarely felt harassed in that objectifying way. And people watching was a pleasure — busy sidewalks filled with diverse gaits, cultures, dress, mannerisms.

When young, police pulled me over frequently. In Tucson, they even pulled me over once on my bike. It is true that the law required bikes to have headlights and I had none. Still, it felt extreme and unsettling that the cop car followed me as I walked my bike home. After Tucson, I lived in Austin, TX. There police so frequently pulled me over in my car that I entirely gave up driving and exclusively rode my bike. I could not understand it. Now I think, it might have been the ‘78 T-Bird with Florida plates; a questionable vibe perhaps. But that wouldn’t explain why, once I moved to Maryland a couple of years later, I’d be pulled over in a Buick with Maryland tags several times for no discernable reason. I was not invisible, for sure. 

For years, I got anxious when passing or driving in front of cop cars. I’m fine with it now. I’ve rarely been pulled over in the past ten years; a relief. 

When young, I felt uncomfortable with the attention of male strangers. In retrospect, I still only see those perceptions as understandable and valid and am grateful to be able to move through space more comfortably and freely for being older, even if less attractive in the eyes of society. 

Obviously, I’m not hiding to make myself invisible. I run two open mics, perform at others, play with a band, host a couple/few parties a year, record songs, publish poetry, and post this blog publicly for anyone to view. I’ve made shy, introverted friends annoyed with their perception that I’m wrong when I say I’m an introvert. (Disappointing when I value authenticity.) I guess I can see why some people might be bothered that my outspoken, putting-myself-out-there self lays some claim to space that they see as theirs, and in contrast to my energy. But they’re not right. I need a ton of solitude to shore myself up and settle myself down between my job and social spaces. And in the spaces between alone and focused attention, passing strangers or unfamiliar others, I’m grateful for anonymity and even being unseen.

Were my livelihood tied to a need for societal approval of youth and beauty, as indicated by stories of some screen actors being unable to find roles for older women, perhaps I’d feel differently. Although, us women are 50% of the population and rich with artistry. I like to think we get better at supporting each other and, as we do, attitudes based in misogyny and superficiality will matter less. Inshallah. 

Cheers to all you beautiful, mature women out there and to our men friends who see us as whole, vital, and worthy of respect.

Photo by Febe Vanermen on Unsplash