The invisible women 👵

There comes a time in every woman’s life when she begins to wonder if she has become invisible. Not literally, of course because I’m one of those women. I can still see myself in the mirror, although some mornings I wish I couldn’t.

This phenomenon doesn’t happen dramatically or instantaneously. There is no puff of smoke and no mysterious disappearance. No one makes a public announcement that says, ‘And now, ladies and gentlemen, for our next magic act, I give you the invisible woman!’

It’s a gradual process. First, the faces of elderly women become a bit blurred, then they turn hazy and then, hey presto, they vanish altogether!

I have walked into a shop with my husband and asked a young salesman a question. He has instantly turned to my husband with his reply. And the times when I’ve been standing at a counter patiently waiting to be served. A younger person strolls in and gets served before me. I try again, holding up my purchase, not wanting to cause any trouble but, nonetheless, feeling rather miffed! It’s as if I’m perceived to be part of the shop’s furnishings. Maybe that tasteless lamp next to me, or that opinionated coat stand behind me?

A friend of mine took her husband with her to see a consultant. The consultant greeted them both with a handshake and ushered them to the two chairs in front of his desk. My friend duly verified her name, date of birth and clarified her symptoms after the consultant had read the letter from her GP. All seemed fine until, after the initial interrogation, the consultant seemed to ignore her and only address her husband. Apparently this strange interaction between consultant and husband continued for a while until my friend had had enough.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ she said, ‘but I believe the woman you’re discussing is actually sitting right here. She’s in one of the chairs opposite you. She is the patient and the one with the symptoms and if we’re being technical, the one who saw the GP and made this appointment. Perhaps I should leave the room and let the two of you get on with my consultation?

‘I felt invisible, she told me. ‘I wasn’t even treated like a child, it was much worse!’ I brought my husband with me so that he could listen and take notes, an extra pair of ears, not my mouthpiece!

And then there is the mismatch in the fashion industry which seems to ignore the spending power of the ‘grey pound’ and have a rather unhealthy obsession with youth. Adverts show that fashion is all about the young, impossibly tall, impossibly thin women who live on a rice cake a day. These clothes just don’t work for the older women who get relegated to a corner, somewhere between ‘comfortable’ and ‘sensible’. We have reached the age where we know what suits us, still want to feel fabulous and wear fashionable clothes. We certainly don’t want to be twenty something again. We simply want to be acknowledged and catered for as important members of society instead of invisible pensioners in twinsets!

But maybe there are some advantages to being invisible. I enjoy sitting quietly in coffee shops and observing instead of being observed. I can live in a world without anyone expecting me to participate. I watch couples arguing in hushed tones, teenagers communicating entirely though their phones, and have even heard a man trying to convince his wife that the television that he’d just bought, which covered the entire wall of their sitting room, was a one off, unmissable bargain!

Perhaps this is how older journalists get their best stories?

There is a difference between choosing to be invisible and actually being treated as though you are! If I spot someone I don’t particularly want to speak to I improvise. Either my phone needs urgent attention or I develop a fascination for something or someone on the other side of the room. It’s a little performance I have perfected over the years. It’s a delicate art that starts with a casual glance, an expertly timed distraction and a swift retreat. For a few glorious seconds I become the master of my own invisibility. I perform my own disappearing act. No smoke, no mirrors, just perfect timing!

I’ve earned the choice not to see or speak to someone but I don’t want the world to make that decision for me! I don’t want people to look through me or assume I have nothing to contribute because I’ve had a few more birthday than they’ve had. I’ve lived too much, laughed too much and suffered too much to just fade away quietly into the background. I may occasionally choose to disappear, but I want that to be my decision, not the conclusion the world has reached on my behalf!

But something that I have noticed, is the art of ‘selective visibility’. Charity bucket collectors outside shops always make a beeline for me. When asked if I could volunteer for a good cause, organise a fundraising event or attend a meeting I become visible to the point of illumination! I’m retired so people automatically presume that I have vast quantities of time that needs to be filled. Those are times when I desperately try to make myself invisible but to no avail.

This is not meant to be a sexist blog but I really don’t feel that men, in general, suffer from the same problem. Perhaps it’s less about age and more about expectations society places on us. Curiously, a man growing older is still regarded as someone with knowledge, authority and experience. When men go grey they are told that they look distinguished. Women’s grey hair should be disguised and they’re perceived as being past their prime. Yet we’ve both accumulated the same thing, years of living, learning, surviving and a certain amount of wisdom.

I wrote this blog about how easy it is to make certain people in society feel discarded. I joke about being overlooked, ignored or spoken over by sections of our society, but behind the humour is sadness. Somehow, when women, and it is mainly women, grow older we are made to feel less important. We’ve served our useful purpose and now must be content to become an observer rather than a participant. But we do all want to be noticed, listened to and valued, no matter what our age.

Recent Age concern research supports this idea that older women experience ageism, including social invisibility and are being treated as less deserving than older men. Behind every ‘invisible’ woman is someone with a lifetime of stories and a heart full of memories who longs to be heard, still wants to be seen and know that she still matters! It’s not her failure to remain visible. It’s society’s failure to see her! 👠