The Feminine Fear of Aging
In a culture where losing youth is regarded as losing value.
On one of the first few occasions I visited a makeup store, I was earnestly recommended that I start a skincare routine that included “early prevention” — and it certainly was early, as I was only 14 years old, and my age could not have been more obvious.
I watched incredulously as the woman placed, alongside a pack of acne patches and a fruit-flavored chapstick, a plethora of anti-aging creams and serums in front of me to pick from. I don’t remember what I ended up choosing, but I do remember leaving with an unnerving sense of the value of my youth — something that I was not consciously aware of before.
In a modern culture that values productivity to an unhealthy extent, the ideal woman is an engineered concept that is pursued by many but has no truly reachable end. Women must be at their top performance at all times, lest we become “past our prime” or considered to have “peaked.” With all of the emphasis held on our looks, we hold the responsibility of “aging gracefully,” which usually connotes not looking like we are aging at all.
It is one thing to fear losing certain abilities and experience declining physical function. But it is wholly another issue that women, as young as late teens and early 20s, feel the need to begin rigorous routines to prevent something so natural.
As Jia Tolentino notes in her essay Always be Optimizing, “These days, it is perhaps even more psychologically seamless than ever for an ordinary woman to spend her life walking toward the idealized mirage of her self-image.” The media constantly bombards us with imagery that tells us what looks good and who has value, and it is instilled in women to take advantage of any possible product that will keep them suspended in a preserved state. Get a couple of shots of early-prevention botox; avoid any and all exposure to the sun; hell, consume collagen gummies with religious zeal.
Our fixation on looking youthful is not only a denial of womanhood but a denial of women’s humanity — the right to embrace the natural development process. I’ve seen women fervently avoid making any strong expressions for fear of developing wrinkles — raising your eyebrows causes forehead lines, squinting your eyes lead to crows’ feet, and excessive laughing results in smile lines. Is it ironic that this is another symptom of the same societal illness, that emotions are restrained for the sake of others’ viewing pleasure?
As Simone de Beauvoir noted in “The Coming of Age,” “…old age is not to be an absurd parody of our former life.” Wrinkles are an indication that one has lived. Gray hairs and sunspots are features that people accumulate by virtue of living. Our older counterparts are just as much us as every other version of ourselves. The very essence of human development necessitates constant flux, and we will continue to be disappointed if we attempt to stick to unrealistic, rigid notions of beauty. We must recognize and reject the absurdity of seeing what is natural as aberrant.
Yet, while incredibly important, individual change in thought is not enough. Every consumer industry knows that the most effective way to stay profitable is to keep people unsatisfied and yearning for something more, and the beauty industry is no different. Mass media facilitates these insecurities by not straying from arbitrary standards and wrongfully insisting that what is normal is unhealthy or aberrant.
Collective change is contingent on a cultural shift in expectation: a wholehearted embrace of womanhood from its beginning to end. Let us contemplate, “How can I age gracefully if I’m scared to age at all?”
