Invisible or not?
What happens when the world isn’t meeting you on the outside?
Can you meet yourself on the inside instead?
Could this subtle change in direction, change what’s there to be seen?
After reading a number of pieces and listening to discussion in recent weeks on the invisible factor for mature women, I wanted to explore this topic in today’s post. There are so many layers to it and it’s a topic I will probably come back to in various forms, but here’s a start.
Earlier this week a young man served me in a shop. By young, I mean maybe a decade or so younger than me. Not only did he serve me but he engaged with me. He enquired into my life and when I told him I was on the way to my clay class, he asked if I had any photos of my pieces. We chatted for at least 10 minutes and when I sat down nearby afterwards I noted that he didn’t interact with any of the other customers who came after me, including two twenty-something smooth-skinned, well-dressed brunette women.
It wasn’t a great day for me. I’d had a sleepless night and tear stains were still embedded in the thin skin under my eyes. I felt vulnerable and exposed.
According to popular opinion, the combination of my age and my pale and tired face would’ve made me doubly invisible. On the contrary, it did the opposite.
I asked myself why and it came down to this simple fact. I was wide open and he could feel it.
He could feel me.
My heart was a little tender, but not closed. My face was drawn, but soft. My body was a little shaky, but not guarded.
This my lovely lady friends is the bursting spring of visibility that we’re never told about.
Our life-force energy seeping out of us, even if it’s in the form of sadness, fear or anger.
It’s a sign of someone living within the layers of skin. A personality. A pulse. A feeling being. A dynamic soul.
It’s our aliveness that is captivating, no matter the age.
The real question to ask is who is looking for it.
You see not all men or women search this out or even notice it. Many are caught in a surface level facade.
And this is where I believe the invisibility dilemma sits.
So I pondered this. When do I feel most ‘invisible’?
The list was interesting…
When I’m caught in my thoughts or the narratives of my mind.
When I’m focused on the external world around me.
When I compare myself to others or what I looked like in the past.
When I see too many advertisements.
When I walk down the street seeking someone to acknowledge me.
When I leave my house thinking I’m having a bad day and wait for it to be mirrored back to me.
When I focus on a person outside of me, versus the energy circulating within me.
But, when I’m tapped into the cells of my body, whether it be simply breathing, moving, eating a meal or dancing around my room, I don’t know what age I am. When my eyes are closed, I’m any age and every age.
On my FB community noticeboard the other week there was a woman pleading to find out the name of a 77 year old women she’d met in a doctor’s surgery recently. Her description was: a radiating, knowing, divine woman she couldn’t wait to speak with again. Wow, I thought. I want to meet her too.
As we age, a lot of women become bitter because of the ageism debate and this shows on faces. Or we resist the wrinkles and sagging and this shows up in other ways. I started to read a book about ageing the other day and it was angry. Not the sort of anger that builds up from a burning fire within, but an angry projection at the world around us.
The change happens right here in us with how we define invisibility and visibility.
If visibility is only about wrinkle-free skin, lush silky hair, plump breasts, firm bottom and thighs and estrogen-boosted hour glass figures then we may be in trouble as we age.
If visibility is about a light burning within that radiates in a halo fashion we will probably be ok.
Yes, I’m ‘invisible’ in some places where I used to be more visible. Mainly superficial places. I don’t get cat-called or wolf-whistled on the street. I may not be the first woman noticed on the beach. I don’t get as many smiles as I once did when going about every day life (Although, ironically, I sometimes do too, but that’s another post.)
But I’m visible in places where there is depth. Where there is conversation. Where there is an opportunity to see what comes beneath the skin, but also exudes from the skin, in just a different fashion than before.
And, ultimately, isn’t that what we are fighting for as women.
To be seen in our fullness.
So perhaps in our later years we get what we’ve always been asking for, just packaged in a wrapping we didn’t expect.
I remember many years ago complaining to a friend that I got slapped on the bottom in a bar. She moaned and said she wished she got hit up more often.
I realised then how complex this female ‘currency’ thing had got. How messy and muddled visibility was. It’s not something I claim to have all the answers too, but I like the conversation and I will finish with the same questions I started with…
What happens when the world isn’t meeting you on the outside?
Can you meet yourself on the inside instead?
Could this subtle change in direction, change what’s there to be seen?
If you feel like sharing, I’d love to hear your thoughts, feelings and experiences around visibility and invisibility. You need to subscribe in order to comment, but it’s free and I’d love to have you in the community.
