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I vividly remember the day I knew I was invisible. I know what day of the week it was, where I was, and even what I was wearing. It is one of those “9/11” or “Day JFK Died” memories.
It was a Monday morning at my favorite Starbucks and I was wearing blue jeans. I walked into Starbucks, no one acknowledged me, no one looked at me, except for the friendly people who worked there.
You see I had often walked into this Starbucks on Monday mornings, wearing a business suit, for a meeting with folks who wanted to promote their agenda to a woman who headed up one of the city’s largest communications/marketing departments. Also, many times I had walked into this Starbucks on a Saturday, wearing blue jeans to meet friends, and I had noticed the glances my size 6, hour-glass figure drew.
That Monday, I walked into Starbucks not in my official VP role, I had the day off, and yes, I was wearing my size 6 blue jeans; but, I am not sure where the hour-glass went. A valued time piece might have better described my figure.
For a number of years now, no one has recognized me in Starbuck’s as Heidi, Robyn or Justin’s mother or the wife of X. (My former husband’s friends I have never seen drinking at Starbucks.) I was in my late 50s. To the group of customers in Starbucks that day, I was just another older woman meeting friends for a great cup of Joe. Certainly, no one to smile at or impress.
But, it was a landmark day. I realized that Monday I had lost my professional, sexual, maternal and marital status in the eyes of most of our society. I was just another invisible older woman not of any value except, perhaps, to the medical, pharmaceutical and assisted-living sectors of our US economy.
Several years later, I read Marti Barletta’s 2007 business best seller, “PrimeTime Women, How to Win the Hearts, Minds and Business of Boomer Big Spenders,” and with startling clarity I knew what happened to me that day at Starbucks. Although I was part of America’s richest, most brilliant and affluent group, women, age 57 plus, advertisers, politicians and the general public ignore us because we are older women.
Back in the 1960s, when I was one of a handful of women at the University of Colorado’s School of Business, advertisers started tracking the spending habits and consumer goods sales of women up to age 56, believing that women 57+ were not worth marketing to except for old lady shoes and prescription drugs. Consequently, older women rarely appeared on television shows, in the movies or newspapers. Unbelievably, they still have not gotten the message that we are very active, have lots of bucks, and buy a ton of goods and services.( We are still rarely shown in newspapers, magazines, television or the Internet.) Our wealth has come from several sources: we have inherited it from parents or spouses, or — heavens! — we earned it in a very male dominated world. Further, I learned from Barletta’s book, how we, women-of- a-certain- age, live and spend money are very different than our male counterparts. She called us PrimeTime women. I call us Boomer Babes. Look out world!!
The purpose of this blog is to bring awareness to our group, provide support and information to women of a certain age, and maybe just get out my own frustrations. For now I plan on writing about these topics: Medical concerns, downsizing, myths and powers of crones, dealing with adult children, dealing with parents and other elderly relatives or friends, fashion, aging and depression, benefits of massage and what to look for in a masseuse, legal considerations, beneficial medicinal and culinary herbs, and the popularity of many metaphysical topics, such as astrology and past lives.
I hope this blog, which will be posted every two weeks, will inspire you to comment by writing your thoughts and opinions, and stating topics of interest to you. At times, I will send out calls to action because I have experienced the effectiveness of grassroots efforts. From time-to-time, I will share with you humorous stories and cartoons others have sent me. But, most of all, I hope to be a conduit to what’s important to Ladies-of-a-Certain Age.
We’ve Come A Long Way — Baby!
Elizabeth
7 Comments
February 14, 2013 at 5:18 pm
“The Day I Knew I Had Become Invisible” was when I began looking for employment to subsidize my own business.
Who hires someone over 50?
February 14, 2013 at 8:31 pm
Have you read “Calling Invisible Women” by Jeanne Ray?? Great book….
February 15, 2013 at 7:58 pm
Although this seems to happen to a greater extent to women, it happens to men, too. I know at gatherings people used to focus on my husband when he talked; he now is often ignored in a group. And I recall when my father was very old, clerks in stores would talk to me, not to him.
I wonder if we tend to reciprocate to younger people? If a teen or young adult tries to join in, do we ignore him?
Congratulations on your blog, Elizabeth!
March 18, 2013 at 5:43 pm
I knew I was invisible when I became no longer a critical invitee to cocktail hour, walks, events, and executive meetings.
I was to do the work, but my ideas were not needed. I was invisible at work and at play. Promotions stopped coming.
However, I am not invisible to my dog. He cannot take is eyes off me and longs to be a part of everything I do. He nener fails to notice my coming in and my going out. He loves to ride with me and walk with me. And, I have learned this is essential to my well being.
March 23, 2013 at 7:59 am
JoAnn, I laughed at your comment about not being invisible to your dog, probably because I’m very visible to my dogs, one that I’ve had for about 10 years, and the other for just a little over 2 months. They’re a very important part of my life.
March 23, 2013 at 8:09 am
Elizabeth, a great introduction to your blog. I look forward to reading your various topics.
Because my dog, Katie, and I are a pet therapy team and visit patients and staff at a hospital, as well as children at a residential treatment center, I don’t feel totally invisible. I had planned that when I retired, being a pet therapy team would be my mission and give me fulfillment in life. Thank goodness I have that, because when I look in the mirror and see my sagging arm muscles, I might get very depressed.
March 25, 2013 at 5:51 pm
Wow. Nailed this on the head. My moment (or moments of realization) was in Italy in my mid 50’s. Felt invisible. I have been watching a CSI type series, Waking the Dead, from the UK lately. One of the two key leads is a woman of a certain age. I prefer the British programs as they use actors who are not drenched in lip gloss and hair extensions or visible signs of facial “work”.