What They Assume You’ve Stopped Being

On ageism, older women, and the words we deserve to say out loud

A friend of mine called me the other day with what I would refer to as an appalling story for any unpartnered woman over a certain age.

My friend is 70 and has been divorced for quite some time. She went for her annual exam earlier that day and had an uncomfortable encounter with her MD (also a female), and she couldn’t wait to tell me about it.

Inside the exam room, the intake was proceeding normally until the doctor looked up from her clipboard, peered over her glasses, and said:

“No new partners, I assume?”

Five words delivered with the confidence of someone who was certain she already knew the answer.

My friend was so startled she said nothing, only shaking her head “no.” She answered the rest of the questions, got dressed, drove home, and then spent the better part of the afternoon furious (that’s when she called me!). Her anger wasn’t as much about the question as about the assumption baked into it. The “I assume.” The fact that it wasn’t really a question at all.

That assumption has a name. It’s called ageism. And it shows up in doctors’ offices, in family conversations, in the way a room sometimes goes quiet when an older woman starts to speak. It shows up, most insidiously, in the things people decide not to ask because they’ve already decided they know the answers.

There is an invisible inventory, or list, that society keeps of the things older women are presumed to have stopped doing, and it is rarely stated directly. It lives instead in the tone of a question, a raised eyebrow, or the way a sentence ends before it should.

There are many topics on “the list,” such as: Stopped being sexually curious. Stopped wanting new experiences. Stopped having a story that might surprise you. Stopped needing to be asked. Stopped, in some fundamental way, from being a full person in the room. (This harkens back to my earlier post about the word “still” and its damaging effects.)

“I assume” does not invite an answer. It signals that the expected answer is already known and that deviating from it would be somewhat surprising.

But the exam room is really just a microcosm. The assumption that older women have stepped back from the full-contact business of living shows up everywhere. In the way adult children sometimes speak to aging parents. In the way companies design products and services. In what gets left off a menu of options because someone decided it wouldn’t be relevant.

Ageism is not always loud. More often, it is the subtle erasure of possibility. The presumption of the diminished life.

(My guess is that some of the women reading this article will have yet another reaction to what occurred with my friend, and I’ve toyed with the idea of not going down this road, but that’s what I’m here for: to take a stand. And my stand is, does anyone think that this same question, “No new partners, I assume?” would have been asked of a man during his exam?

While I don’t know, I think not. In my mind, I am visualizing a male doctor with a healthy male patient, giving him a little wink and saying, “Sooooo, how’s that sex life going?” with a big grin on his face. This, my friends, is an example of sexism that persists today.)

When it comes to ageism, we have to start changing the conversation. So what are some appropriate responses when assumptions about us are being made?

Here are a few:

“I’d prefer you ask me rather than assume.”

“Actually, let’s not assume.”

“I’d rather answer the question than the assumption.”

These responses return the conversation to honest ground and insist that we are treated as someone whose life is still fully in progress.

Ageism costs a lot more than the obvious indignity. It provides society with inaccurate information, thereby preventing genuine conversation. Let’s not stay silent in those awkward moments; let’s inform and educate instead.