The old saying that a lady never reveals her age still lingers in our cultural memory. It suggests women should remain mysterious: Are they 22 or 40? The idea being a lady should always keep you guessing. While that notion has fallen out of common use, the sentiment behind it quietly persists.
As a reporter, asking someone their age often presents an unexpected challenge. Men generally take it in stride—sometimes with a joke, sometimes with playful forgetfulness. Women, however, are more likely to resist. Some respond with discomfort or outright refusal, as if being asked feels intrusive or offensive.
Others deflect with humor or vague answers like “I’m too old” or “I’m on the wrong side of 40,” as if life’s value ends at a certain age. But why should years be a taboo?
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A reflection from the podcast Sounds Like a Cult captured this perfectly: in the 2000s, women fought to be accepted as real, three-dimensional selves beyond unrealistic thinness standards. Now, in the 2020s, women continue to challenge cultural expectations—this time fighting to be embraced fully as they move through time, wrinkles and all.
In journalism, age often matters. If a 19-year-old skateboarder lands a world record trick on a volcano, or a 94-year-old achieves the same feat, the story’s context shifts dramatically. Age frames how we interpret achievements and struggles, making it a crucial detail, not a secret to hide.
Surprisingly, even some accomplished public figures hesitate to share their age, perhaps due to the persistent stigma around aging, especially for women. It evokes dystopian fears like those in the 1976 film Logan’s Run, where people were culled at 30—a chilling notion that now seems less like science fiction and more like a metaphor for our ageist culture.
The ‘Manosphere’ and its concept of “The Wall” exacerbate this, suggesting women become worthless after 25. This misogynistic idea pushes harmful narratives that pressure women to cling to youth and reject the natural process of growing older.
But aging is not a curse; it’s an accumulation of experience, wisdom, and life lived fully. Each birthday should be celebrated as leveling up—not fading away.
Confession: I’m 27. And yes, my photos are often airbrushed to hide my laugh lines and frown lines—marks of life’s joys and challenges. These lines tell stories of laughter, friendship, contemplation, and resilience. Yet, like many, I wrestle with the idea that youth is fleeting.
A simple question like “How old are you?” can feel loaded. Perhaps it can be rude, but it shouldn’t be. After all, life is finite, and every year matters. We deserve to embrace the full spectrum of who we are—no matter our age.