Seen

The moment I realized I had confused attention with visibility.

Recently, while walking to dinner with a friend, she mentioned to me that she feels invisible “at this age.” I have to confess that at times I also felt that way. But she is cute, tiny, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, physically fit, with perky boobs and a European accent. How can she feel unseen? In that moment, I justified my feelings that way because menopause has taken over my body.

She then went on to tell me that she even wears pheromones and still nothing. We reminisced about our earlier days when men would fall over us and all the attention we received, and how now it is almost impossible to be seen.

I realized I had done exactly what society conditioned me to do. I took inventory of her physical attributes and mapped them to visibility. I minimized her brilliance. Not only does she speak six different languages, but she also has a brilliant mind, deep compassion, and a passion for culture. Yet I reduced her to her looks; I, too, didn’t see her in that moment.

Later that week, we went out for a girls’ night out dancing. The event was called “Day Shift” because it ran from 5 p.m. to 9 p.m. The music reminded me of my younger days of clubbing, dancing all night, then hitting the diner and heading home around sunrise. Only in this version, you’re home around 11 p.m., the exact time I would have been heading out back out then. Boy, times have changed.

The crowd was mostly women, with a mix of straight and same-sex couples. Honestly, I never felt safer being myself and expressing myself without caring who might be looking at me. For my friend, I saw a hunter. I recognized it because I used to have that same look myself years ago. Every time I went out when I was younger was a quest to seek male attention to feel seen and worthy. It was all about how I looked on the outside. Yet not one of those experiences ever made me feel seen for who I am, for my brilliance, my compassion, and my love of life.

How could I see my friend when my entire life, I didn’t even value myself beyond my own physical attributes?

As women, we have so much social pressure to look younger. We dye our hair, deprive ourselves of foods we enjoy in the name of staying sexy, and pump chemicals into our bodies to keep wrinkles and fine lines at bay. These are just a few examples of how we are conditioned to hold onto our youth so we can remain relevant in society.

Now, don’t get me wrong. If you do any of those things for your own personal happiness, great for you, but have you ever stopped to be curious about why you want to?

I decided I no longer wanted to be a slave to hair coloring. I have been white-haired since the age of 18, and every three weeks I would have to dye my hair because the contrast between my white roots and deep brown hair would stand out, and I would feel so self-conscious. Between the chemicals, the expense, and the time, for what? I was told that when I stopped coloring my hair, I would be committing career suicide, that as a professional speaker, I would not get hired if I let my hair go gray. I was told by close friends that I would age myself by ten years, but where did we even get that idea to begin with?

I no longer buy into the societal belief that, to stay relevant, I must cling to something I no longer am. I am tired of being told that this version of me is not good enough. All that energy spent trying to hold on to something that was never meant to be held onto in the first place is exhausting. Aging is a natural part of life, and when we make it wrong, we spend our precious energy trying to fix something that was never broken in the first place. It is how we were created. When will women be appreciated for what they contribute rather than how they look?

After I came home that night, I reflected on my conversation with my friend and found peace. I am not here to be something that I am not. I have nothing to prove to anyone, including myself. My life has been filled with learning opportunities and growth, and honoring myself exactly where I am in this moment is the greatest gift I can give myself.

I am no longer looking for validation outside myself, especially in the form of male attention. I am okay with being invisible because I know that the right people, who are aligned with me, will see me exactly as I am.