by Elizabeth Rangel
I was nervous about the visit to the senior center because in my head I had imagined the seniors at the center with full white heads hunched over their walkers, but instead a lot of the women there seemed to resemble my mother. My mother is in her mid-fifties, she’s only 6 years away from being considered eligible for social security benefits for seniors. As a matter of fact, the ladies that were waiting at the table where I took seat made it a point to tell my partner and I that they didn’t necessarily consider themselves seniors either. To them, seniors are those in their early eighties and no longer able to take care of themselves, someone dependent on another.
Not only was I surprised by the age group that we consider seniors to be, I was surprised to see old women of color. Usually, when I think about seniors I think of old ashy white people but rarely if ever do I immediately think of an older person of color. I do not know if I should attribute to this to the lack of representation for seniors of color in the media or if I factually see less seniors of color due to the great disparity of medical resources available to them. Furthermore, I was surprised by their seemingly careless attitude to my gender presentation. Perhaps I was expecting to be gawked at momentarily, as I am when I am in the women’s restroom, because of my brief interaction with the older members of my extended family. Regardless, they seemed to have no interest in trying to spot the more “feminine” features of my physique, and that very reassuring. I was able to relax around them.
What topics did you discuss with the seniors? We conversed briefly about Tony Bambara’s “My Man Bovane” and shared our thoughts on female sexuality and how it is shaped by age. Something that really stuck out for me from that conversation was how we as children perpetually assign our parents a box wherein they can no longer “progress.” This is to say that we have a certain image of our parents and sometimes, according to the women at the center, it can be difficult for both them and their children to maneuver under the new roles families members take on with age. I thought this explained what transpired in the story perfectly. Ms. Hazel’s children were uncomfortable at seeing their mother dancing with a man because it shines their mother in a new light outside of her caretaker role (but not entirely as she is to an extent caring for Mr. Bovane).
The women at my table were very open to discussing sex and the norms within that domain, which came to me as yet another surprise, because my mother and the other women in my family aren’t very keen on discussing such a topic. They empathized with Ms. Hazel greatly, and shared their thoughts on how unfortunate Ms. Hazel’s children’s behaviors was. They thought it unfortunate for there to be such shame about a topic so natural such as intimacy and sex, and repeated their previous statements about feeling trapped in their children’s memories and expectations.
Overall, it was a lovely discussion. Though we were sidetracked by our many thoughts I would say it was all very productive and informative as their thoughts an experiences provided insight into the narrative for myself as mine did theirs.
Coming to Age 