Feminist Critical Interventions

The Center for Women's Studies (Zagreb) and Red Athena University Press (Ljubljana-Zagreb-Belgrade) released the long-awaited collection of essays that were presented at the REDacting Transyugoslav Feminisms: Women's Heritage Revisited conference in Zagreb in October 2011.

Feminist Critical Interventions: Thinking Heritage, Decolonizing, Crossings features essay from Rada Iveković, Renata Jambrešić Kirin, Svetlana Slapšak, Madina Tlostanova, Irina Novikova, Lada Čale Feldman, Katarina Lončarević, Elizabeta Šeleva, Suzana Milevska and Dubravka Crnojević-Carić. It also features my translation of the Feminism and the Left panel discussion with Jelena Petrović as the moderator and Vjollca Krasniqi, Jasmina Husanović, Lilijana Burcar, Vesna Leskošek and Nadežda Čačinović as panelists. The Croatian version of the book is entitled Feminističke kritičke intervencije: pogledi na naslijeđe, dekoloniziranje, prelaženja.

Both versions can be obtained from the Center for Women's Studies for 16,00 € per book.

Related posts:
Kaj je ostalo od feministične levice?
'Bez jednakosti nema slobode'

Čut za čas

Esej Čut za čas sem napisala za katalog solistične plesne predstave Maje Delak Kaj če. Izšel je ob premieri, 3. oktobra 2013, ki je v okviru festivala Mesto žensk potekala v Stari elektrarni v Ljubljani.

Angleško verzijo eseja lahko preberete tukaj, fotografije Nade Žgank s premiere pa so na voljo na Facebooku.

Tea Hvala

Čut za čas

»Navada je zaspalost ali vsaj pešanje čuta za čas, in če doživljamo mladostna leta počasi, poznejše življenje pa nam poteka in beži zmerom spešneje, mora biti tudi to posledica navade. Saj vemo, da je vrivanje spremenjenih in novih navad edino sredstvo, da si obdržimo življenje, da si poživimo čut za čas, da si zamoremo pomladiti, okrepiti, spočasniti svoje doživljanje časa in si s tem obnavljati življenjski čut sploh.« -- Thomas Mann

Mladi pogled

Ko sem prejela vabilo k pisanju o staranju, sem se začudila, kako to, ko pa … še nisem stara. Ne morem pisati o stvareh, ki jih ne poznam, sem godrnjala, nato pa vseeno segla po gerontološki literaturi in v reviji Kakovostna starost prebrala, da ljudje med 60-im in 87-im letom prav tako trdijo, da se ne počutijo stare.

Nič čudnega. Zaradi stereotipov, ki smo jih naprtili starosti, bi bilo istovetenje z njo naravnost samodestruktivno. V kulturi, ki časti mladost, je staranje lahko samo nekaj strašljivega ali pomilovanja vrednega. Predsodek trdi, da stari ljudje ne prispevajo k družbi, temveč so kvečjemu breme, da so v starosti duševne in telesne težave neizogibne ter da je življenje starejših osamljeno in aseksualno. Skratka, mladi pogled starejše od sebe dojema kot homogeno skupino, ki se radikalno razlikuje od »nas«. Tako kot druge vrste diskriminacije tudi starostna diskriminacija najbolje uspeva v svetu, razdeljenem na »nas« in »njih«.

Starosti je več. Lahko je biološka (»gube«), kronološka (»EMŠO«) ali družbena (»upokojenec«). Ko si »za časom«, je kulturna, ko se počutiš starega, je psihološka, ko se soočiš s podatki o pričakovani življenjski dobi, je statistična. A kot kaže, je predvsem arbitrarna. Sociologinja Margaret M. Gullette v študiji Aged by Culture (2004) pravi, da nas postara kultura, ne telo, mladi pogled pa nas prepričuje, da se moramo zaradi staranja počutiti slabo in da nas mora začeti skrbeti čim prej. Prepričuje nas, naj vneto preiskujemo svoje telo za znaki upadanja, pri čemer se starostna meja, ko naj bi nas začelo skrbeti, radikalno niža.

Napredovanje in nazadovanje

Kdaj točno se odraščanje prevesi v staranje? Strogo vzeto, se staramo od rojstva naprej. V tem smislu je staranje predvsem zgodba o teku časa, o tem, kako ga lahko osmislimo. Vključuje tako željo po varnosti kot potrebo po spremembah: če varnost potrebujemo zato, da si sploh lahko zamislimo kakršnokoli prihodnost, spremembe poživljajo, kot pravi Thomas Mann v Čarobni gori (1924), naš »čut za čas«. Brez sprememb, prelomnih življenjskih dogodkov in odločitev, bi se čas razlezel v brezoblično trajanje. Morda je gospa, ki jo gerontologinja Simona Hvalič Touzery citira v reviji Kakovostna starost, imela v mislih to izgubo, ko je rekla: »Po mojih izkušnjah mlajše ženske, ki se zavedajo negativnega odnosa do staranja, običajno govorijo o vseh nas starejših od 45 let kot o starih ženskah. Vendar pa imajo ženske, stare 80 let, hčerke, ki imajo 60 let, in vnukinje, ki jih imajo 40. Združevati nas vse v eno generacijo pomeni, da vsi izgubimo.«

Izenačevanje se trdovratno drži tudi mojega besedila, v katerem lahkotno skačem med opisi »mlajših starejših« (kamor spadam s svojimi 33-imi leti), ljudi srednjih let, starih v tretjem življenjskem obdobju (ki sovpada z upokojitvijo) in ljudi v četrtem obdobju (nad 75 let). Moj mladi pogled je mogoče brati tudi drugače: kot upor proti tako neizprosno postavljenim mejam, proti dejstvu, da s staranjem razlagamo tudi spremembe in lastnosti, ki niso vezane na starost. Razlagalnih sistemov je vsekakor več, res pa je, da v svetu, ki staranje izenačuje s starostjo, slednjo pa s postopnim propadanjem, ni prostora za subjektivno dojemanje časa.

Margaret M. Gullette pravi, da je ideologija staranja odrasle oropala za zgodbo o spreminjanju in napredovanju skozi čas, ki smo jo smeli poslušati v otroštvu in mladosti, vse tja do izstopa iz sistema institucionalnega varstva (kamor spada tudi študij). To zgodbo bi se dalo strniti v besede, s katerimi starši bodrijo svoje otroke v trenutku omahovanja, negotovosti ali neuspeha. »Ne skrbi,« pravijo, »vse ob svojem času«. Ko optimizem zamenja občutek, da »se mudi« ali celo občutek, da je »prepozno«, da bi »popravili napake« in »nadomestiti zamujeno«, takrat vemo, da smo odrasli. Na vprašanje sociologa Zygmunta Baumana, čemu v tem svetu služi strategija romarskega »napredovanja«, zato Gullette odgovarja, da jo občutimo kot nujnost, ki nam ob potrebi po varnosti zagotavlja preživetje mnogoterega, a enotnega jaza skozi čas, poleg tega pa nasprotuje depresivni binarni logiki, ki nas v odraslosti obsodi na zgodbo o propadu.

Ta ideologija se je začela uveljavljati z nastopom znanstveno utemeljene medicine. Pred tem je bila starost cenjena prav zaradi duhovne zrelosti in modrosti. Starajoče se telo ni bilo izolirano, temveč povezano s kozmološkimi miselnimi sistemi in simboli. K izenačevanju staranja z odvečnostjo je veliko pripomogla kapitalistična ureditev, ki v visoki starosti vidi zgolj strošek in breme, to lekcijo pa mnogi ljudje ponotranjijo že ob upokojitvi, čeprav mlajšim generacijam v obliki imetja in neplačanega dela dajejo marsikaj. Mladi pogled tega prispevka ne opazi, ker je vpet v ideologijo, ki tako »mlade« kot »stare« postavlja pred enako zagato: po eni strani od nas zahteva nenehno spreminjanje in rast, po drugi pa pravi, da se ne smemo postarati, saj nam samo mladost (ali vsaj mladostnost) lahko zagotovi bodoče uspehe.

Za ljudi, ki so se poslovili od mladosti, je to nerešljivo protislovje lahko zelo strašljivo. In starejši kot smo, večji je pritisk, pri čemer tudi mladi živijo v strahu pred bodočim neuspehom. Nezavedno prepričanje, da nas propad – podobno kot bolezen – čaka za vogalom, je splošno razširjeno, življenje pa reducira na biologijo, razumljeno kot »usodo«. Eden bolj žalostnih učinkov ideologije propadanja je, da se zapremo vase in pozabimo, da se ob nas istočasno stara še marsikdo: naši bližnji, naši sosedje, pravzaprav ves svet. In ker je predsodek o pešanju moči in neizogibnem propadu obveljal za edino resnično zgodbo o staranju, v njem težko prepoznamo kulturni konstrukt. Če bi ga, potem bi bila možnost za kritiko, upor in spremembe na dlani.

Zanikanje staranja

Mladi pogled je značilen za potrošniško kulturo, ki mladost izenačuje z lepoto. V potrošniški kulturi telo velja za projekt, na katerem je treba delati. Treba ga je oblikovati in nadzirati, saj predstavlja prostor samoopredeljevanja in seveda potrošnje. Ker je potrošniška kultura vizualno naravnana, nove oblike samonadzorovanja vključujejo nenehno ocenjevanje lastnega videza (pred ogledalom, v izložbah, na fotografijah), ki poganja naše stremljenje k popolni lepoti. K temu veliko pripomorejo reklame, ki nas zasipajo s podobami golih ali napol golih mladih žensk ter lepotna kirurgija, ki nas prepričuje, da lahko izbriše ali vsaj prikrije znake staranja. Oglaševanje »anti-ageing« kozmetike naslavlja vse širšo ciljno skupino, začenši s tridesetletnicami – in vse pogosteje tudi tridesetletniki. V reklamah za zdravila, kreme proti gubam in posebno spodnje perilo, ki prav gotovo ni erotično, se pojavljajo telesa, ki so mlajša od teles ciljnih potrošnikov. Če bi se v reklami pojavil človek visoke starosti, bi preveč ogrozil potrošnika, kateremu želi prodati prav sanje o večni mladosti.

Čeprav vemo, da ne moremo odmisliti telesnih sprememb, ki spremljajo staranje, je ideja večne mladosti neskončno privlačna. Obljublja nam uspeh, samostojnost in učinkovitost, torej vse tisto, kar pogojuje tako avtonomno identiteto kot družbeno vključenost. Za prepuščanje tej fantaziji plačamo visoko ceno, saj se moramo v imenu mladosti odpovedati mnogim, predvsem preteklim vidikom lastnega jaza. Socialni gerontologi trdijo, da se ob novih, tako fizičnih kot psiholoških izzivih, ki jih prinaša staranje, spreminjamo, četudi ostajamo isti, kar pomeni, da je identiteta večplastna. »V tem smislu se starost v ničemer ne razlikuje od drugih življenjskih obdobij,« je zapisala Molly Andrews, »spremembe so številne in resnične; če jih zanikamo, tako kot to skušajo početi mnogi ljudje, ki nasprotujejo starostni diskriminaciji, se obnašamo nespametno«. A težava je v tem, da je težko prepoznati razliko med zanikanjem staranja na eni strani in uporom proti družbenim predstavam o staranju na drugi.

Nevidnost, ki bije v oči

Feministične študije o staranju se običajno začnejo z opažanjem, da v akademskih in umetniških krogih obstaja strah pred staranjem, ki je tudi sicer značilen za zahodno kulturo, kar pomeni, da se o staranju ne govori. Če že govorimo o telesu, imamo v mislih mlado ali mladostno, predvsem pa zdravo telo. Telo, ki se stara, je v takšnih pogojih preveč vidno in nevidno obenem. Še posebej žensko telo, saj ga vedno presojamo z vidika spolne privlačnosti in reproduktivne sposobnosti. Ker med starostniki prevladujejo ženske, je vsako staro telo, tudi moško, feminizirano in dvojno obteženo z negativnimi pomeni. A če starejšim moškim kljub temu priznavamo dostojanstvenost, smo do starejših žensk neusmiljeni. Zato feministke pravijo, da se ženske postaramo prej kot moški.

Starejšim ženskam, ki želijo nastopiti kot seksualna bitja, je prostor natančno odmerjen: roza kostim mora spremljati mladosten nasmeh in hehet, ki mora preprečiti vsako miselno povezavo med starostjo, seksualno zrelostjo in družbeno močjo. Ženskam, ki želijo ustrezati seksualnemu idealu nedolžnega, nedozorelega in nemočnega dekletca, se odkrito posmehujemo in pravimo, da bi se morale naučiti obnašati »svojim letom primerno«. Obtožujemo jih zanikanja starosti in samoprevare, vendar se na tem mestu velja ponovno vprašati, če je meja med pristajanjem na družbene norme in uporom proti njim res tako jasna. Povedano drugače: kako naj ženska »skrbi za svoj videz« in »ostaja zvesta« svojemu zrelemu jazu v družbi, ki lepoto in legitimnost priznava zgolj in samo mladosti?

Feministična teorija se je starajočim se telesom dolgo izogibala. Iz zapletenih razlogov, tudi zaradi splošne gerontofobije, se je raje posvečala mlajšim, privlačnim telesom in njihovim medijskim reprezentacijam. Pri tem je oblikovala vrsto konceptov, ki so dopuščali upiranje lepotnemu idealu, recimo »prekomerno telo«, »neposlušno telo«, »neukrotljivo telo«, »groteskno telo«, »kiborško telo« in »androgino telo«. Kot je opazila sociologinja Kathleen Woodward, se z gerontološkega vidika našteti izrazi ujemajo s predsodki o starih ljudeh. Na primer, »neukrotljivo telo« je v individualistični kulturi, ki posameznikovo identiteto veže na njegovo (od drugih ločeno) telo, lahko metafora za inkontinenco. Če se tvoje telo razleze preko svojih meja, če nekontrolirano izloča urin, podvomiš v lastno avtonomijo in ogrožaš avtonomijo drugih posameznikov. Tvoja »razpuščenost« jih navdaja z odporom ali celo gnusom. V primeru bolezni, ki zahteva nego, feminizaciji sledi infantilizacija. Status bolnika ali onemoglega človeka te reducira na telo, zgolj in samo telo, to telo pa je z vstopom v institucionalni sistem nege podvrženo biopolitičnemu nadzoru, ki je najstrašnejši na vsakdanji ravni; na ravni neprostovoljne golote in kopanja, ki ga denimo izvaja mlada oblečena negovalka.

Bolj ko smo stari, težje zanikamo dejstvo, da smo telesna bitja. Na to nas opozarjajo bolezni in bolečine, zato je o staranju nemogoče razmišljati ločeno od telesa, kar pa ne pomeni, da se moramo vrniti k biološkemu determinizmu, ki obvladuje medicinski in deloma tudi gerontološki diskurz. Težava je v tem, da ima v zahodni kulturi poudarjanje telesa kaj hitro lahko ponižujoč učinek: dokaz za to je dolga tradicija mizoginije, ki ženske še vedno reducira na telo. Feministične študije so se obravnavi starejših ženskih teles nemara tako dolgo izogibale tudi zato, ker so se želele izogniti poniževanju že tako dvojno diskriminiranih ljudi.

Julia Twigg je opozorila na dodaten problem, s katerim se soočajo feministične študije. Ker staranje in bolečina poudarita materialnost telesa, ga ne moremo brati kot izključno kulturno proizveden diskurz ali »tekst«. Zato feministična gerontologija poststrukturalistične uvide skuša nadgraditi z opažanji, ki izhajajo iz materialnosti telesa, obenem pa se izogiba biološkemu determinizmu in kartezijanskemu dualizmu. Slednji vzpostavlja radikalno ločnico med telesom in občutjem lastne identitete, pri čemer se zanaša na znani razkorak med našo kronološko starostjo in subjektivnim občutenjem starosti, ki je seveda nižja od biološke. To je dodaten razlog, zakaj feministična gerontologija, ki želi razpravljati o utelešenem jazu, ne more zavračati materialnosti (kulturno proizvedenega) telesa. 

Uprizarjanje starosti

Če lahko uprizarjamo spol, ali lahko uprizarjamo tudi starost? Na odru gotovo, kaj pa v vsakdanjem življenju? Spol ima v resničnem življenju svojo performativno zgodovino, ki postane del naše osebne zgodovine, če se ga naučimo dobro odigrati. Ko v otroštvu privzameš kulturno določene načine vedenja in določene navade, jih tako ponotranjiš, da se ti zdijo samoumevne, postanejo del tebe. So daleč od uprizarjanja. Vendar to utrjevanje navad ni večno ali dokončno. V teku življenja lahko privzamemo nove načine obnašanja, nove navade in nove načine samoopredeljevanja.

Margaret M. Gullette poda zanimiv primer uprizarjanja spola, ki je neločljiv od uprizarjanja starosti že zato, ker je način, kako iz teles razbiramo spol, neločljivo povezan s tem, kako razbiramo starost. Pripoveduje o ženskah, vzgojenih pred pojavom feminizma, ki so ob stiku z emancipacijskim gibanjem začele zavestno spreminjati svojo držo, hojo, glas in izraz na obrazu. V javnosti so začele nastopati z odločnejšim glasom, opustile so vprašujočo intonacijo ob koncu vsakega stavka, v zadregi so se nehale hihitati, predvsem pa so se manj smehljaje in si nadele resnejši izraz, ki je moškim sporočal: »Nisem nobena punči, jemlji me resno.« Feminizem, pravi Gullette, jim ni narekoval konkretnih sprememb, le splošni cilj je določil. Zase pove, da je omejila zibanje v bokih ter podaljšala in pospešila svoj korak. Tako njen novi glas kot odločna hoja sta dajala vtis, da je starejša, kar je »imelo telesne/subjektivne učinke, saj sem se zaradi teh sprememb počutila bolj vitalno, bolj močno, pa tudi bolj varno pred nadlegovanjem na ulici.«

Kar se ji je ob prvih korakih, ob ustvarjanju novih navad, zdelo »ponarejeno« in zgolj dobro odigrano, se je sčasoma spremenilo v njen novi jaz, v njeno novo telo, v katerem se je počutila dobro. To telo je postalo enako samoumevno kot je bilo pred tem samoumevno njeno ženstveno telo. Slednje se ji je z novega gledišča zdelo »trapasto«; zdaj je nanj gledala kot na pretirano uprizarjanje ženstvenosti. »Ko sem se zasidrala v novo telo,« zapiše Gullette, »sem pridobila novo samodejno telo: moj trenutni in vidni izraz mojega jaza, mojo v času in kulturi utelešeno psiho.«

Če sprejmemo prevladujoči biološki determinizem, ki trdi, da staranje vodijo biološki mehanizmi, na katere nimamo vpliva, se dejansko počutimo kot žrtve »procesa staranja«. Medtem socialna gerontologija poudarja, da ima staranje svojo aktivno plat, ki dopušča namerne spremembe. Morda je o telesu – podobno kot o identiteti – zato bolje razmišljati kot o zaporedju poskusov, novih in novih uprizarjanj, ki se postopoma, če le ne naletimo na prevelik odpor okolice, strnejo v nove navede, v novo telo, ki ne izniči vseh prejšnjih jazov. In če v telesu sočasno bivajo tvoji pretekli, sedanji in nastajajoči jazi, potem mladost in starost nista nespravljivo nasprotje, temveč bogat preplet izkušenj, ki kličejo k novi, do staranja prijaznejši kulturi, ki bo namesto o »starosti primernem obnašanju« razpravljala o »čutu za čas«.

Viri

Molly ANDREWS (1999): »The seductiveness of agelessness«. V: Ageing and Society, št. 19, str. 301–318.

Simona HVALIČ TOUZERY (2003): »Stereotipi in dejstva o staranju in starih ljudeh«. V: Kakovostna starost, let. 6, št. 3, str. 52–56.

Margaret MORGANROTH GULLETTE (2004): Aged by Culture. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Julia TWIGG (2004): »The body, gender, and age: Feminist insights in social gerontology«. V: Journal of Aging Studies, št. 18, str. 59–73.

Kathleen WOODWARD (2006): »Performing Age, Performing Gender«. V: The National Women's Studies Association Journal, let. 18, št. 1 (pomlad), str. 162–189.

A Sense of Time

Below is my essay, written for Maja Delak's solo performance What If? It was published in the performance catalogue, released on October 3rd 2013 - the day of the premiere at Old Power Station – Elektro Ljubljana as part of the City of Women festival.

The Slovene version of the essay is here. Photos from the premiere can be seen here (FB).

Tea Hvala

A Sense of Time

Habituation is a falling asleep or fatiguing of the sense of time; which explains why young years pass slowly, while later life flings itself faster and faster upon its course. We are aware that the intercalation of periods of change and novelty is the only means by which we can refresh our sense of time, strengthen, retard, and rejuvenate it, and therewith renew our perception of life itself. -- Thomas Mann
.

The Young Perspective

When I was invited to write an article about ageing I thought: but how come …? I am not old yet. I can’t write about things I don’t know, I grumbled, but then anyway searched for some gerontological references and read in the magazine Kakovostna starost (Good Quality of Old Age) that people between 60 and 87 also say that they don’t feel old.

No wonder. Because of the stereotypes we associate with old age, it would be downright self-destructive to identify with it. In a culture that celebrates youth, growing old can be nothing but horrifying or pitiful. There is a common prejudice about old people not contributing to society, that at best they are a burden, that in old age psychological and physical problems are inevitable and that the lives of the old are lonely and asexual. In short, a young perspective considers all those older than it a homogenous group, one that is radically different from “us”. Like other types of discrimination, age discrimination thrives in a world divided between “us” and “them”.  

You can be old in different ways. In a biological way (“wrinkles”), chronological (“social security number”) or social (“a pensioner”). When you are “out of time”, you’re old culturally, when you feel old, you’re psychologically old, when confronted with life expectancy data, you’re statistically old. But as it seems, being old is first of all arbitrary. In her study Aged by Culture (2004), sociologist Margaret M. Gullette says that it is culture that makes us grow older, not the body, while a young perspective is trying to persuade us that we have to feel bad about getting old and that we should start worrying about it as soon as possible, convincing us to search our bodies for signs of decline, while the age limit when we should be getting really worried is getting radically lower.

Progress and Decline

When exactly does growing up turn to growing old? Strictly speaking, we are getting old from the moment we are born. In this sense, ageing is first of all a story about the course of time, about how we can make sense of it. It includes both a wish to feel safe and a need for change: if we need to feel safe to imagine the future at all, then change invigorates our “sense of time”, as Thomas Mann put it in his The Magic Mountain (1924). Without change, turning points and moments of decision, time would be formless duration. Perhaps the lady quoted by the gerontologist Simona Hvalič Touzery in the journal Good Quality of Old Age had precisely this loss in mind when she said: “Experience tells me that younger women who are conscious of negative attitudes toward ageing speak about us older than 45 as old women. However, women over 80 have daughters who are 60 years old and granddaughters who are 40. We all lose by making a single generation out of us.”

Such levelling is also tenaciously present in this text in which I jump easily from descriptions of the “younger older” (including myself, a 33-year-old), the middle-aged people to third age people and fourth age people (over 75). But there is also a different reading of my young perspective: as resistance against such merciless boundaries, against the fact that we use ageing to explain also changes and traits not connected to old age. Of course there are several different explanatory systems; but in a world that equals ageing with old age and old age with gradual decline, there is no space for subjective time perception.

Margaret M. Gullette says that the ageing ideology has robbed grown-ups of a story about changing and developing through time, which we were used to hearing when we were young, up until the point of exiting the system of institutional protection (including our studies). This story can be summed up with a phrase used by parents to encourage their children in moments of hesitation, uncertainty or failure. “Don’t worry,” they say, “all in good time.” When optimism is replaced by the feeling that we are “in a hurry” or even that it’s “too late” to “undo the mistakes” and “make up for what’s lost”, then we know we are grown up. Gullette answers the question of the sociologist Zygmunt Bauman about the purpose of the strategy of a pilgrim’s “progress” as follows: we consider this strategy a necessity that, along with our need for safety, ensures the survival of a heterogeneous but unified self through time, and on top of that opposes the depressed binary logic that in adulthood sentences us to the story of decline.

This ideology became more influential with the onset of science-based medicine. Prior to that, old age was valued precisely because of spiritual maturity and wisdom. The ageing body was not isolated but connected to cosmological thought systems and symbols. The equating of ageing with being superfluous was boosted by the capitalist system, which sees old age as mere cost and burden, while this lesson is quickly internalised by some already at their retirement although in many ways they help the younger generations financially and in terms of unpaid work. A young perspective doesn’t notice these contributions because it is influenced by the ideology that puts both “the young” and “the old” in a deadlock: on the one hand, it demands continual change and growth, on the other, it tells us we shouldn’t get old because only youth (or at least youthfulness) can ensure future success.

This unsolvable paradox can be really terrifying for people who have said their goodbye to youth. And the older we are, the greater the pressure – even young people live in fear of a future failure. An unconscious conviction that decline – similarly as disease – is just around the corner is quite common; it reduces life to biology understood as “destiny”. One of the more sad effects of the ideology of decline is that we close ourselves off, forgetting that people around us are getting old as well: our relatives, our neighbours, the whole world as a matter of fact. And because prejudice about decline and an inevitable deterioration has prevailed as the only true story about ageing, we can hardly recognise it as a cultural construct. If we did, the chances for critique, resistance and change would be clear as day.

The Denial of Ageing

A young perspective is characteristic for the consumerist culture that equates youth and beauty. In consumerist culture, the body is considered a project one should work on. It needs to be shaped and controlled as it presents the space of self-definition and, of course, consumption. Because the consumerist culture is visually oriented, new forms of self-control include ongoing assessments of our looks (in front of the mirror, in shopping windows, photos) that fuel our striving for absolute beauty. Advertisements contribute a lot to this, swamping us with images of naked and half-naked young women, as well as cosmetic surgery, convincing us that it can erase or at least cover up the signs of ageing. Advertising of “anti-ageing” cosmetics is addressing an increasingly wider target group, starting with 30-year-old women – and more and more 30-year-old men. Ads for medication, anti-ageing creams and special underwear that is completely non-erotic present us with bodies younger than the bodies of target consumers. If an old person appeared in such an ad, s/he would be a threat to the consumer whom s/he wants to sell the dream of eternal youth to.

Although we know that we cannot ignore bodily changes accompanying ageing, the idea about eternal youth seems infinitely attractive. It promises us success, independence and efficiency, namely, all that which conditions both autonomous identity and social inclusion. We are paying a high price for surrendering to this fantasy, because we have to, in the name of youth, give up many past aspects of our selves. Social gerontologists argue that the new, both physical and psychological challenges brought about by ageing change us although we remain the same, which means that identity is multifaceted. “In this sense, old age is no different than any other period of life,” says Molly Andrews, “changes are many and real; to deny them, like the people who are against age discrimination, would be foolish. But the problem is that it is difficult to recognise the difference between the denial of ageing on the one hand and resistance against social representations of ageing on the other.”

Striking Invisibility

Feminist studies about ageing usually start with an observation that in the academic and art circles there is a certain fear of ageing, which is characteristic for the Western culture, which means that ageing is something not talked about. If we do discuss the body, it is the body that is young or youthful and primarily healthy. The ageing body is in such conditions too visible and invisible at the same time – especially the female body, which is always judged from the point of sexual attractiveness and reproduction. Because the majority of old people are women, every old body, also that of a man, is feminised and double loaded with negative connotations. However, while we recognise a certain dignity in older men, we are extremely unfeeling toward older women. That’s why feminists say that women get older sooner.

Older women who want to be seen as sexual beings have their space carefully measured out: a pink suit with a youthful smile and giggling, the point of which is to block out any connection between age, sexual maturity and social power. We openly mock women who want to conform to the sexual ideal of an innocent, immature and helpless girl, saying that they should learn “to act their age”. We accuse them of denying their age and of self-deception; however, we should again ask ourselves whether the line between complying with social norms and resistance against them is in fact clearly defined. In other words: how can a woman “take care of her appearance” and “remain true” to her mature self in a society that ascribes beauty and legitimacy only to youth?

Feminist theory has long avoided ageing bodies. Out of complex reasons and also because of a common gerontophobia, it rather focused on younger, more attractive bodies and their media representations. Through this, it developed a series of concepts that tolerated resistance to the beauty ideal, for example, the “oversized body”, “disobedient body”, “untamed body”, “grotesque body”, “cyborg body” and “androgynous body”. Seen from a gerontological perspective, these expressions correspond to prejudice against old people, as has been noted by the sociologist Kathleen Woodward. For example, in an individualistic culture that associates an individual’s identity to her/his body (separated from others), the “untamed body” can be seen as a metaphor for incontinence. When your body starts spreading over its boundaries, when it uncontrollably excretes urine, you have to start doubting your autonomy as well as start to see yourself as a threat to the autonomy of others. Your “disorderliness” fills them with distaste or even disgust. In case of a disease that requires care, feminisation is followed by infantilisation. The status of a patient or an enfeebled person reduces one to a mere body, only a body, and by entering institutional care system this body is submitted to biopolitical control, which is most horrifying precisely at the everyday level, at the level of involuntary nakedness and bathing performed by, let’s say, a young and dressed nurse.

The older we get the more difficult it is to deny the fact that we are corporeal beings. Disease and pain remind us of that, that’s why it is nearly impossible to think about ageing without also thinking of the body, which, however, doesn’t mean that we have to return to biological determinism, which controls medical and partly also gerontological discourse. The problem is that, in Western culture, focusing on the body quite quickly assumes a degrading effect: only think of the long tradition of misogyny that still reduces women to mere bodies. Perhaps feminist studies avoided the discussion of older female bodies for such a long time also because they wanted to prevent degradation of people already twice discriminated against.

Julia Twigg calls attention to another problem that feminist studies are facing. Because ageing and pain underline the materiality of the body, we cannot read it exclusively as a culture-produced discourse or “text”. That’s why feminist gerontology tries to upgrade poststructuralist insights with observations stemming from the body’s materiality, while at the same time trying to avoid biological determinism and Cartesian dualism. The latter has constituted a radical dividing line between the body and the perception of identity, relying on the famous gap between our chronological age and subjective feeling of age, which is, of course, lower than the biological. Herein lies the additional reason why feminist gerontology, attempting to discuss the embodied self, cannot discard the materiality of the (culturally produced) body.

Performing Age

If we can perform gender, can we perform age as well? No doubt we can do it on stage, but what about in everyday life? Gender in real life has its own performative history, which becomes part of our personal history, if we learn to perform it well. When you take up culturally specific ways of behaving and habits as a child, you internalize them until they become self-evident, until they become a part of you. They are far removed from performance. However, this consolidation of habits is neither eternal nor final. In the course of our lives, we can take up new ways of behaving, new habits and new ways of defining ourselves.

Margaret M. Gullette gives us an interesting example of the performance of gender, which is inextricably linked to the performance of age, inasmuch as the way in which we read gender from bodies is closely tied to the way in which we read age. She talks about women, raised before the advent of feminism, which began to consciously change their postures, their ways of walking, their voices and facial expressions when they got in touch with the emancipatory movement. They began to use a more resolute voice in public, they abandoned the questioning intonation at the end of every sentence, they stopped giggling when embarrassed, but most of all they smiled less and put on a more serious expression, which communicated to men: “I am no baby, take me seriously.” Feminism, according to Gullette, did not dictate any concrete changes; it only set the general aim. Gullette says that she herself limited the swinging of her hips and prolonged and accelerated her steps. Her new voice and her resolute way of walking gave the impression that she was older, which had “corporeal/subjective effects, since I felt much more vital, stronger, but also safer from harassment on the street because of these changes.”

What seemed like a fake or like a skilful performance when making her first steps and creating new habits slowly turned into her new self, her new body, which made her feel comfortable. This body became as self-evident as her feminine body had been before. The latter seemed “silly” from her new point of view; now she viewed it as an exaggerated performance of femininity. “When I anchored myself in my new body,” Gullette writes, “I acquired a new self-evident body: the momentary and evident expression of my self, my psyche embodied in a specific time and culture.”

If we accept the dominant biological determinism, which claims that ageing is led by biological mechanisms which we cannot control, we actually may feel as victims of “the process of ageing”. Meanwhile, social gerontology emphasizes that ageing has its active side, which allows for intentional changes. Maybe it is then more appropriate to think of the body – analogous to how we think identity – in the sense of a series of trials, ever new performances that eventually, if we do not encounter too much resistance from the environment, stratify into new habits, a new body, which does not cancel all earlier selves. And if your body is simultaneously inhabited by your past, present and upcoming selves, then youth and old age are no more irreconcilable opposites, but a rich entanglement of experiences that call for a new culture, which would be kinder to the process of ageing and would not talk anymore of “the behaviour appropriate to your age”, but would instead discuss a “sense of time”.

Translated by: Katja Kosi and Katja Čičigoj

Proofreading: Eric Dean Scott

References

Molly ANDREWS (1999): “The seductiveness of agelessness”. In: Ageing and Society, n. 19, pp. 301–318.

Simona HVALIČ TOUZERY (2003): “Stereotipi in dejstva o staranju in starih ljudeh”. In: Kakovostna starost, year 6, n. 3, pp. 52–56.

Margaret MORGANROTH GULLETTE (2004): Aged by Culture. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Julia TWIGG (2004): “The body, gender, and age: Feminist insights in social gerontology”. In: Journal of Aging Studies, n. 18, pp. 59–73.

Kathleen WOODWARD (2006): “Performing Age, Performing Gender”. In: The National Women’s Studies Association Journal, year 18, n. 1 (spring), pp. 162–189.