You become more and more invisible as the years go by. Put on your best before, even if you feel at least as good after. You recognize us. Gray hair, practical hairstyles, practical shoes, practical bags on the stomach or rucksacks on the back. We sit in the front rows at the theatre, and on the first bench at lectures. We are a little hard of hearing, it’s good to come early. I walked behind some of us one morning, on our way to the train. Four girlfriends walked in front of me, the reflection above fell into my head. I chose the same compartment, curious as to who they were. They brought a thermos and packed lunch, the coffee on the train is expensive and bad, and it’s been a long time since there was any service to talk about on board. The talk was about electricity prices, about Putin’s war, about novels they have read, films they have seen, about grandchildren in a challenging world and about the weather. November is gray here in town. A man sitting nearby moved away. Too much “women’s glam”? Perhaps he didn’t consider that there could be former teachers, engineers, doctors, economists, a professor perhaps? That he could be a little enlightened. Discreet eavesdropping is permitted on public communications. We have become our appearance and are defined by the myth about us. The retired, those who were, are not. We are exceptionally invited to the Debate or Dagsnytt 18 or Nytt på Nytt. What can we contribute? Gradually, we become less faithful listeners and viewers, because we are hardly to be found in the media image. Representation applies as much to 70-year-olds as to 20-year-olds. So watch out, public broadcasters: Who are you throwing out with the bathwater? Recently, we also learned from three influence that “old age” starts at the age of 40. We who are well over 40 are definitely not seen as today’s power-women, even though we are a generation that have really been some tough guys, who have fought for women’s rights, equality and, of course, their place in working life and politics. The date stamp may have expired, but few test us and find that we are actually good too. What we can offer is lived professional life, in addition to lived life. Experience from boardrooms and directors’ offices, from tribunals, councils and committees, from international work as well as nationally. One day this is suddenly no longer relevant. Slowly, sometime in our mid-50s, we disappear more and more often from the public eye, to eventually become invisible. From entering a room and being seen, we almost become a “Skybert”. It happens that we are contacted, but preferably about elderly issues. We’re not quite sure about that, because we’ve just got there. However, we learn quickly, precisely because we have ended up in a big gray fold. Many of us are doing well. We’ve been out a few winter nights before. We are fresh, creative, have networks and find channels we can work through. We contribute to a diverse society, but only exceptionally do the agenda-setters discover that we are actually there, that we exist and should be used. It’s not our fault. But it is a poor society that sets such narrow limits. The next time you see a gray-haired one, invite a conversation. Amazing what can come out of it.
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