Re Anita Chaudhuri’s article (Whatever happened to middle age? The mysterious case of the disappearing life stage, 16 February), in the research that I did for my book, Not Too Old For That, I discovered that there was no concept of midlife until 1895, when the word was included in the dictionary for the first time, defined as “the part of life between youth and old age”.
Here’s what happened in that “part of life” for women – babies and mothering. In the 1800s, most women had around seven children and spent 17 years pregnant or breastfeeding, after which they were understandably weakened or disabled. They were likely dead by the time their children left home.
By the 1900s, however, women had just two or three children and were around 53 when their kids left home. Middle-aged women discovered that there was life after children. But if a woman could no longer have children, and was not breastfeeding and mothering, did she even have a purpose? Society told us no. Middle-aged women were devalued because society limited our options, as Patricia Cohen writes in her book, In Our Prime: The Invention of Middle Age: “Primarily typecast as mothers and housewives, in society’s view they became functionally unnecessary after menopause and after their children grew up.”
Despite what society thought of us, most middle-aged women experienced what the anthropologist Margaret Mead called “postmenopausal zest” – a time when they could reappraise their lives and burst free from traditional gender roles. Chaudhuri is right – the world hasn’t caught up with older women’s sense of power and freedom.
Vicki Larson
Marin County, California, US
• I recently sat with an old friend, pondering the question raised by Anita Chaudhuri. We are both technically middle-aged. Aches and tiredness are more pronounced – or is it menopause? Are menopause and middle age synonymous anyway? What will we be on the other side of it? Hopefully, still accomplished and sassy like we are now, forging new futures and rejecting the old occupations that didn’t respect our talents and ambitions (my 40s have meant leaving a career as a senior school leader and going freelance, which fits around my children; hers retraining and heading back to university without children to consider).
Internally, the world feels like our oyster (even when we’re being told by adverts and the media that it’s not and that we must take steps to slow down our obvious decline). Maybe we should not worry about what box we fit into and keep seeing where life takes us, conscious that enjoying the ride is the goal and that age is nothing but a number.
Zoë Purdie-Wood
London
• At 49, I am grappling with the concept of being middle-aged, as if it was a concept rather than a state, as your article points out. I have resolved from this point on not to talk about being “old” or “decrepit” negatively (as I often do with my children) with a roll of the eyes for comic effect. I am only going to be positive or factual about anything relating to my age or physical condition. The same way I resolved never to be apologetic about “just” working part-time – that’s worked well for maintaining my sense of belonging and worth at work.
Having said that, I am wedded to dyeing my hair and I’m planning a pool party for my 50th. It’s all part of life’s rich pattern.
Laura Sanderson
Hinckley, Leicestershire
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