The Art of Disappearing
Image Courtesy: Instagram
This summer I found myself in Cape May, New Jersey, a quaint, seaside tourist town with old Colonial Style neighborhoods and bagel shop street corners. Our group had been invited to the National Playwrights Symposium as actors, the annual week long event dedicated to helping playwrights share their written work for feedback and hone in on their craft. It was a great week and I got to hear tons of different stories. One Joni Mithcell-esque woman shared scenes of her former cop days; the turtlenecked man in the corner wrote surprisingly ridiculous shorts, ironic to his stone cold stares and stoic air about him. There were so many works presented on that stage that they all began to melt together at some point–though one of the ones that sticks out to me now was the Invisible Woman play.
The play featured a female character unable to get a drink at the local bar for being literally invisible to the outer world. The much younger, attractive girl next to her attains all the service she wants from the bartender, the short ending with a three-minute monologue of our protagonist, crying out of how no one notices her anymore now that she’s reached middle age. The speech is imperfect, but it gets people’s attention, finally. She ends the play eating bar peanuts with a knowing smugness, warning that all those who now bathe in youth will one day be forgotten, like a wilted flower, or bagged spinach you buy and never open.
To be completely honest, I hadn’t noticed the playwright much that week. She was just like her protagonist: middle age, bookish with big glasses, and simple clothes. Only later did I feel curious enough to research the idea. A simple Google search revealed the mass amount of women, typically over fifty, reporting how they often feel overlooked in society, typically in service, the workplace, and social groups. Many describe feeling seen through; that once their beauty has faded, so has their relevance.
It’s something I think says a lot about our culture and how we value women. In a world that emphasizes and rewards outward appearance, it’s not unlikely to feel powerless once we’ve “lost” what we’ve been told to upkeep all our lives. Psychologist Angeliki Yiassemides explores the idea in her article, “The Invisible Woman Syndrome”, and compares how we often view the aging process between men and women: “At the half century mark, men are typically viewed as being at the zenith of their professional and personal lives, often leading organizations and companies and are viewed as accomplished and experienced. This is in contrast to women whose main stock in trade is assumed to be their physical appearance, which were sold and told should be youthful and appealing to the male gaze…Women who report themselves Invisible find themselves depressed and with a sense of lost identity and lack of confidence.”
Image Courtesy: Instagram
This fear of usefulness in middle age goes deeper, but I do think we need reminders of what’s important. When I think of the people I’ve ever met in my life-–the funniest, most talented, and most sincere–their appearance played very little into how interesting I found them, or how good of a friend they were. Writer L.R.Trovillian in her article, “Invisible Woman Syndrome: Fading or Freedom?” says it perfectly: “Thrive by focusing on what you can control—how you see yourself, how you choose to spend your time, and how you interact with others. You are not heading down a decline. No, now you are free. You’re free from sexually-driven stereotypes and roles that demand you maintain physical attractiveness. You are free from the limiting identities inexorably tied to reproductive function and child-rearing duties…The person we were on track to become before puberty hit and diverted us. Now is the time to roar, explore, and soar.”
I’m 21 as I write this. I can’t speak on how I’m going to feel when I’m 71 and have saggy arms and scoliosis and compression socks. I have no clue what she’s going to think when she’s scouring the aisles of the Food Lion like a ghost, with no one able to hear her when she asks where the oyster crackers are. But for now, I do think there’s something to say about where we put our stock. If we believe the lies, that our looks are the most interesting thing about us, we will feel hopeless as we age. So we might be overlooked? Instead of worrying so much on how you’re perceived, make them see what you can do. Write your play. Make your characters scream, kick, curse and say all the things you could never say. Slip back into secrecy once the curtains close. Revel in your freedom.
Strike Out,
Sophia Massebeau
Saint Augustine
Editor: Maya Kayyal
Sophia Massebeau is a Staff Writer for Strike Magazine, Saint Augustine. You might catch her busking downtown or apologizing for how messy her car is. You can find her @sophiamassebeau on Instagram or sophiemass1355@gmail.com.
