As a young woman, I spend a lot of time thinking about how much attention our culture gives to appearance. It’s hard not to notice when you grow up surrounded by social media feeds filled with beauty routines, anti-aging products, and constant conversations about how people look. But recently I’ve started wondering about something deeper: whether our obsession with youth and beauty is quietly changing the way we treat older people (especially older women).
When I scroll through social media, it often feels like youth is treated as the ultimate achievement. There are endless posts about staying young, preventing wrinkles, or maintaining the “perfect” appearance. Even though this feels like a modern problem, I’ve also started noticing that magazines and media from past decades weren’t so different. Beauty has long been presented as one of the most important qualities a woman can have. What seems to have changed is the intensity and speed at which these messages spread. With social media, those expectations now follow us constantly.
Because of that, I sometimes wonder if this focus on appearance is making us unconsciously value people less as they age. When beauty is framed as something tied to youth, growing older can start to feel like a loss rather than a natural part of life. And if we absorb that idea enough, it might shape how we see the people who are already older than us.
I’ve especially noticed how harsh the conversation can be around older women in the public eye. When an older male figure appears in the media, the discussion often centers on his experience, influence, or legacy. But when an older woman appears, the commentary frequently turns to her appearance, whether she has “aged well,” whether she looks different, whether she should have done something to preserve her looks. Instead of celebrating decades of work, creativity, leadership, or resilience, the focus can shift almost immediately to how her face or body has changed.
What troubles me is that this kind of commentary slowly teaches us what society values. If older women are mainly discussed in terms of how they look, it becomes easier to overlook their accomplishments and wisdom. In the process, we risk losing respect for the generations that came before us (not intentionally), but through the subtle messages we absorb about whose voices and stories matter.
I also notice something sad in the way society often celebrates people only after they are gone. When an influential woman passes away, suddenly there are articles, tributes, and reflections on everything she contributed. Her achievements, courage, and impact are finally acknowledged. But I can’t help wondering why that recognition didn’t feel as visible while she was alive.
For me, this raises a bigger question about the kind of culture we want to live in. Aging should not mean fading into the background or becoming invisible. Older people carry decades of knowledge, experience, and perspective that younger generations simply haven’t had time to develop yet. When we reduce people to how they look, we lose sight of the richness of their lives.
As someone still figuring out my place in the world, I find myself wanting to push back against that mindset. Instead of treating youth and beauty as the ultimate measure of value, maybe we should start celebrating longevity, wisdom, and life experience more openly. The women who built careers, raised families, led movements, created art, or shaped communities deserve to be recognized for those achievements while they are here, not just remembered for them later.
Maybe the real challenge for my generation is learning to look beyond the surface again. If we can do that, we might not only change how we see older women, but also rediscover a deeper respect for the people whose lives and stories came before our own.