REDEFINING ELDERSHIP: Reimagining the “Elder” in Eldership

BY CARYN COOPER

When I hear the word “elder” there are a few things that come to mind. I think of a person who appears to be old. Maybe they have gray hair; maybe they don’t move as quickly as me when they walk; or maybe they use a cane, walker or wheelchair to get around. Either way, I have this image in my head of what an older person looks and moves like. I have also noticed that others also have a similar image of what and who an elder is. And as a result, it can lead to a wide array of reactions when someone is referred to as an elder. 

It makes me wonder about the relationship with the word elder and how we define eldership.

My current definition of an elder

The image I have in my head is a stereotype. Yes, there are some folks who may look like this, but it is not the case for all. After thinking about it more, I feel that image of what an older person looks like is everywhere. I was recently reading a few comic strips in the newspaper, and every old person looked the same—gray hair, wrinkles on their face with a hunched back. 

Why this image seems to be widely accepted, I am not sure. Perhaps it is a result of ageism in our society? But I do know that it is an image that constantly comes up. 

Growing up, though, I was always told to respect my elders. Some of the ways I grew up “respecting my elders” included giving up my seat on the bus or train for an older person, or holding the door open for them as they enter/exit before me. This is predicated on the stereotyped, but reframed.

Societal view of being an elder

Being based in the U.S., I know that the view of older adults varies from place to place. I often feel that many folks here in the U.S. tend to have a negative view of getting older. As I watch television, there are several commercials with advertisements about how to look and feel younger. There are many products about how to fight hair loss, getting rid of wrinkles, and diets to lose weight to name a few. 

I have had friends who are eager to go to the gym to build and show off their muscles to prove to others and themselves that they can look and feel young. I have even found myself wanting to hide the fact that I might look older than my age. Having gray hair at an early age runs in my family. I didn’t want to show off my grays, so instead I spent a lot of time and money coloring my hair. 

I currently do a lot of work in a senior living community. When I tell my friends about the work I do there, others assume that everyone is sitting around playing bingo and falling asleep. Senior living facilities have the image of being a place to waste away until you die. I have also had many conversations with adults that want to be independent and live at home for as long as possible and fear the need of moving into a nursing home/facility. These communities are not a monolith - and neither are the perspectives on being an elder.

These conversations always leave me wondering: What is the fear of getting old? Why do we not want to show that we are getting older? Why are older adults seen as less than younger people? Why do we strive so hard to protect the youth and forget about our elders?

Professional view of being an elder

When I think of someone being an elder in the workplace, I envision someone who is of a certain age, who has worked in the field for over a certain number of years, and someone who has spent time making contributions to the collective field as a whole. Physically, they may have some gray hair or wrinkles on their face. Professionally, they may have won awards of recognition for their work and contributions to the field or have their writing published in a book or scholarly journal. 

But when do we become an elder in the field? When did we stop being an emerging leader to become a veteran leader? At what point does that happen? Do we need to be of a certain age? How many years do we need to have worked first?

Much like working in the senior living community, eldership in our field is not a monolith and does not look a certain way. We must interrogate:

  • If we are seen as an elder, does that mean we are at the end of our career? 

  • Or are we starting a new chapter that may look different than the past 20-30 years, where we continue our work but in a new light? 

  • If we are awarded a lifetime achievement award, does that mean we have done enough? 

  • Although there is a sense of honor and accomplishment being an elder in the workplace, are we also seen as experts who no longer need or desire to learn?

Changing the narrative of being an elder

I take these above mentioned questions and ask myself what does it mean to be an elder, and what does and what can eldership look like? 

As our field redefines eldership, I challenge us to rethink the physical appearance of what an older person looks like and, similarly, our view on fieldwide positionality. Instead, remember that everyone can look and feel different at any age and can navigate their work in different ways. 

I challenge us to reconsider the biological view of age. In the US, we consider someone who is 65 or older to be a senior or elder. Instead, remember that age is nothing but a number that measures the length of time we have been alive. It does not mean your days are numbered and you will die soon. 

I challenge us to stop thinking that because an “elder” knows a lot and has many accomplishments that their work is done. Instead, let us find ways to view their experience as a perspective and remember that all people enjoy learning new things and not to count them out of the learning process.