This is 47-ish: Alison Kinney Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire
"I like having been alive long enough to know that people can change and transform who they are over and over and over again, and to know that I’ve potentially got many years left to keep doing that."
From the time I was 10, I’ve been obsessed with what it means to grow older. I’m curious about what it means to others, of all ages, and so I invite them to take “The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire.”
Here, author Alison Kinney responds. - Sari Botton
How old are you?
47-ish.
Is there another age you associate with yourself in your mind? If so, what is it? And why, do you think?
When I was roughly three months old, I was abandoned, found by authorities, and assigned a legal, estimated birthdate. Though with babies’ ages it’s hard to guess too far from the truth, my acknowledged age has always been a legal fiction, and I think that that has predisposed me not to regard it as hard fact, determinant, or interesting. (What age I “feel” like is largely dependent on the way I get slotted into systems?) That’s also one reason I’m not interested in horoscopes.
Do you feel old for your age? Young for your age? Just right? Are you in step with your peers?
When I was little, my mom and grandma subscribed to a lot of women’s magazines that insisted on the fabulousness of being in your thirties, forties, fifties, sixties, with lots of beauty and sex tips for being fantastic forever. I read them voraciously, and so when I was, like, nine, I decided that I would always drink a lot of fluids and lift things properly so my back was in good shape for lots of elderly sex, etc. I believed that my forties to sixties would be the most vigorous and exciting years of my life, and that my seventies to nineties would be for extending the glory with more moisturizer, and that all of it would be prime.
When I was roughly three months old, I was abandoned, found by authorities, and assigned a legal, estimated birthdate. Though with babies’ ages it’s hard to guess too far from the truth, my acknowledged age has always been a legal fiction, and I think that that has predisposed me not to regard it as hard fact, determinant, or interesting.
What I didn’t know then, but do know now, is how much the idealization of any “prime” is based on ableist, misogynistic, racist, and classist assumptions about vigor, strength, and success. (Also, I hadn’t yet read Muriel Spark and gotten the prime = FASCISM! equation yet, but that’s something else.) I understand wanting positive thinking to counteract stereotypes of aging, but I’m not sure that the “prime” idea matches the reality of anybody I know who isn’t immensely privileged. In the past five years I’ve swung from living a fairly marginal life, toward stability and the aforementioned immense privilege. Simultaneously, I’m in a recovery stage, where I feel a lot better but also have a pretty low bar set for energy and vigor. I don’t feel fabulous; I feel lucky to be alive.
I think a lot of people feel this way, among my peers, and these most recent times have made it obvious how much of the exhaustion in our lives is systemic, trauma-induced, situational, and mediated by what support systems we do or don’t have. And I see it all the time in my students, who are mostly barely in their twenties. So when I feel stereotypically “old,” meaning exhausted and overextended, I think that this isn’t age, but the cost of survival. It’s not a state of mind, but a state of being a vulnerable person in a fucked-up world, and sometimes that also correlates with the particular vulnerabilities that can come with age.
God, this is dark. I think I’m gonna pivot now.
What do you like about being your age?
I like having been alive long enough to know for a fact that people can change and transform who they are over and over and over again, and to know that I’ve potentially got many years left to keep doing that. I also enjoy my inner Auntie Mame—I think it comes out when I’m teaching.
When I was little, my mom and grandma subscribed to a lot of women’s magazines that insisted on the fabulousness of being in your thirties, forties, fifties, sixties, with lots of beauty and sex tips for being fantastic forever. I read them voraciously, and so when I was, like, nine, I decided that I would always drink a lot of fluids and lift things properly so my back was in good shape for lots of elderly sex, etc.
What is difficult about being your age?
I look youngish for my age, am in good health, have fulfilled a lot of societal expectations of my age, and have wonderful friends, so nothing is difficult about it. I’m incredibly fortunate.
What is surprising about being your age, or different from what you expected, based on what you were told?
I didn’t think that at 47 I’d be nesting during a global pandemic with a partner who was eight years younger and wanted nothing more than to rewire all my lighting fixtures and cook me noodles. Dating is a perpetual disaster for most people with the goal of self-preservation, and I didn’t foresee this outcome.
What has aging given you? Taken away from you?
The longer I’m on this earth, the more I prioritize spending the time I have left the way I want, and the better I feel about those choices. As an alternate view of aging and “prime,” when I was a teenager, I read Alice Walker, and in my twenties, M.F.K. Fisher, and the portraits of older creative women in their work really resonated. I wanted the lives they described, with cooking for friends, painting and collecting friends’ paintings, writing books, growing plants. So for a long time, that’s been my model for the good life, and I’m less and less interested in experiences that don’t contribute to it, or wasting my time on nonsense.
How has getting older affected your sense of yourself, or your identity?
I woke up the other day with a lot more white growing at the part in my hair, and felt like Cruella de Vil. It was awesome.
I started calling myself middle-aged when I was forty. I was surprised a bit (but not a lot) how many people were made uncomfortable or angry by this, because “middle-aged” wasn’t a term they wanted to embrace for themselves or have reflect on their own identities.
What I didn’t know then, but do know now, is how much the idealization of any “prime” is based on ableist, misogynistic, racist, and classist assumptions about vigor, strength, and success.
What are some age-related milestones you are looking forward to? Or ones you “missed,” and might try to reach later, off-schedule, according to our culture and its expectations?
I had grandparents who lived to be very old, and the one I knew best had an extremely difficult old age that reverberated through our family. So when I was in my twenties, I felt strongly that any ounce of wealth or security that came my way had to contribute to a safer, distant future.
In my thirties, when I was a runner and in the best health I’ve ever enjoyed, I had a bad injury that required me to walk with a cane for two years and relearn walking for another two, and resulted in chronic pain and deteriorated health. That shifted my perspectives. Many non-disabled people think of housing and transit accessibility as aging problems, but they are present, pressing challenges for many of us. In my last three apartments, major considerations for me were ground floor/elevators, hall and doorway clearance, and bathroom layouts, because, at the times when I have the good fortune to plan and choose, I don’t want to be trapped in a home that’s inaccessible to my own needs, let alone other people’s.
I had some major life changes in my forties and am starting over—but for the past twenty-five years, I’d say that my ideas about the future have been shaped by an awareness of huge systemic challenges, against which our society offers few solutions except individual wealth. So I see the word “milestone,” and I think, omg, how will I ever contribute enough to my 401k to be able to afford to “retire,” and omg, how fucking lucky is it to have a 401k at all and contemplate a retirement? To have any savings at all is such a luxury.
Getting older hasn’t changed how I think about these things—it just underscores how fortunate I am to be able to prepare in certain ways.
I had some major life changes in my forties and am starting over—but for the past twenty-five years, I’d say that my ideas about the future have been shaped by an awareness of huge systemic challenges, against which our society offers few solutions except individual wealth.
What has been your favorite age so far, and why? Would you go back to this age if you could?
Six was pretty great, because I went to kindergarten and was so psyched to learn to write and paint and meet other kids my age, but I was really frustrated by mandatory naptime. I remember thinking, “I’ve got learning to do! I don’t have time for goddamn naps!” and I lay on my yellow silky blanket and put out my arms cross-shape and felt martyred. Forty-seven is much better, because nobody can force me to take a nap.
Is there someone who is older than you, who makes growing older inspiring to you? Who is your aging idol and why?
I have lots of friends who are older than I and are amazing people, but I hadn’t thought about their being aging idols until just now. But one who comes to mind is the writer Anna Graham Hunter, who works really hard at not only living her best life, but also helping other people live theirs.
I don’t want to do things to feel “young,” I want to feel safe and feel like I’ve done my part to help other people feel safe, too—and that’s about living fully and communitarily in the present.
What aging-related adjustments have you recently made, style-wise, beauty-wise, health-wise?
About four years ago, a good friend gently coerced me into my first yoga class, against which I was extremely resistant. And that night I slept for six hours, which was an improvement on the two hours a night I’d been getting. I hate napping, but I do apparently require space to practice breathing.
What’s an aging-related adjustment you refuse to make, and why?
I’m not sure what the answer is, but I don’t want to try to overcompensate for lost chances in my youth or to try to seem younger. (With that said, I benefit from often being perceived as younger, so I don’t feel as much social pressure to look or behave in certain ways.) Still, I don’t want to do things to feel “young,” I want to feel safe and feel like I’ve done my part to help other people feel safe, too—and that’s about living fully and communitarily in the present.
What’s your philosophy on celebrating birthdays as an adult? How do you celebrate yours?
My birthday is a week before Christmas. In the pre-pandemic days, I used to throw birthday karaoke or dinner parties, often carol-oke with a friend whose birthday was the day before mine. I really like having a birthday around Christmas because of the month-long festivity and socializing and shiny lights and fancy food, and in my mind I don’t separate them; it’s just one big party, and whether it’s for me or for baby Jesus never really matters.
Yes, thank you for articulating what’s wrong with the eternal implied obligation to “stay fabulous” and also the natural right to be exhausted! I’m 56 and I’m pretty good shape but I frankly feel the effects of time and my body has definitely experienced some serious depreciation in terms of how well it will serve me and how much more upkeep I require to do what I need to do! I sometimes resent the pressure to be “prime” or have the best sex if my life in old age or whatever. And I realize that for most people retirement only means unemployment or underemployment due to ageism or exhaustion when they will really need the money.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this post. Thank you.