This is 64: Feminist Sex Writer Susie Bright Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire
"I had a COVID wedding last year, which was hilarious. So I got to be a newlywed at 63. It was awesome."
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, celebrated pioneering feminist sex writer Susie Bright responds.- Sari Botton
How old are you?
I’m 64 today.
Is there another age you associate with yourself in your mind?
Yes. My current age always seems like a sharp surprise to me, as if someone bumped into me on the street while I wasn’t looking.
When I was prepubescent, I remember longing to be 16, then longing to be 27, and again longing to be 30—all the way to longing to be post-menopause.
If you do associate your current self with a particular age, what is it?
This question is a popular one to ask women. You don’t often hear a male public figure asked what “age” he is, in his mind. There’s something infantilizing about it—but also imaginative.
I was first posed this question, “What is your inner age?” when I was a teenager. Not a lot of years to consider! I answered, “7” For some reason, that’s the age that has stuck with me, even though it hardly takes in my entirety.
When I was prepubescent, I remember longing to be 16, then longing to be 27, and again longing to be 30—all the way to longing to be post-menopause.
I also wanted to celebrate the age my period would stop, and really notice it. (I didn’t. Rats!)
I have often imagined my death at 70, and how the last few years before 70 would be of great liberation and freedom. I still hope that's true, but I’d better GET ON IT.
Why do you think your “age in your mind’s eye” is so meaningful?
The reason I lit upon 7 as my internal age is because it was the year I remember intellectual discovery, real sensitivity, and perceptions that were entirely my own, not my mothers or anyone else’s. And I not only had those thoughts, I could reflect upon having them. I could step outside myself.
I had some physical freedom I didn’t have before; I walked to school by myself and went to play out in unsupervised meadows and orchards. I learned to swim on my own, and just holding my breath underwater was wonderful.
Age 7 was the last year I didn’t wear glasses. I didn’t realize how fearfully nearsighted I was, but I had such a vivid “close-up” world.
I hadn’t had my life conscripted by school. I had a kind and artistic grade school teacher who could see I was engrossed in an inner world. I was new to town and didn’t yet know very much about “having friends.” I had a troubled life at home, some real violence and awful threats and suspense about “what will happen next?”
In a sense, that was the beginning of my intellectual digging, “Why is this happening? Is it me? Is it Momma? What is really going on?”
The reason I lit upon 7 as my internal age is because it was the year I remember intellectual discovery, real sensitivity, and perceptions that were entirely my own, not my mothers or anyone else’s.
Seven was also the Catholic Church age of “first communion” and “first confession,” which frankly, were the beginning of the end. I had such a lovely relationship talking to “god” on my own, and I had been thrilled to think it was going to become more deep, because of these first rites. Instead, the rituals were shallow, about as non-spiritual as you could get! Still, 7 was the last age I had a personal relationship with a “force outside of me” that I had faith in, and it was a comfort to me.
At 7, I had very little notion of my appearance, which was a good thing. I admired the shine of new leather shoes, and all kinds of color and glitter, but those were external. I had no control over what I wore, (no kid did in my era) nor was I “watched” by adults or other children. I was a plain sparrow. I had no idea what it was like to be a spectacle, or the “cute” child that others long to touch and fuss over. Hey—I was attracted to the “cute” ones too! I remember wanting to touch the hair of the prettiest girl in class, her perfect shiny curls and fluffy dresses.
It never occurred to me to be viewed myself, one way or another. I was on the outside of that world, looking in, and it was a kind quiet space as well as a voyeurism.
When people ask me about getting older, “Do you feel invisible as an old woman?” I do comprehend what they mean, but since I was “invisible” at many different ages and times, it’s neither novel nor entirely undesirable.
I didn’t think I could say this much about being 7, but I just did. You can see why it had a lasting impression.
Do you feel old for your age?
Yes, oddly, I still do.
It’s not as lonely as when I was a kid and felt like I could only relate to people ten years older. It’s not that bad. I have plenty of peers now. But because I have lived a lot of places and known a lot of people, lived many different lives—it’s maturing. It ages you. In a good way!
I can be as excited, joyful, and faithful as a child, also as despondent and hopeless as a teenager on the rag. I can be as flirtatious as a 20-something, as determined as a 30-whatever. All those moments come to me easily. It’s just my make-up.
I notice it’s harder *now* for me to find elders to ask for guidance, or a good laugh. Not only do they have to be older than me, and in good health, they have to have been through some very eccentric mills themselves. I can’t find them easily, it’s the needle in the elder haystack.
It’s so hard to lose the few older mentors I have now. I always feel like I didn’t pay enough attention while they were around.
Do you feel young for your age?
Yes. I also feel young for my age. I can act like a kid, in both glee and frustration— impetuous that way.
I can be as excited, joyful, and faithful as a child, also as despondent and hopeless as a teenager on the rag. I can be as flirtatious as a 20-something, as determined as a 30-whatever. All those moments come to me easily. It’s just my make-up.
I was told my Grandpa Bright was a great enthusiast of wonderful new things and people who came into his world. My dad was like that too—always a thrill to learn something, or make an inspirational acquaintance. It's a youthful trait.
Are you in step with your peers?
In my little counter-culture milieu, yes.
In the greater American populace, no. I always hoped those two groups would draw closer, and perhaps the Great Panny will do that.
What do you like about being your age?
Hindsight.
Because I was once a sex symbol of sorts, (the kind with glasses), I still get a lot of fan mail written as if we’re all prisoners of teenage hormones, with a general fertility hysteria about “Will I be loved? Will I get laid? Am I normal?”
What is difficult about being your age?
Health hassles, encroaching physical disabilities that have no “cure.” Wondering what it would be like to have a day without physical pain and physical awkwardness. *I hate it.*
What is surprising about being your age, or different from what you expected, based on what you were told?
I knew physical limitations and health concerns were the big BANG, but I suppose I thought it happened all at once, or with a big warning sign. Instead, one day you wake up and realize you haven’t been able to use your right foot or your left pinky for months and it’s unlikely you ever will. Your tummy hurts. Whatever. It’s attacks from every side. You spend a good deal of your day doing “workarounds” to physical hassles.
What has aging given you?
Perspective, stories, poise. Wisdom up the wazoo. Patience, which I thought I’d never have.
What has aging taken away from you?
Physical freedom, and *bounce.*
How has getting older affected your sense of yourself, or your identity?
I’m an author who started writing publicly in my 20s. Some of my newer readers are finding those early books now, and they write to me as if I am still that age, (23!) and sensibility, even though they can count as well as I.
Because I was once a sex symbol of sorts, (the kind with glasses), I still get a lot of fan mail written as if we’re all prisoners of teenage hormones, with a general fertility hysteria about “Will I be loved? Will I get laid? Am I normal?” I have compassion for those questions, but most of them are framed in an age that passes a lot more quickly than you’d think. The answers are “yes,” “yes,” and “yes,” but no one believes those answers until it doesn’t matter anymore.
Most of what I think about today has to do with mortality, legacy, ability, viability. HA!
I have never had anyone say to me, “I love looking into your beautiful eyes” until just last month. My eyes seem larger and deeper, more colorful, as my facial structure has changed.
What are some age-related milestones you are looking forward to?
My age-related goals are very pedestrian. I look forward to the age I can go on Medicare!
I look forward to any entitlements I might receive for being old. That would be great. This country is barbaric in that respect. Economic insecurity is something I’d like to never think of again, but unfortunately in the US, we treat the old with sadism.
I also look forward to turning the age where I definitively know what I want to do with the time I have left. I find myself still indecisive. I want to make a bold decision. When will that be? Maybe 2022?
Did you “miss” certain age-related milestones that you might try to reach later, off-schedule, according to our culture and its expectations?
I “made up for lost time” much earlier in my life. I threw parties, (which I always dreamed of) and took up celebrations I never had when I was a kid. I made Christmas fun. That was all huge at the time.
I learned to drive later than most. I became a mother when I wanted to. I had a COVID wedding last year, which was hilarious. So I got to be a newlywed at 63. It was awesome.
I am at the age where I realize there are some things I’ll likely never get around to. I’ll die too soon, or face restrictions that are too big. Things like the travel and language and education—I always wanted what my parents had in that respect. It’s weird to think certain windows are closed, but I am not sunk over it. I live vicariously quite well.
What has been your favorite age so far, and why? Would you go back to this age if you could?
My memory for distinct years is so bad, I can’t answer that question factually.
I certainly have memories that I love to return to. I like seeing old photos that remind me of special times and frames of mind. That artistic visitation is more than enough.
My aging idols, my mentors, have all died in recent years: Betty Dodson (just this past year), Honey Lee Cottrell, my father Bill Bright, and Sally Binford. They were the ones who shared confidences with me about their aging, and my questions about it.
Is there someone who is older than you, who makes growing older inspiring to you? Who is your aging idol and why?
My aging idols, my mentors, have all died in recent years: Betty Dodson (just this past year), Honey Lee Cottrell, my father Bill Bright, and Sally Binford. They were the ones who shared confidences with me about their aging, and my questions about it.
I think Sally is the one who put the bee in my bonnet. She thought ahead about death.
Honey Lee was my first long-term relationship, and she just happened to be 13 years older than me, so I saw up close how she evolved, from 37 to her 60s. She had so many friends her own age, too. I hung on their words, and I wish I’d even hung on some more.
I saw Betty more than a year ago at her apartment, on a rainy night in NYC. Like the other people I mentioned, I knew *in the moment* it was the last time I was going to see her, the last hours. I knew it was the last time. There is nothing more bittersweet in the whole universe.
What aging-related adjustments have you recently made, style-wise, beauty-wise, health-wise?
They are endless! I am very busy with the aging changes!
It’s like being a tot all over again. Your skills and abilities, your energy, is changing every day. Except it’s going downhill. HA! What you did, how you lived, last month, probably isn’t working this month, and it certainly won’t be next year.
My style and beauty changes are the stuff of oldster blogs. It’s actually a source of humor, the cliches. You become obsessed with comfort. “Why did I never notice that jeans hurt?” Your skin, and its moisture and plumpness, its smoothness, become of GREAT interest. Your hair texture changes and you’re puzzled. What do you do with it now?
Colors look different on you. You’re dressing a new person. You become a huge fan of scarves and gauntlets and signature jewelry. Really, I have like 10 scarves from museum gift shops I want RIGHT NOW.
Your eyes change, their appearance. I have never had anyone say to me, “I love looking into your beautiful eyes” until just last month. My eyes seem larger and deeper, more colorful, as my facial structure has changed. Your collagen and estrogen retreat, your complexion changes, and your eyes simply “pop,” for the first time, in my case.
I would wish, like a genie, to be as slim as I was in my youth, duh. But here’s something you say to yourself when you get old, and it is a factual comfort: “Eventually I will get cancer and lose weight so dramatically, I will miss my curves and soft mounds. Enjoy it while it’s here.”
Health. That is the whole ball, right there. Much tougher than style. I changed my diet and eating and couldn’t go back if I wanted to. Getting a decent night’s sleep is a holy grail. Fresh air and exercise are a privilege and I hate to have them taken away for any reason. I do a LOT for my health and am mad as hell it is like rolling a boulder uphill. I would rather be a sloth and abuse myself, but frankly, that hurts even worse. Curses!
I am at the age where I realize there are some things I’ll likely never get around to. I’ll die too soon, or face restrictions that are too big.
What’s an aging-related adjustment you refuse to make, and why?
My adjustments have all been challenges of my body not behaving as I wish. —Losing strength, flexibility, enjoying the absence of pain. I wish I could refuse these changes, but it’s not under my control!
On the other hand: Intellectually, emotionally, how I perceive and express things, I don’t feel inhibited at all, and I never will.
What’s your philosophy on celebrating birthdays as an adult?
Do it.
Do it.
Do it!
It feels great to be loved and remembered with fondness.
How do you celebrate yours?
Parties, outings, presents, exchange of greetings, all of it! I want to ask all my friends to sing the triumphant Beatles love song, “When I’m Sixty-Four” to me this year.
I hope the sun comes out. It often does.
Fantastic!! So much of this resonates. And I'm reminded to really lean into those relationships with my elders and mentors -- queer women in their 60s and 70s (to my 40s) who are modelling lives filled with joy and connection, as well as offering cautions about the kinds of losses and health/body calamities that come to us all. Susie Bright, what an icon, in this piece you remind me of some of my most beloved friends, and I can hardly think of a higher compliment.
What resonated most was your comments about losing the few older mentors left. Not just the hands-on mentors, the teachers and early editors, but the ones who were (and are) mentors of influence, the ones who I would read as a teenager or college student and later get to know more or less, people whose style and opinions helped me develop my own as a writer/critic. They are aging, dying, or with serious ailments, and the sadness feels very personal. On a "brighter" note, happy birthday!