Aging Unapologetically: Reclaiming beauty, power, and freedom in a culture that tells us to disappear

Sacred Feminine Aging: Wisdom, Sexuality, Visibility, Invisibility, Power

There’s a quiet reckoning that comes in midlife. Not just with time, not just with aging—but with how we’ve been seen, and how we want to be seen now.

Aging as a woman in this culture is complex terrain. We’re taught from our earliest years that being sexy and desirable is currency, and when that starts to shift—when heads stop turning and the attention we used to command no longer shows up in the same way—it can feel like a loss of power. But what if it’s not a loss at all? What if it’s actually an initiation into deeper, more potent forms of power?

I remember reading a story years ago about a woman who returned to a part of Chicago she used to frequent when she was younger. She shared with a friend how strange it was that the men there weren’t noticing her anymore—no whistles, no flirtation, no second glances. “It must be that men have changed,” she said. Her friend gently replied, “Maybe it’s not the men who’ve changed.”

That moment gutted her. The realization that she was no longer "turning heads" sent her into a depression. Her aging body no longer invited the kind of validation she’d unconsciously come to rely on.

Reading that, I felt the sting in my own body. I’d had that moment too. I remember going to a dance gathering in Boulder in my mid-40s. I'd always been someone who thrived on attention—Leo moon, lifelong performer, someone who wore my beauty and charm like familiar tools. But that night, I felt invisible. A wallflower. Surrounded by beautiful, trendy 20- and 30-somethings. No one noticed me. No one cared.

I told myself I didn’t belong in scenes like that anymore. But inside, I was hurting—not just because I wasn’t being seen, but because I had never fully examined how much of my identity had been tied to being seen in a certain way.

When I shared this with an older woman friend—20 years my senior—she smiled and said something that changed me.

“Isn’t it great?” she said. “I just love being a wallflower now when I go to events.”

Her joy was sincere. She wasn’t mourning anything—she had found freedom in it.

Beauty, Aging, and the False Promise of Invisibility

In a culture that worships youth, many women fear becoming invisible. We’re bombarded with anti-aging products, botox ads, and messages that tell us our desirability has an expiration date. But what if visibility is not about being sexy or youthful—but about being fully ourselves?

For most of my life, I sought validation through how I looked. I went to college for fashion. I wouldn't even leave the house without makeup. I loved getting dressed up and being admired—even if, once approached, I’d often shy away from conversation. My mother, to this day, refers to makeup as her art form. “You’re beautiful without it,” she says, “but you’re gorgeous with it.” It used to drive me crazy.

So, of course, I rebelled.

When I became a mother—of a son and a daughter—I threw it all out. No shaving, no makeup, no haircuts. It was empowering for a while—until it became another box I had to fit into. I eventually softened. One day, after years of natural living and a dissolving marriage, my ex suggested I try shaving and maybe wear a little makeup again. At first, I laughed. Then I tried. And to my surprise, it was fun.

Now? I wear makeup when I feel like it. I shave when I want to. I just got a new haircut that I love. And I also feel beautiful when I’m in my natural state. The difference is, I’m no longer trying to perform beauty—I’m reclaiming it on my own terms.

Pamela Anderson and the Power of Showing Up Bare

Rarely do I watch movies, but something led me to the Netflix documentary Pamela: A Love Story. I remember her from the 90s—flawless, unattainable, someone I could never look like (cue sisterhood jealousy). But what I saw in that film was a woman stripped bare—not just of makeup, but of illusion. Vulnerable. Powerful. Honest. I fell in love with her.

She was silly and real, and clearly taken advantage of when she was younger. She never had a chance to just be. And here she was, finally showing up for herself—her true self.

A clip started circulating recently of her attending red carpet events without makeup. I was thrilled. While I’ll admit her hairdo in the reel was a little odd, I thought she looked just fine—a natural beauty. And what was the public’s response?

“She looks like an ugly grandma.”
“This must be a publicity stunt.”
“Why is she doing this?”

Oh my Goddess… how did being a grandma become an insult? Why is aging still being equated with worthlessness, invisibility, or shame?

Pamela explained that she simply wanted to be who she really is when she’s not acting. She wanted to feel free and beautiful from her own heart. She said when she’s playing a role, she can play a part. But when she’s just being herself, she wants the freedom to be real.

And I believe her.
This is not a publicity stunt.
This is a reclamation.

And I’m even more in love with her now.

She’s showing the world what it means to age without apology, to defy expectations, and to redefine what beauty can be. Hopefully, she’s making a dent—a big one—in how women are seen and treated as they age.

Sacred Feminine Aging Is a Call to Freedom

More of us need to step up.

I want to ask you—when was the last time you did something that went against the expected? When was the last time you let your truth spill out even if it made others uncomfortable?

Isn’t it kind of boring to act the same all the time?
Where is our singing? Our dancing? Our unpredictability?

If we truly believe we’re moving toward a future shaped by Divine Feminine values—where we honor the Earth, our wisdom, our softness and strength—then why are we still scared?

How do we reclaim our wildness? Our expression? Our sacred irreverence?
And how do we begin listening to the real elders and wise women around us?

I write this because I’m at the edge of that very shift.
I’m asking myself these same questions.
And I’m tired of being afraid of how I’ll be perceived. Of rejection. Of not being "enough."

Because eventually, we stop caring.

And that, my friends, is one of the most glorious parts of aging. The freedom of not giving a damn. The thrill of doing something outrageous because it feels good in your bones.

Watch Pamela’s documentary.
Reclaim a part of yourself you’ve been hiding.
And do something bold, wild, and completely unexpected—today.

Letting go is spiritual work. It’s ancestral healing. It’s reclaiming sovereignty over your space and your story.

I feel like I’m reclaiming me—the woman who’s emerging from the layers of old dreams, roles, and responsibilities.
She’s still wild.
Still wise.
Still here.

And she doesn’t need a storage unit—or anyone else’s approval—to carry it all.