60

I generally avoid video content on social media. I don’t bother with Instagram reels, and I don’t even have a TikTok account. I mute or unfollow people who post too many videos on Threads. But I make a few exceptions, and one of them is the We Do Not Care Club. 

If you’re a woman anywhere between the ages of 35 and 75 or so,  and you’re on the internet in any way at all, then you have probably heard of the WDNC Club. A Black woman in her 40s started posting videos of herself, just listing all of the things that she doesn’t care about anymore, and as other women shared their own IDNC stories and videos, the trend grew. The idea is simple - as mature women, we no longer have to care about what others think about our looks, our clothes, our families and homes, our dinner tables, our kids’ college plans, or anything else about our existence. I like these videos. They’re very funny. And these - middle-aged and older ladies who don’t care anymore - are my people. 

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On Tuesday morning, I woke up and realized: I’m 60 years old today! 60! An age that once seemed very old indeed and that now is just my age. 

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How does it feel to be 60? IDK, same as it feels to be 59, I guess - but definitely not the same as it feels to be 50. I’m much better at accepting people, including (especially) myself, as they are. 

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When I was young, I remember hearing from older women that attention from men, a thing that you take for granted if you’re a reasonably healthy average-looking young woman (as I was) is no longer a given once you’re older. “Invisible to men,” they would say. “Once you’re in your 40s, you’re invisible to men.” 

First of all, this is true. It happens in your 50s, really, not so much in your 40s - but it happens. By your late 50s, you’re pretty much invisible to most men except the men you know and live with and work with. The thing is, though, that this new invisibility, which young women are warned of as an impending disaster, is actually a blessing from the Lord Himself. Being invisible to strange men is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.  

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Ten years ago, I probably would have told you with a straight face that I didn’t care about what other people thought of me, but that would have been a lie and a pretty obese lie at that. I worried about everything when I was 50.  Now, I just worry about my kids and my husband and my mother and my work and my bills and the state of the world - but those are all important things. I only worry about important things. The things that I don’t worry about (that I flat-out don’t care about) far outnumber the things that I do worry about. It’s pretty nice. It’s good to be 60.