What The Media Taught Me About Turning 30
Ageism, the idolisation of youth and what it means to really live your ‘best life’ …
Words: Natasha Stamos
“Like most people, the beginning of a new decade, in this case my thirties, brought with it a series of expectations, questions and perhaps most unrealistically an anticipation of answers. Popular culture has long influenced our perceptions of self and more than this, influenced who we think we should be. For me, turning 30 signalled this fantasy: I would wear blazers all the time, make a choice between my family and my career, disappear or worse, become ‘tamed’ as a woman or spend the entire time trying not to age at all. All of this whilst I was rocking back and forth like a young Jennifer Garner lookalike, panicked, wanting to be ‘thirty, flirty and thriving’.
Encouraged by shows like Sex and the City and not-as-popular but still present ‘How to dress in your 30s’ or ‘Items every 30-year-old should own’ features, I pictured myself in a blazer and the perfect jeans all the time, no sloppy cartoon t-shirts to be seen. Along with the fact that I would only wear power-shoulders and carry a tote bag, it is this assumption that when we portray ourselves in this way, we have more certainty. As Who, What, Wear said in an article of the same vein, ‘you’re growing up’ and as a result we know ourselves better (supposedly). Sure, this does happen, and you may eschew a mini dress in lieu of some wide leg pants, but the expectation that you must do so and do so with conviction is stifling in itself.
Movies had prepared me that once I turned 30, I would have to make life altering binary decisions such as choosing between children or career, my dignity or my relationship, saving the world or the love of my life. As was the case for Wonder Woman herself Diana Prince. Left heartbroken; Diana Prince is a stark reminder that we must make a sacrifice. The ultimate woman cannot save the world, trust her gut instincts (that she spends the whole movie having to justify) and have Steve. This is a narrative we are so used to, we anticipate the situation, doing the math in our heads that something has to go. She can’t have all of this, which must mean that neither can we.
Jia Tolentino’s essay, Pure Heroine, discusses the disappearance of women once passed their adolescence. Her piece talks about the fact that qualities deemed bearable at some point in a young woman’s life become less so as she gets older, the constant reminder that as we age, we should in fact know better. The more obnoxious versions of our past selves left behind. The beloved Disney Princesses we are enamoured with during our formative years further contribute to this. A quick google shows some of our most popular princesses are 19 (Cinderella), 17 (Belle) and 16 (Ariel) are where their stories end; showing us that the assumption of happily-ever-after is enough to not continue the narrative.
“ I definitely haven’t answered all of life’s questions but am no longer looking for a finite reflection of what I should be or have achieved by a certain age”
The pre-occupation with a woman’s age is nothing new. The recent film Late Night sees Emma Thompson as a faltering television host who reengages with her audience after being honest about how hard it is to be a woman of her age. The audience laughs in understanding as she jokes that she would play Sean Penn’s mother whilst Emma Stone takes the role of his high-school sweetheart. Plastic surgery specials and stars without makeup editions only ever feature women, ignoring the fact that often men get the same treatments. Heralding in 2020 was another social media decade challenge, a soapie magazine posted a picture of Jennifer Aniston, ten years apart yet she looks almost identical. They declared her the winner, signalling that in order to age well, you almost shouldn’t have aged at all.
The bloggers and YouTubers I watch represent a far more diverse experience of success for women than traditional media forms, but it is difficult not to compare my won successes with theirs. It seems I have been too busy consuming their content contributing to a following which has allowed them to purchase said house and start highly successful businesses out of their bedrooms. A tricky scenario given we have built a sense of trust with these influencers, and perhaps we have, unreasonably, put them on a pedestal for their authenticity, further adding to this cycle of what we should and shouldn’t have done by a certain age.
Having said this, the internet and new media forms like Netflix, have allowed us to see an alternative viewpoint to the typical archetypes we have grown up with. More representations of success, what having it all means and an acknowledgment of having your sh*t together looks different to every single person. Gillian Anderson’s role as a vulnerable but strong professional as she navigates life in Sex Education is refreshing in this space. The team at Man Repeller continually question and provide insight into the personal and unique. As does Madeline Dore’s Extraordinary Routines, showing us that we are all just figuring it out. Along with these, podcasts like Elizabeth Day’s How to Fail and Emma Gannon’s Ctrl Alt Delete go behind the scenes, breaking the veil of our own expectations of others, but also ourselves.
Turning 30 has made me realise that these depictions have as much truth as I give them. I definitely haven’t answered all of life’s questions but am no longer looking for a finite reflection of what I should be or have achieved by a certain age. I am given hope by the range of experiences that we see women of all ages sharing. Each of us can be thirty, flirty, and thriving on the terms we ourselves have defined. Pink house and Mark Ruffalo, or not".
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You can find Natasha on Instagram at @onmediainsta or via her website at www.onmediasite.com.