Special Edition Spring 2024: Figurines, retinol and wrinkles
By Rayan Abdulkadir
Recently I walked into a Sephora and was bombarded with a crowd of young girls swooning over Drunk Elephant products and grabbing at retinol creams and anti-aging creams. I was there to buy some lip balm and saw these children pulling at their skin in the brightly lit mirrors that seemed to expose every existing insecurity, convincing themselves that they might be developing wrinkles or crow’s feet, looking at their dark spots with disgust. While I was staring in awe of such a sight, I began to wonder why they were wearing Lululemon and not bedazzled Justice T-shirts like I was at age 11.
I was cringy at their age. Like super cringy. Some of them were wearing full faces of makeup — which isn’t inherently negative — but when I was in middle school, I wore smudged eyeliner and stole tinted lip gloss out of my mom’s makeup bag.
My parents would drop me off at the mall and hand me $10 to buy a soda and some greasy fast food fries. My friends and I would wander around, giggling while passing the Victoria’s Secret that seems to be in every shopping center.
Where did the time go, and why do 12-year-olds now look like they are mini adults? The in-between from adolescence to adulthood has been almost completely eliminated. I have this great fear of aging, and I find myself watching cartoons and collecting figurines as an attempt to hold onto the last bit of childhood.
It seems there’s a clear contrast between myself and these young girls, who are desperate to be old. I am technically classified as a “young adult” who is convinced that she is “just a teenage girl” and “mentally 15.”
My fear of adulthood began creeping in at age 12, around the same age of those girls in Sephora. Many of my peers in college have been experiencing the same thing. My good friend Leena Abdulla ‘24 (Sociology) and I recently had a meaningful conversation surrounding aging. They provided valuable insight into what it means to be resilient when fear of aging is so prevalent.
When I asked Leena how she was dealing with adulthood, she responded, “I think that growing is a beautiful journey. I used to get scared of it, but the older I get I feel like I carry the parts of my youth that matter. I carry my childlike heart, but the wisdom of my adulthood.”
The beloved Maya Angelou once wrote beautifully in her poem “Old Folks Laugh”: “When old folks laugh they free the world. They turn slowly, slyly knowing the best and the worst of remembering.” This poem reminds us that maybe aging is not inherently bad. It’s a privilege to be able to tell the stories of years past and laugh with joy at the beauty of living.
It is easy to forget that aging is a sign of living: Ewach wrinkle is a year lived, full of memories and experiences; our hands are calloused from holding the ones we love; dark spots are proof of the time we spent in the sun and smile lines are remnants of laughter.
Leena reminds us that our society has constructed aging as bad, saying, “What I do know about aging is that we have set up a society that does not value the elderly. We live in a capitalist society that only values your worth based on what you can produce.” They also pointed out that “women are so afraid of aging because … society has constructed these notions that women do not have value when they cannot reproduce for men, or be of gratification of service to men. We try to be youthful physically, but simultaneously we adultify children.”
We give up on our elderly, and we forget that they exist rather than looking to their wisdom and seeking out their stories.
Leena’s greatest advice is to “be authentic. Everything you do — be authentic, be the realest version of yourself. Don’t worry about aging. Gray hair looks cool.”
You are growing, and your growth will be fueled by experiences and memories, and maybe that means dark spots and gray hairs. Maybe that means being an adult and making adult decisions, but your growth will never be a shame — it will be a privilege.
