Desde mi ventana ..., donde el frío me ha enseñado a valorar el calor de los ciclos naturales, contemplo la vejez con un matiz distinto. Llevo dieciséis años habitando este país donde el respeto por el tiempo de cada ser humano parece estar tejido en el contrato social. Aquí, a diferencia de nuestras latitudes caribeñas, no se etiqueta apresuradamente a una mujer como "abuela" solo por el hecho de haber cruzado el umbral de los cincuenta. Existe una distancia diplomática, un respeto por el apellido y la individualidad que permite que hombres y mujeres transiten su jubilación no como un retiro del mundo, sino como la merecida cosecha de lo sembrado. Quizás por eso me cuesta digerir las conjeturas que a veces lanzamos sobre figuras públicas o artistas que, tras décadas de exposición y éxito financiero, deciden dar un paso al costado. ¿Es realmente invisibilidad o es la conquista máxima de la libertad? Como bien sugería el filósofo Séneca en su obra De la brevedad de la vida: "Nadie te devolverá tus años, nadie te devolverá a ti mismo", y quizás esas mujeres solo están recuperando el tiempo que antes le pertenecía al público, disfrutando del silencio y de la autonomía que sus años de esfuerzo les otorgaron.

^{Videollamada con mi familia residente en Caracas.}

Esta reflexión me transporta inevitablemente a los campos de mi infancia en Venezuela. Recuerdo los viajes desde la agitada Caracas para visitar a mi abuela materna. Había una regla no escrita, un código de afecto y soberanía personal que ella custodiaba con celo: si llegábamos gritando "¡abuela!", el silencio era su única respuesta, permaneciendo inmóvil en su silla de mimbre. Pero si, en cambio, la llamábamos "Nana", su rostro se iluminaba como el sol del mediodía y su cariño desbordaba cualquier límite. Ella ya sabía, décadas atrás, que no quería ser definida solo por su rol genealógico; quería ser ella, la Nana, un ser con esencia propia más allá de los títulos impuestos por la descendencia. Esa anécdota me hace pensar que el conflicto de la edad no es nuevo, pero nuestra forma de gestionarlo sí puede serlo. No hemos aprendido del todo a aceptar los ciclos; nos aterra la palabra "jubilación" porque la confundimos con "ineficiencia", cuando en realidad debería ser el sinónimo más puro de "júbilo".

^{Pese a que es primavera, aún se siente la baja temperatura.}

Es necesario cuestionar la mirada externa que intenta decretar nuestra desaparición. En sociedades primermundistas, la estructura social permite ver a los hombres y mujeres mayores como ciudadanos activos, viajeros y aprendices constantes. No son sombras, son referentes. Por eso, al responder a la inquietud del amigo Emilio, me permito sugerir que la invisibilidad es, a menudo, una construcción de quien mira y no una realidad de quien es mirado. Si una mujer de cincuenta decide dejar de trabajar, puede que no esté huyendo, sino llegando finalmente a su destino. Como bien reflexiona @issymarie2 en su post, la energía no desaparece, se transforma, y esa transformación debe ser honrada. La vida no es una línea recta que se corta al llegar a cierta edad, sino un círculo que se ensancha. Hoy decido que mi voz, mis canas y mi historia no son un camuflaje, sino mi estandarte; porque al final del día (hoy miércoles), seamos latinos en el norte o en el sur, el único ciclo que importa es el que nos permite decir, con la frente en alto, que estamos presentes, vivos y plenamente conscientes de nuestra propia luz.

Tu opinión es importante, así que estoy seguro de que en la Comunidad de Holos&Lotus esperamos leer tu perspectiva; para ello, ve a la publicación de la iniciativa y encontrarás todos los detalles:

¿Desaparecen las mujeres de más de 50 años? -Un Síndrome de Invisibilidad- Iniciativa No. 23 de Séptimo Día

^{Portada de la iniciativa.}

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Dedicado a todos aquellos que, día a día, hacen del mundo un lugar mejor.

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How lovely it is to greet you and join you on this journey of words and reflections, especially when the subject touches on the very essence of our own evolution and the way the world decides, sometimes without our consent, how we should be perceived. I throw myself enthusiastically into this endeavour, drawing on my experience of living between two worlds and the wisdom that comes from years well lived.

The thing is, sometimes I stand in front of the mirror and look not for wrinkles, but for the traces of the seasons I have passed through; I wonder at what point society decided that maturity was an act of escapism or, worse still, a fade to black. I have read @emiliorios’s post on this so-called “invisibility syndrome” in women over fifty, and I couldn’t help but find my thoughts wavering between disbelief and revelation. I echo the elegance with which @issymarie2 asserts that reaching one’s fifties is not synonymous with fading from view or bearing the weight of imposed labels. For her—and I fully agree—fifty is a summit offering a privileged view, not an abyss where one’s identity is lost. As I trace the voices of our Holos&Lotus community, I notice a common thread running through the testimonies of so many Latinx people: a constant struggle to redefine personal worth beyond professional utility or aesthetic youth, seeking a balance between being and appearing.

Imposed invisibility or hard-won sovereignty?

From my window ..., where the cold has taught me to appreciate the warmth of the natural cycles, I view old age in a different light. I have lived in this country for sixteen years, where respect for every human being’s time seems to be woven into the social contract. Here, unlike in our Caribbean climes, a woman is not hastily labelled a ‘grandmother’ simply for having crossed the threshold of fifty. There is a diplomatic distance, a respect for one’s surname and individuality, which allows men and women to approach their retirement not as a withdrawal from the world, but as the well-deserved harvest of what has been sown. Perhaps that is why I find it hard to stomach the speculation we sometimes engage in about public figures or artists who, after decades of exposure and financial success, decide to step aside. Is it really invisibility, or is it the ultimate conquest of freedom? As the philosopher Seneca aptly suggested in his work On the Shortness of Life: “No one will give you back your years, no one will give you back yourself”, and perhaps these women are simply reclaiming the time that once belonged to the public, enjoying the silence and autonomy that their years of effort have granted them.

^{A video call with my family living in Caracas.}

This reflection inevitably takes me back to the countryside of my childhood in Venezuela. I remember the journeys from bustling Caracas to visit my maternal grandmother. There was an unwritten rule, a code of affection and personal sovereignty that she guarded zealously: if we arrived shouting “Grandma!”, silence was her only response, remaining motionless in her wicker chair. But if, instead, we called her “Nana”, her face would light up like the midday sun and her affection would overflow all bounds. She already knew, decades ago, that she did not want to be defined solely by her family role; she wanted to be herself, Nana, a being with her own essence beyond the titles imposed by her descendants. That anecdote makes me think that the conflict of ageing is not new, but our way of managing it certainly can be. We have not fully learnt to accept the cycles; we are terrified of the word ‘retirement’ because we confuse it with “inefficiency”, when in reality it should be the purest synonym for ‘joy’.

^{Although it’s spring, it still feels quite chilly.}

We must challenge the external perspective that seeks to write us off. In first-world societies, the social structure allows older men and women to be seen as active citizens, travellers and lifelong learners. They are not shadows; they are role models. Therefore, in response to my friend Emilio’s concern, I would suggest that invisibility is often a construct of the observer rather than a reality for the observed. If a fifty-year-old woman decides to stop working, she may not be running away, but finally arriving at her destination. As @issymarie2 rightly reflects in her post, energy does not disappear, it transforms, and that transformation must be honoured. Life is not a straight line that is cut short upon reaching a certain age, but a circle that expands. Today I decide that my voice, my grey hair and my story are not a disguise, but my banner; because at the end of the day (today, Wednesday), whether we are Latinos in the north or the south, the only cycle that matters is the one that allows us to say, with our heads held high, that we are present, alive and fully aware of our own light.

Your opinion matters, so I’m sure we in the Holos&Lotus Community look forward to hearing your perspective; to do so, head to the initiative’s post where you’ll find all the details:

Are women over 50 disappearing? – A Syndrome of Invisibility – Seventh Day Initiative No. 23

^{Cover of the initiative.}

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Dedicated to all those who, day after day, make the world a better place.

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