As I made my way to the polling station earlier this year, I ran into my neighbour. “Are you old enough to vote?” she asked. I laughed. “Yes, I’m twenty-eight years old.” I could see the look of disbelief on her face. ‘Wow, I thought you were seventeen!” I wish I could say that was a one-off conversation, but it isn’t. It’s an interaction I have far too often. Despite living in the same area for most of my life, I cannot buy alcohol from my local corner shop without my ID. One shopkeeper even laughed when I tried to buy wine without my provisional driving licence.
We live in a world that is obsessed with looking youthful. Many of my peers have started indulging in Botox, stocked up on anti-ageing creams, or searched for anything that can combat the signs of ageing. Black women, however, are often celebrated for our seemingly magical ability to defy the telltale signs of ageing. While this might not be entirely factual, it’s not just a myth either. Thanks to higher levels of melanin, which helps absorb harmful UV rays, Black and brown skin tends to be less sensitive to sun damage. On top of that, pigmented skin is thought to have a stronger network of collagen fibres, which keep the skin firm, and elastin fibres, which maintain its elasticity and resilience.
When you meet a Black woman, you won’t know if she’s 35, 28, or 45. My mum is in her sixties but doesn’t look a day older than forty-five. I’m sure when I get to her age, I’ll enjoy the perks of appearing young. But, for now, I’d be a little grateful if my Black started to crack just slightly.
Even though I understand that I’m complaining about a non-issue, it can be frustrating when people constantly assume you’re in your early twenties. People treat me like I’m a child until I reveal my age. One of the biggest areas where I feel infantilised is in my dating life. Like many single women, I’ve ditched the apps to try to find love in real life.
Looking young has its difficulties when trying to find a significant other. Just recently, I got chatting with a guy at an event. All went well until I realised he was twenty-five. When I revealed that I am in fact twenty-nine years old he responded, “I like them old.” Thanks! This has been a common occurrence in the past few months.
Dating someone a few years younger than me isn’t the be-all and end-all. It’s the fact that I’ve been approached more by men who are in their mid-twenties than by men in my age bracket or older. Do I look so young that it’s deterring men my age from speaking to me?
In my bid to appear more mature, I like to wear a full face of makeup for nearly every occasion. I find that wearing bronzer and contouring my face helps me appear older. I also tend to look a little bit older when I wear fake eyelashes. So much so that I used to wear fake lashes to work (but I don’t have the energy to do that anymore). I have no issue with my natural face. I feel confident enough to leave the house without make-up. However, I look significantly younger with less make-up on.
It also doesn’t help that I’m naturally slim. Like most Black women who are on the slimmer side, the relationship we have with our bodies is complex. There’s a pressure to be thicker in Black communities. But, I fear that my body type is partly why people assume that I’m younger than I am. Part of my issues with my body is that I always felt like I looked like a child. As I’ve got older, I’ve slowly put on my weight, however I usually wear tight clothing to accentuate my figure.
Speaking to other Black women reaffirmed my anxieties about looking young and the feeling of being constantly infantilised. 33-year-old Kimberly McIntosh, a journalist and author who lives in, London is often mistaken for being in her early twenties. “With an afro, I get mistaken for my mid-late 20s. People in their early 20s mistake me for their age mate until I start talking about my life and it’s obvious I’m a millennial.”
McIntosh shares that she feels the most infantilised at work. She doesn’t feel respected or listened to in external work meetings, especially with Black elders. “They treat me like I’m their niece,” she says.
“If I am assertive, the response can be disproportionately negative, as if I shouldn’t be challenging ‘my elders’. This is very frustrating. I’m not your niece. I’m a professional woman in my thirties trying to do my job. It’s difficult not to be treated as a peer,” she adds.
However, outside of work settings, McIntosh doesn’t have any issue being mistaken for looking younger. “I cared a lot more about my youthful appearance in my teens and early twenties, a time when you’re desperate to be recognised as an adult,” she says. “I had to invent tools to deflect awkward statements from strangers that ‘couldn’t believe my age’ when I was buying age-restricted products, which were uninvited and exacerbated my anxiety that I looked too young.”
Now that she’s in her thirties she’s seen how being read as younger can be a privilege. “As a woman living in a society where youth is prized, I don’t feel the pressure to invest in skincare, Botox, or tweakments. As someone indifferent to traditional markers of adulthood (particularly marriage), being assumed to be younger makes me feel less self-conscious.”
Similar to McIntosh, 28-year-old Victory Goodness, a Marketing Assistant from London says she’s had to work harder to demand respect, particularly in professional settings. “They often treat me as if I’m younger due to my appearance and youthful energy. This can sometimes lead to being underestimated or not taken seriously.”
Actress Charity Muiruri, 32, shares that there have been times when colleagues underestimated her due to her youthful appearance. “The disadvantages of this meant that I was never truly acknowledged or celebrated for my work because it would often be overshadowed by age comments,” she shares.
Muiruri adds: “It also fed into my imposter syndrome because it reinforced the ideas that I wasn’t ready to be in the roles or rooms I was in, despite being qualified to be there.”
A study conducted by researchers Amy Diehl, Leanne M. Dzubinski, and Amber L. Stephenson featured in Harvard Business Review found that younger women under the age of 40 had their experiences and credibility discounted because of their age. “Younger women — and those who looked young — were called pet names or even patted on the head, as one 39-year-old woman reported. Young women also experienced role incredulity,” the researchers explained.
The research called this “youngism” bias which occurs when a person’s age is assumed to be associated with inexperience, incompetence, and immaturity.
Goodness told Unbothered that she doesn’t really have strong feelings about appearing young. “It’s a positive attribute, I suppose, but it’s not something I actively think about. I’m not particularly concerned with beauty standards or ageing, so my youthful appearance isn’t a major factor in my life. It’s just a part of me. Perhaps in the future, looking young will hold more significance, but for now, it’s simply a comment people make.”
However, she thinks it’s odd when people use the phrase ‘Black Don’t Crack’ for Black women in their twenties or early thirties as she believes it seems very premature. We tend to associate the phrase with older Black women, but it appears that Black women in their twenties and thirties feel the pressure to live up to the stereotype. Liza Bilal wrote about the pressures of the phrase and how it can contribute to unrealistic beauty standards.
“Such expectations can be burdensome, creating pressure to conform to an idealised image that might not align with the reality of ageing, an image usually upheld by richer, more visible Black celebs – like the aforementioned – who have access to better skincare, nutrition, and living standards than the average Black person,” Bilal wrote in Bricks Magazine.
Black women who look like their age or older are treated like something is wrong with them. There’s an immediate assumption that that person isn’t healthy or doesn’t look after themselves.
In actuality, being Black doesn’t mean that you will automatically age slower. Eventually, we will all age with some Black women ageing quicker than others. Our skin will sag, sun spots become more common, and we lose volume in our lips. We do age, it just looks differently to our white counterparts
I’m aware that appearing young is a blessing and not a curse. Even though the repeated comments around my age can be irritating, it’s something I’ll have to get used to. Eventually, my Black will crack and I will acknowledge all my grey hairs and wrinkles with grace. Until then, I will continue to bring my ID to the corner shop.
