When I think of my relationship to my mother’s body, I recognize the features or pieces of her that she received from her mother and passed along to me. I see a woman who celebrates her body, insisting on diving off of a diving board for her 60'th Birthday. And I am reminded of all of the comfort her body gave me as a child, and the comfort it continues to give me when I release tension in her arms on instinct as she hugs me.

I think this image is simply stunning on so many levels. My mother is a very private person so I was genuinely surprised and whole-heartedly elated when she agreed to participate in the creation of this portrait…and then through the process we met some apprehension which forced me to reflect on the social narrative of aging as a woman in today’s society. In my darkest days battling the shape of my body with food (or lack their of) and exercise, I would often think….I can’t wait until I’m in my 50’s and 60’s and I can give up this pursuit and eat whatever I want whenever I want. When I interact with women in this age group all I see is confidence and comfort. I assumed that body image just wouldn’t matter anymore at this stage of life.

Then someone once said to me, “I can’t wait until you’re in your 50’s and 60’s and no one will find you attractive anymore.” I recognize that this was said out of anger and from a place of insecurity, but it was like pulling a veil from my eyes and what I saw was horrifying. I wasn’t hurt by the attack against me personally, but I was intensely rattled and angered by the implication this statement had made about women as a whole, aging in today’s society.

I know women in their twenties who get botox injections. I know women who jokingly insist that they are forever 39 when their birthday’s role around each year. And I thought about how many women actually experienced feelings of panic when the pandemic hit and they couldn’t touch up their grey’s at the hair salon.

In traditional Ojibwe culture, the word for a female elder is Mindimooye, which literally means the one who holds us together. Needless to say I prefer this word over the words “old woman”. Traditional culture reveres aging as one of life’s greatest gifts. That life has 4 seasons and the goal is to experience all of them. I personally am still in Summer as I raise young children. My mother is in Fall as she admires her harvest and the abundance she’s created reaching the height of her career, reflecting on the ways in which she’s contributed to her community, and watching her children spread their wings. The goal is to see Winter where you can barely crush a raspberry in-between your gums.

As women, our bodies undergo beautiful life transitions. From our menstrual cycles to pregnancy to menopause. And yet pregnancy, the toll it takes, and the joy it brings….this transition and the physical and emotional nature of it, is the only transition that we discuss publicly with each other and with men without shame or embarrassment.

We don’t secretly rejoice at the discovery of our first grey hair like we do at our first pubic hair. We don’t celebrate our “laugh lines” as physical reflections of how many times we’ve laughed in our lives. We don’t hold private or public celebrations of the stage of menopause, instead we try to deny or hide its onset. We don’t view it with gratitude, as a beautiful milestone we’ve made in our long journey. We don’t celebrate it as a new beginning. Instead we mourn an ending. We don't see the transitions of a woman’s body as sacred, and we haven’t rewritten the narrative to assert that aging is beautiful. But what if we did?

Exhibitions:

September 1-4. 2022 “Boom” Focus Art Fair Invitational, Carrousel du Louvre, Paris France

March 30 - April 30, 2022 ”Rebellion” Invitational @ Gallery Azur, Madrid, Spain

Sept. 10 - 12th, 2021 Invitational Exhibition,“International Contemporary Art Fair: Art3 Paris Expo Paris, France