Reading Cruikshank and Aronson side by side, and then exploring Ceridwen Dovey’s literary perspective, made me realize that ageism shows up not only in language, stories, and institutions but also inside people’s minds. Cruikshank’s treatment of ageism as a social construct, including stereotypes, obsession with appearance, internalized beliefs, and the harmful habit of treating “old” as a single category, gave me tools to name and understand the problem. Aronson brings this analysis into real-life clinic settings, using patient stories to show how cultural assumptions translate into neglected care, poor treatment, and structural neglect. Dovey shifted my perspective further, making me realize that stories matter because they shape what readers expect and what clinicians and communities accept as normal.
Aronson’s patient stories had the greatest impact on me. They reveal how assumptions about aging can become life-changing harms. I recognized myself in some of these examples. During my father’s end-of-life care, I made assumptions about his wishes and deferred to the doctor without truly asking him. It wasn’t until he spoke up that I realized how dismissive our actions had been. Aronson’s stories show how older adults are dismissed, mislabeled as “demented” due to hearing loss, or denied services because of assumptions about frailty. These examples opened my eyes to the harsh realities of aging and the urgent ethical issues that arise when ageist assumptions influence diagnosis, treatment, access, and dignity. Her argument that geriatrics is undervalued and that medical systems treat old age as a problem rather than a stage that deserves its own knowledge and respect made me see advocacy as a core clinical responsibility.
Cruikshank highlights how literature and cultural narratives assign stereotyped roles to older adults and how those narratives support social practices that trivialize and erase elders. Dovey makes a similar point from the writer’s perspective, noting that younger authors often fall back on narrow tropes, reproducing a flattened image of elderhood that readers internalize. Both authors show that representation shapes expectations. Dovey’s essays on how writers imagine old age complement Cruikshank’s call to interrogate the stories that underlie ageism.
Aronson also documents internalized ageism clinically, describing older patients who accept messages of inevitability and therefore do not advocate for better care or alternative options. Many feel they cannot improve or that they are “too old” to act. Dovey similarly observes internalized ageism in middle-aged and older people who report feeling younger than their chronological age and try to opt out of being labeled “old,” reflecting the shame about aging shaped by culture. Both perspectives show internalized ageism as a source of psychological harm and a barrier to empowerment.
Language is another critical part of ageism. Cruikshank shows how labels and categories limit diversity and reinforce stereotypes. Aronson emphasizes how everyday clinical language, rushing explanations, speaking over patients, or prioritizing caregivers, can depersonalize and infantilize older adults. Dovey points out how literary language, such as depictions of comic or eccentric older characters, silently reinforces stereotypes. Combating these linguistic habits requires awareness and deliberate changes, such as speaking directly to older adults, avoiding infantilizing terms, and offering choices whenever possible.
I took this class for one main reason, and that was curiosity. I want to know more so I can choose my social work path. Normally, when you think of social work, you think of families and DFCS. I really wanted another perspective. The most difficult issue raised in these readings is internalized ageism: subtle, long-standing, and often invisible, yet present even in older adults’ own priorities and behaviors. Overcoming it requires more than education; it requires structural change (inclusion in research, better clinician training, and institutional respect for geriatrics) plus relationship work — listening, modeling counter-narratives, and helping people reclaim agency. Practically, I would prioritize everyday communication training for staff, advocate for geriatrics as a respected specialty, and create opportunities for older people to lead storytelling and narrative projects so culture begins to shift from the inside out. I am a firm believer that change starts within; changing mindsets around ageism is the most powerful way to overcome internalized ageism.
Reference
Aronson, L. (2019). Elderhood: Redefining aging, transforming medicine, reimagining life (1st ed.). Bloomsbury Publishing.
Cruikshank, M. (2013). Learning to be old: Gender, culture, and aging (3rd ed.). Rowman & Littlefield.
Dovey, C. (2015, October 1). What old age is really like. The New Yorker. https://www.newyorker.com/culture/cultural-comment/what-old-age-is-really-like
Daphne,
You did an excellent job on this post. I thought all of your analyses of the material was right on and your connections were clear and concise. I have to admit that I enjoyed reading your last paragraph the most – understanding your motivation, and also seeing your willingness to develop tools to advocate for older adults in every setting.
I too am a firm believer in story telling as a potential way to address ageism and internalized ageism. As I worked at Lifespan Resources, the more I learned the stories of our older adults, the more I changed the way I talked to them and dealt with them.
Nice Job.
Dr P