Cruikshank’s explanation of how our culture views being “old” as a negative category, not just a stage of life, and a stigma that devalues people was the paragraph that most resonated with me. I had previously assumed that everyday interactions were neutral, but this framing of oldness as a social category to be avoided caused me to rethink. Cruikshank demonstrates that ageism is more than just jokes or sympathy; it affects workplace culture, family dynamics, and media representations in ways that gradually undermine dignity. Aronson made that vague idea real with his examples. Her experiences, particularly the story of standing up for her father when others disregarded his grievances or downplayed his needs, demonstrated the actual repercussions: a loss of freedom, a decline in the standard of care, and even potentially fatal mental failures. The stakes were immediately apparent after reading Aronson: ageism affects clinical judgments, resource allocation, and whether older individuals are heard when they speak. It is not just about using bad language. What I learned about aging practice: As a student and a social worker, I need to consider how my own assumptions or organizational habits can reduce the value of older clients in addition to their obvious requirements. Engagement must go beyond symptom checklists and emphasize rights, voice, and dignity.

Cruikshank brings attention to the ways that popular culture and literature portray elderly people as either charming antiques or miserable burdens. The recurrent literary device of the “invisible” old character, whose inner life is disregarded by the storyline and other characters, is one iconic example she highlights (and others have verified). This is reflected in Dovey’s literary lens, which examines authors who either address or maintain those silences. When Dovey looks at modern fiction that views aging as an individual’s decline, for example, she demonstrates how characters’ needs and feelings fall apart and are written into the margins. In summary, Dovey shows how the stereotype is created and kept in the imaginative landscape novels and stories, while Cruikshank characterizes the stereotype in sociological terms. Together, the two interpretations demonstrate how ageist frames are primarily fostered by cultural texts.

 Aronson’s description of her father demonstrates internalized ageism, which occurs when elderly people internalize negative cultural  messages about aging and apply them to themselves. Because he had internalized the idea that complaints are “just part of getting old” or that growing older equates to losing one’s assertiveness, he occasionally minimized his own needs or accepted dismissive medical answers. That resignation has the power to crush criticism and normalize abuse. In literary characters who assume and embrace societal invisibility, Dovey demonstrates internalized ageism; their self-concepts change as they adjust to society’s low standards. The harmful idea that aging equates to decline and a lessened right to care and respect is the same in both situations. Because internalized ageism might manifest as lack of interest, a reluctance to complain, or a reluctance to seek services, practitioners must identify it and gently address it by validating competence and rights.

According to Cruikshank, “elderspeak,” simplified speech, pet names, or baby talk is a subtle but common type of derogatory language. The “language of death,” or how society and doctors understand aging in terms of illness and decline, is a distinct language phenomenon that Aronson explains. Older characters are reduced to metaphors of decay by literary diction, according to Dovey. Yes, I have witnessed this in action. I’ve heard caring staff members use terms like “sweet old Mr. X” or rationalize troublesome behaviors with “He’s just old now” in school-based referrals and caregiver meetings. That type of discourse instantly constrains our understanding of capacity and agency . After these readings, I can see how such wording can influence treatment decisions and gradually lower expectations, something I had overlooked earlier as “polite” language. I now make an effort to use respectful, person-first language in my practice and gently correct infantilizing terms when they are used.

I enrolled in this course because I want to engage with senior citizens and become an advocate who does more than just manage diagnoses; I want to improve their daily quality of life. Internalized ageism (and the institutions that perpetuate it) is the problem that I struggle with the most. It is challenging because it is self-reinforcing: progress is stagnant and emotionally difficult since older persons, their families, and physicians frequently accept low expectations. In practice, I would concentrate on advocacy and purposeful language to get past this. In every engagement, I will provide an example of polite, competence-focused communication by refraining from using words that diminish ability or independence. I will be able to emphasize each client’s abilities, preferences, and sense of agency in care planning by using a strengths-based assessment approach. Additionally, by offering short training on identifying ageism and proposing alternatives to elderspeak, I would promote continuing education for staff members and caregivers. It will be crucial to empower clients through collaborative goal-setting and decision-making, and I would recognize and applaud these initiatives to support organizational culture change. Last but not least, I would support structural changes, such as laws that encourage advance care planning, offer adaptive assistance like mobility and hearing aids, and guarantee staffing levels that for meaningful interaction and listening.

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). What Old Age is Really Like. The New Yorker. https://www.newyorker.com/culture/cultural-comment/what-old-age-is-really-like