1 min read
At 96 years-old, Alice McGinty does resistance training three times a week, travels to Costa Rican jungles, and shows her paintings — work that has grown more vivid and abstract since macular degeneration narrowed her world to color alone. What she is pushing against is quieter than any of that: “It is subtle and unspoken,” she says of the dismissal she feels. “It is a quietness.” McGinty has named something many older people sense but rarely have the platform to articulate — that society’s silence around the later decades of life is its own kind of message, and that refusing to receive it is a form of courage. Perhaps the most striking thing she offers isn’t her yoga practice or her Instagram following, but this hard-won interior shift: “I have learned how to trust myself … perhaps one of the greatest gifts of getting older is realizing that trusting myself isn’t selfish; it is finally becoming someone I can count on.” She is not waiting to be studied, supported, or seen — she is simply, insistently, living.
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