There has been no shortage of commentary about older women’s stake in the 2024 election. On the campaign trail, U.S. Senator-elect Bernie Moreno quipped it is “a little crazy” that women past 50 would vote on the issue of abortion. A resurfaced clip of JD Vance went viral in which he appears to agree that “the whole purpose of the postmenopausal female” is helping to raise children.
There were a few affirmative moments, as well. Former First Lady Michelle Obama delivered a thunderous speech in Kalamazoo calling out women’s health at all life stages and ages, including menopause. The much-debated Iowa poll released days before the election sparked reflection across social media about women over 65 who have lived through a cycle of breakthroughs and then complete reversals of their rights.
Where does that leave 50-something women like us? While we may no longer need reproductive and contraceptive care (though plenty of perimenopausal women do), there are myriad fights on the horizon—from the independence of the FDA, to the allocation of federal research dollars—that directly affect our health and well-being.
As Gen Xers, we often find ourselves smack in the middle of social and political fallout. (No surprise there.) Existential questions loom large: What will this next Trump era hold for our daughters and sons, our future grandchildren?
So, too, do more inwardly focused inquiries: Will the lessons and values we have imparted to our children enable them now, as young adults, to rise to meet the moment our nation faces?
We are friends who met half a century ago, not ironically through our own mothers’ friendship. Today we bond over late night texts that toggle from reminiscing about our 1970s childhoods, to trading memes … to chattering about our families, to offering comfort during tough times.
This election season spurred a flurry of exchanges (all of the above themes salient). Through those messages, it became blindingly clear how much is on the line for so many Gen X women: what it has meant to be a parent during decades punctuated by political discord; what it is like to worry about the lessons our Gen Z kids have absorbed.
While our children were forced to be pros at school shooter drills—deft at hiding in closets and barricading classroom doors—they learned that the ongoing dearth of gun policy is a result of more leaders beholden to power and money than students’ safety.
As daily life came to a screeching halt in 2020, and all children lost so much—connectivity and education, graduations and sports and theater and music and more—they also learned that life is unpredictable, often completely uncontrollable, and that their otherwise upstanding neighbors were the kind of voters who put personal comfort ahead of the common good.
When the Dobbs decision came down in 2022, our daughters surely learned that the Supreme Court majority—and the next president—believe their bodies are not their own, that the state is the decider of their future, and that none of us are safe in this new constitutional order.
Throughout the 2024 campaign, any child with a screen witnessed the Trump camp’s litany of epithets hurled at women, Black people, Puerto Ricans, Jews, Muslims, trans kids, and especially Kamala Harris. Now, as new voters, our children are learning that of the millions who voted to put a sexual predator back in the White House—and cosigned racist, sexist name-calling—it wasn’t just “out of touch” older folks worried about the cost of groceries who cast those ballots, but a growing number of their fellow Gen Zers, largely men. They’ve learned twice over that they live in a country that extols, or at least tolerates, unqualified and dangerous men, affording them opportunities that exceptional women are categorically denied.
Over the years, the two of us have often expressed worry about generational resilience. In a world that is treacherous and unfair, how can we ensure our children keep faith in the promise of justice and democracy—in human decency—and hope and trust in their hearts?
On the “morning after,” as it happens, our own messages veered toward sober determination, pointing one another to examples of women who never stop striving, who won their races, who broke new ground (two Black women serving in the U.S. Senate for the first time!), who lead companies and households, who bravely stand up to abusers. Like so many Gen X women, resilience may well be quietly embedded into our being. We hope we’ve passed that on.
It was a bittersweet text exchange that ended with this, our weary anthem: “I am so proud to have raised such strong daughters. I just wish they weren’t constantly reminded of why they have to be so strong.”
