Why Does "Senior" Feel Like an Insult for Some People?

I recently wrote an article about decluttering that mentioned how letting go of possessions can be emotionally harder when those items hold decades of memories—photos from when your kids were young, your late spouse’s belongings, mementos from a life fully lived.

Someone commented: “Decluttering is no different for seniors than it is for anyone. Ditch the ageist nonsense.”

I sat with that comment for a long time. Not because I was angry or defensive, but because I realized something: we’ve become so afraid of age-related language that we can’t have honest conversations about aging anymore.

And I think that silence is hurting more than the words ever could.

What You’re Really Rejecting

I’ve been selling Healthy Seniors products on Amazon for over seven years, and writing this Substack for about a year now. In that time, I’ve noticed something striking. Some of you embrace the word “senior” without a second thought. Others visibly bristle at it. Some have told me directly: “Don’t call me that.”

I even had people get offended by our logo—an illustrated design—saying it was “too childish.” Like seniors are supposed to be... what, exactly? Serious? Formal? Old-fashioned?

I get it. I really do.

When someone says “I’m not a senior” or “don’t treat me differently because of my age,” they’re not denying their birthday. They’re rejecting what our culture has taught us that age means.

In our society, being called “old” or a “senior” comes packaged with assumptions:

• You’re slowing down and becoming irrelevant

• You’re losing your independence and becoming a burden

• You’re done contributing anything meaningful

• You’re less capable than you used to be

• You’re invisible

• You need to act a certain way—serious, subdued, traditional

No wonder people push back. Who wants to be associated with that version of aging?

Another reader wrote something that really resonated: “I’m 66, and still feel I’m in my 30s, as I’m sure many my age or thereabouts agree. I like the phrase ‘no longer young, but not yet old.’”

I understand this completely. The number on your driver’s license doesn’t match how you feel inside. You’re the same person you’ve always been. You haven’t suddenly transformed into a different species just because you crossed some arbitrary birthday threshold. You’re still allowed to be playful, creative, lighthearted.

But here’s where I think differently: the problem isn’t the word “senior.” The problem is our culture’s outdated, limiting, often insulting narrative about what aging means.

The Middle Ground

That comment about decluttering captures a tension I see everywhere: Where’s the line between acknowledging reality and reinforcing stereotypes?

The commenter was right about one thing: the methods are the same. But context matters, doesn’t it? Sorting through 40 years of accumulation is different than sorting through 10. Deciding what to do with a deceased spouse’s belongings carries different weight than decluttering after a breakup.

Is acknowledging those differences ageist? Or is it just honest?

I don’t think there’s an easy answer. And I think reasonable people can disagree.

But I do think we need to be able to have this conversation without accusations of ageism every time someone mentions age-related realities.

Where I Think the Line Is

Here’s how I try to think about this—though I’m still figuring it out:

Ageist: Assuming a 70-year-old can’t learn new technology
Not ageist: Acknowledging that many older adults didn’t grow up with smartphones and might appreciate patient instruction

Ageist: Talking down to someone because of their age
Not ageist: Using clear language and checking for understanding (good practice with anyone)

Ageist: Deciding what someone is capable of based on age
Not ageist: Recognizing that recovery time often increases with age and planning accordingly

Ageist: Treating all seniors like they’re fragile and helpless
Not ageist: Acknowledging that stamina and physical strength often change with age

Ageist: Excluding older adults from conversations about their own lives
Not ageist: Creating spaces specifically for older adults to connect about shared experiences

Ageist: Assuming someone’s mind is “going” because they forgot something
Not ageist: Recognizing that certain cognitive changes become more common with age and addressing them respectfully

Ageist: Thinking seniors need to be serious, formal, and act “old”
Not ageist: Creating playful, creative, modern content and products for older adults who are vibrant and engaged

The difference, to me, is between limiting people based on assumptions and acknowledging that context and life stage matter.

But I also hear the other side: highlighting age-related differences can feel like you’re saying older adults are fundamentally other, less capable, more fragile. It can feel like you’re putting people in a box they don’t want to be in.

I don’t think either perspective is wrong. I think we’re all trying to figure out how to honor both truths at once.

The Real Ageism

You know what I think IS ageist? The stuff that actually limits and dismisses people:

Doctors who talk to your adult children instead of to you, as if you can’t understand your own health.

Store employees who assume you need help with everything, speaking slowly and loudly as if you’re automatically hard of hearing.

Your opinion getting dismissed in meetings or family discussions because “you’re out of touch.”

Becoming invisible in public spaces—people looking through you rather than at you.

Adult children making decisions about your life without asking what you want.

Companies designing products assuming older adults won’t use them, making things actually harder for everyone.

Being patronized with baby talk or overly simplified explanations when you ask a straightforward question.

Having your very real pain or symptoms dismissed as “just getting older” instead of being properly diagnosed and treated.

Expecting older adults to conform to some outdated image of what “old” should look like—serious, traditional, stuck in the past—instead of recognizing that you’re still evolving, growing, and deciding who you want to be.

This is the stuff that hurts. This is what deserves our outrage and action.

But when we can’t acknowledge any age-related realities without someone calling it ageism—when we can’t discuss age-specific experiences without controversy—we lose the ability to fight the actual problems.

How do you advocate for better healthcare for older adults if you can’t name age-related health patterns? How do you design helpful products if you can’t acknowledge what might be challenging? How do you create community around shared experiences if you can’t name those experiences?

What I’m Still Learning

I don’t have all the answers here. I’m genuinely trying to figure out how to navigate this better.

Part of me thinks: aging does bring real changes—physical, emotional, circumstantial. Acknowledging those changes isn’t ageist, it’s honest. Denying them doesn’t make them go away, it just makes it harder to get the support that could help.

But I also hear: when you keep talking about “seniors” as a separate category with “different needs,” you’re reinforcing the idea that older adults are fundamentally other. You’re contributing to marginalization, even if you don’t mean to.

Both of these things feel true. And I’m not sure how to hold them at the same time.

What I do know is this: I call this publication “Healthy Seniors” intentionally. Not because I think all seniors are the same, or because I’m reducing anyone to their age. But because I believe older adults deserve content, community, and resources designed with them in mind—not as inferior versions of what’s designed for younger people, but as valuable in their own right.

I use age-related language because I think avoiding it reinforces shame about aging. I want to contribute to a world where “senior” is a neutral descriptor like “parent” or “teacher”—just a life stage, not an insult.

I use a playful, illustrated logo because I don’t think being older means you have to be serious and formal. You get to decide who you are and how you present yourself to the world.

But I’m also learning to listen when someone says “that doesn’t feel right to me” or “you’re making assumptions.” Because maybe they’re seeing something I’m missing. Maybe the line I think I’m walking carefully is actually not where I think it is.

What Would Help

I think what we need is more nuance and less defensiveness on all sides.

Instead of “seniors can’t do that” → “some older adults might find that challenging, many won’t”

Instead of assuming someone needs help → asking “would you like a hand with that?”

Instead of generalizing about everyone over 65 → recognizing that 65, 75, and 85 are different stages with vastly different contexts

Instead of avoiding age entirely → acknowledging it while respecting individual variation

And maybe most importantly: making room for people to feel differently about their own aging.

Some people embrace being a senior. They claim the term proudly, enjoy senior discounts, identify with their age group. That’s valid.

Some people resist the label because it doesn’t match how they feel or who they are. That’s also valid.

Both can be true. You don’t all have to feel the same way about getting older.

The Conversation I’m Hoping For

I’m not writing this to prove I was right about that original article. I’m not even sure I was. I’m writing this because I think we need to talk about this more openly.

If the word “senior” bothers you, I genuinely want to understand why. Is it the word itself, or what it represents in our culture? What would feel better?

If you think acknowledging age-related differences is inherently ageist, I want to hear that perspective. Maybe you’ll change my mind.

If you think we’ve gone too far in the other direction—that honest conversations about aging have become impossible—I want to hear that too.

If you have a completely different take I haven’t considered, please share it.

Because ultimately, what I care about isn’t winning an argument or being right. It’s whether we can create a world where aging—however we name it, however we talk about it—comes with dignity, respect, support, and the understanding that getting older is just another part of being human.

Not shameful. Not limiting. Just different in some ways, the same in others, and worthy of honest conversation.

What do you think?

With care,
Diana