Women with “expiry dates”: Media’s gendered ageism

While media is becoming an effective mouthpiece for feminism, it is still blatantly comfortable with its ageist tilt

Human life is a strange combination of contrasts and contradictions. This riddle personally hurts me when I consciously look at the clatter and clamour around feminism in recent years. Leaving aside critique and criticism, I really appreciate that certain commercial platforms are also making money and benefiting artists, artisans and skilled workers in the entertainment industry. This is achieved by selling compelling portrayals of abusive power relations, misogyny, exclusion and humiliation of transgender or non-binary people and other minorities from different origins.

As far as the entertainment industry is concerned, it has undergone many changes in our country. From having a single state-owned and controlled PTV, we now have over 100 private TV channels. An interesting phenomenon that has evolved and become conspicuous is the drama and thrill associated with the news channels and current affairs shows. This vignette is not about any particular genre, program or channel, nor is it a complaint against elite capture or the evaporation of truth from the media.

I am concerned that the social development sector and academia are becoming youth-biased, which is different from being youth-friendly or investing in youth leadership. Rather, this is about being unfair to seasoned and mature professionals, side-lining them technically. As always, women without anti-ageing procedures and makeup suffer more due to this yet-to-be-established exclusionary practice and harassment, affecting their self-esteem and professional trajectory. This makes me think about how much of this is caused by the current contrasts in the media, both domestic and global. On one end, the media is becoming an effective mouthpiece for feminism and liberal, progressive voices, irrespective of controversies and authentic representation. On the other hand, the same media is blatantly comfortable with its ageist tilt and continuously shrinking spaces for competent, brainy ageing women in its sphere, especially those who work in front of the camera.

As a former TV producer and documentary filmmaker, I have some understanding of the necessity of visual appeal in the media. However, even in my younger days, when I used to anchor live TV shows, I used to question the objectification of women. Why do women have to be covered in makeup and ornaments? Why do they have to appear fair or thin? Why can male anchors appear without even basic touch-ups? The louder those questions became, the heavier the burden of negative comments, some even directed at my personal life.

Nearly three decades ago, I was a young mother who consciously opted to end her abusive arranged marriage, and was trying hard to remain financially independent. I used to work three to four jobs on minimal wages at different private clinics while also running my own clinic, all the while scanning newspaper advertisements for better opportunities. One day, I came across a job advertisement in Jang Rawalpindi seeking young people to host live television transmissions. After auditioning alongside 400 people, I consider myself fortunate to secure a job as an anchor, hosting the breakfast show Roshan Pakistan. On the same day, when I made my debut on air, I also secured my first regular public health job. Ironically, despite being denied contraception, I became the first trainer in Pakistan for a contraceptive social marketing project.

Out of the initial 400 candidates, two women and two men who were already radio stars were selected and paired. However, one of the male anchors who was paired with me, could not continue after a few episodes. Subsequent male anchors also struggled to last but failed, as anchoring during those days was considered a serious profession, with PTV adhering to standards related to pronunciation, knowledge, and overall persona. Eventually, the second male anchor (now an established anchor) settled in as my co-anchor, gaining viewer acceptance and producers' approval.

During my tenure, two governments were toppled, leading to the ousting of the other three anchors. After months of absence, I was asked to host the show Roshan Pakistan as the first solo female anchor.

The head of current affairs at PTV at the time asked me to host the current affairs show at least three times a week, alternating with the newly appointed anchor. He aimed for a professional anchor presence. I happily accepted this role, as the current affairs shows of that era were notably serious, allowing me to forgo heavy makeup and continuous smiling, unlike the requirements of Roshan Pakistan. I left both positions in 1998 to pursue postgraduate studies.

Reflecting on the past, I must admit that I did not face any physical assault or sexual harassment, which I attribute to luck and the support of Nargis Hashmi, a female executive producer who served as my mentor. She was known for her reserved demeanour and thorough professionalism. I did encounter verbal harassment and taunts, often centred around my round face, short bob haircut and draped dupatta. To sum it up, I was not favoured by the most prominent male producers of that time. Consequently, I was reluctantly included in some special broadcasts, as ironically, their preferred individuals faced difficulty in speaking fluently during live transmissions.

I was not, and am not, alone in this experience. When I was in my early 40s, I received compliments from my local and foreign circles of friends that I could pass on as a 30-year-old. Some wondered how I maintained a youthful look despite consuming high carbs. Eventually, I changed my circle and became almost isolated. I have yet to summon the courage to confront those who tried to intimidate me, not only during my time at PTV but also due to the myths and perceptions surrounding women in media within my other professional spheres.

In a podcast series, Duty Queens, that I independently produced during the peak of COVID-19, I interviewed accomplished women from different fields, including mainstream media. Many confided in me about the discrimination they face as they age. The media seldom promotes brainy women in general and brainy, ageing women in particular. Many women before me and from the newer generations face this torture and insult to this day. The real concern is why there is no noticeable protest from the voices that matter. Why is a size-zero, small-sized belle preferably and usually required to anchor any serious show on national issues? I must record that these young women, too, face a lot that can be summed up as character assassination. How come aged, bald men (not meeting conventional appearance standards) appear in similar shows, either as the anchor or the expert, and never get stigmatised but are revered as subject matter experts?