Is Menopause the New Sexy?
Originally published in NZ Herald.
Perimenopause has started to emerge as a theme in the TV shows, films and books I’m consuming. Has it always been there - hidden by its irrelevance to a younger me? In my teens and 20s, menopause never felt like something that would actually reach me. It was a distant abstraction. I knew it was a part of womanhood; I’d seen Mum fanning herself through hot flushes and Dad attributing her emotions to “menopause”.
My thirtieth birthday was the first time I felt slapped in the face by mortality. In the days leading up to it, I was confident I’d breeze through this milestone free from fear, insecurity or disempowering narratives. I had transcended the shackles of being “past my prime.” I was “thirty, flirty and thriving”!
But just a few weeks into my 30s, I found myself in the throes of a quarter-life crisis - questioning my relationship and panicking about the infuriating lack of clarity I felt about whether to breed, while the ticking of my biological clock grew louder. All of a sudden, life didn’t feel infinite anymore. Time felt scarce, and my sense of feminine value and desirability seemed inseparably tied to my age.
Now, at 33, I’m not yet experiencing menopause or peri-menopause. I can’t write to you from the wisdom of personal experience. Instead, I am a humble student, finding myself increasingly curious about life and sexuality in midlife and beyond - albeit a little concerned that delving into this topic might somehow hasten menopause's arrival.
It’s clear that the cultural conversation is changing. I’m deeply grateful to the women ahead of me who are redefining menopause. Rebelling against the ideas that menopause is a dry, desireless and hysterical time. They’re creating narratives that make the future feel less like a loss and more like a new, exciting, even sexy chapter.
The changing culture is evident in books, film, and television. Shows like Grace and Frankie that explore the complexities of later-life intimacy and sexual liberation, while Emily in Paris presents Sylvie Grateau living her sexual life with unapologetic sovereignty and confidence. These are two examples of many portrayals that are chipping away at the societal narrative that women "expire" after a certain age, helping to normalise the idea that women, regardless of their stage in life, continue to have complex, meaningful relationships with their bodies and desires.
We’ve come a long way in the last decade alone. In Sex and the City 2 - a 2010 film that is far from a cinematic masterpiece (unless you're a die-hard SATC fan like me) - Samantha Jones refuses to let menopause define her or diminish her sexuality. She confronts changing hormone levels with determination and suitcases full of creams and supplements. While her journey celebrates agency and control, it left me with a lingering fear: Do we only get to hold onto our sexuality if we manage to preserve our youth? Sounds expensive.
This idea was challenged in Coralie Fargeat’s 2024 shockingly relatable horror film The Substance. Demi Moore plays a fading celebrity dismissed from her TV show due to her age and waning sexual appeal. She takes desperate measures to reclaim her youth and supposed power, compelling us to ponder: Is striving for unattainable beauty standards a form of self-destruction?
However, beauty standards are evolving, too. Older women are increasingly represented in fashion, beauty, and lingerie campaigns, proudly expressing their sensuality. Pamela Anderson’s transition from the heavily glamorised and objectified image of the ’90s to embracing her natural appearance - even on the red carpet - pushed this envelope even further. Her choice reflects a growing cultural shift, challenging the notion that youth is a prerequisite for visibility, beauty and desirability.
In All Fours - one of the most compelling books I’ve read this year - the author Miranda July challenges stereotypes about women’s sexuality in mid and later life with a bravery and nuance I hadn’t known I was searching for. I highlighted dozens of sections of this book. One passage, in particular, was a revelation:
“As someone treated a certain way their entire adult life because they were voluptuous and pretty, it became a joy to be unseen. But it was a bit of a journey, letting go, and boy how I wish I could tell other women struggling with the fade of their bloom how great life is once you let go of that flower.”
Having been taught that our value lies in the male gaze, I was surprised by how exquisitely liberating it felt to imagine being unseen.
As a Sex and Relationships Therapist, I regularly invite my clients and community to practice separating body image from their self-worth and sexual fulfillment. A key to this separation is embracing pleasure. Pleasure doesn’t care how your body looks. It doesn’t care about your age. It doesn’t even cost a cent. It’s a way to connect with sensuality and eroticism by simply tuning into one or more of the five senses and delighting in them. Pleasure lights us up from the inside out, and to me, living with pleasure is the essence of ageless beauty.
The complexities of aging in a woman’s body in this world will continue to fascinate and challenge me. When menopause first started appearing in TV shows, films, books, and conversations with friends, I would feel a visceral sense of dread and fear for my future. But thanks to the sexy menopausal women around the world who are writing their own narratives and reshaping dominant culture, I now feel genuinely excited about my midlife and golden years. I’m learning that aging involves accepting change and grieving loss, but that new gifts and superpowers emerge if you know how to look for them. It also brings the opportunity to redefine yourself, sowing new seeds into your fertile (but not for reproductive purposes) lady garden.