Voices from the Quiet Middle
- Angela Chan
- Apr 18
- 2 min read
I spoke with a dear friend recently. She’s brilliant—an executive who once led global teams, managed million-dollar budgets, and built brands from the ground up.
She told me, quietly:
"I think I’ve been aged out. I apply to jobs and hear nothing. I can’t even get in the room. And now, I’m afraid I’ve lost more than a job—I’ve lost my value."
Her words hit hard. Because the truth is… they’ve been echoing in my head, too.
That conversation stuck with me. It’s been eating at me—not just because I care about her, but because I know what that feels like. And it’s taken me some time to admit it, even to myself: I’ve felt ashamed. I’ve felt embarrassed. I’ve felt like I failed.
I used to be the breadwinner. The senior executive. The one writing the checks. Now, in this chapter, I’m not.
And while I know this is just a different journey, it doesn’t always feel great. Because once a woman crosses into her 50s, she enters a quiet category that no one warned her about: Too experienced. Too expensive. Too late. The world doesn’t always say it directly. But it shows up in the silences. The unreturned calls. The coded feedback.
Men in their 50s are seen as seasoned. Women in their 50s are often seen as past their prime. According to the Center for American Progress, only 62.3% of women aged 55 to 64 were reemployed after losing a long-term job, compared to 67.8% for younger women. Many end up underemployed, consulting without benefits, or simply unable to reenter the workforce in a meaningful way. And this happens not because we’re unqualified, but because we’re no longer considered “a good long-term bet.” As if experience isn’t longevity. As if wisdom has a shelf life. But let me be clear: we didn’t fall. We pivoted.
We’re still sharp. Still capable. Still leading—just in different ways. And while some of us may not be writing the checks right now… We will.
Because women like us don’t expire, we evolve.
Next time, we’ll write the check.
If this essay resonated with you—or reminded you of someone you know—I would love to hear from you.
There are so many women walking through this quiet transition, carrying their brilliance while questioning their place.
If you’ve felt this shift too, I invite you to share your story. Together, we can bring visibility to the voices that deserve to be heard.
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