When Your Wings Are Considered Too Old to Fly
"Don't worry, you can restart your career at any age."
It is one of the most encouraging pieces of advice people casually offer. It sounds inspiring. It gives hope. It makes you believe that life always offers a second chance.
But very few people talk about what comes after that decision.
They don't tell you how difficult it is to begin again while everyone around you seems to have already built the career you are only beginning to chase. They don't tell you about walking into rooms where experience is measured not only by knowledge but by the number of years you have spent in the profession. They don't tell you how often you question yourself before anyone else does.
I am living that second beginning.
After choosing to step into the legal profession, I started what I call the second innings of my career. Every day is a conscious decision to learn, to improve, and to earn my place. Every draft teaches me something new. Every brief reminds me how much more there is to know. Every case pushes me to become a better advocate than I was yesterday.
I have no illusion that success comes overnight. Law is a profession where wisdom is built over years of reading, observing, arguing, and, most importantly, making mistakes. I am willing to invest that time. I am willing to put in the effort.
Hard work has never been the problem.
The problem is something far more subtle.
There are moments when I feel invisible—not because my work lacks sincerity, but because society often decides who deserves an opportunity before they even begin to speak.
We proudly celebrate equality, diversity, and inclusion. Yet, in practice, invisible filters continue to shape our judgments.
"Oh, she can't speak English!"
"Oh, she's too old for this role. We prefer young blood."
"No... her appearance doesn't match our beauty standards."
These may sound like casual remarks, but they often become silent verdicts—passed long before a person's talent, knowledge, or dedication is ever given a chance.
What should never have been normal has quietly become our normal.
These factors quietly influence how competence is perceived.
A person who speaks flawless English is often presumed to be more knowledgeable than someone who does not, even when the latter possesses deeper legal understanding. Someone beginning a profession later in life is frequently viewed as though they have missed their chance, despite bringing years of maturity, discipline, and life experience. Appearance, too, continues to affect first impressions in ways we rarely acknowledge but often practice.
These are biases we have normalized.
And perhaps that is what makes them the most dangerous.
A professional should be evaluated on competence, integrity, dedication, and the willingness to keep learning.
If someone stops growing, refuses to improve, or lacks the attitude necessary to evolve, criticism is justified.
But age is not a measure of competence.
But language is not a measure of intelligence.
But appearance is not a measure of capability.
These are assumptions—not qualifications.
As someone rebuilding a career, I often find myself questioning not whether I am capable, but whether I will be given enough opportunities to prove that I am.
That is a painful distinction.
People often say that experience gives you wings.
I sometimes feel that my wings are already there. They are strong enough to fly.
Yet, according to some, they have simply grown too old.
Not because they have lost their strength.
Not because they have forgotten how to soar.
But because someone else has decided they no longer fit the picture of what potential should look like.
Still, I refuse to believe that wings become useless with age.
A bird does not forget how to fly simply because the seasons have changed.
Neither should a human being.
Every day I continue to learn.
Every day I continue to draft.
Every day I continue to read judgments, study precedents, refine my arguments, and become a better advocate than I was the day before.
That is growth.
And growth—not age—is what should define a professional.
Perhaps my journey began later than many others.
Perhaps my path is longer.
Perhaps my destination will take more time to reach.
But none of these things diminish the value of the journey itself.
Careers are not races where everyone starts from the same line. They are deeply personal journeys shaped by choices, circumstances, responsibilities, failures, and courage. Some people begin early. Others begin again.
There is dignity in both.
So, if you ever find yourself standing at the beginning while everyone else seems miles ahead, remember this:
Your timeline is not your limitation.
Your age is not your weakness.
Your language is not your identity.
Your appearance is not your worth.
The only thing that truly defines your future is your willingness to keep growing.
Because wings do not become too old to fly.
They only wait for someone courageous enough to believe in the sky again.
Thanks for stopping by.
See you in the next read!
...Anu
Spill. Stir. Stay tuned As Not all drama belongs in court.
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