This Is 55!

By: Donovan Martin Sr, Editor in Chief

Image Credit: @sunnyshphoto Minister’s Social Media Feed

It began, as many modern controversies do, with a photograph and a caption. “This is 55.” Three words that should have landed as a personal reflection instead became the spark for a wave of commentary that said far more about our political climate than about the woman who posted it: Nahanni Fontaine, Minister of Families of Manitoba.

The images themselves were polished and deliberate, but not provocative. There was no policy announcement attached, no legislative update tucked into the frame. It was a milestone acknowledgment shared on an official platform, something elected officials across Manitoba and beyond do routinely. They post congratulations, celebrate anniversaries, share holiday greetings, and mark community milestones. Public feeds are not sterile government bulletins; they are living records of the people who hold office.

What many critics appeared to miss was the substance of the message itself. The post was not a vanity project. It was a meditation on aging as a woman in public life. It confronted a narrative that women are expected to shrink as they grow older, to soften, to quiet down, to fade politely into the background. Instead, she wrote about power, clarity, and refusing to perform for patriarchal expectations. She admitted she dislikes personal attention and had stopped celebrating birthdays publicly decades ago. She explained that her joy usually comes from lifting up women, girls, and gender-diverse relatives. The decision to claim this milestone every five years was framed not as self-indulgence, but as a conscious act of visibility in a culture that often erases older women.

There was no defensiveness in her tone. No counterattack aimed at detractors. Instead, there was sovereignty. She wrote about aging as a privilege denied to too many. She described feeling stronger and calmer, proud of the next generation of Fontaines building wealth and breaking cycles. She referenced the late Dr. Elder Leslie Spillett’s counsel to live without shame, and she embraced that advice fully. No shame in grey hair. No shame in assertiveness. No shame in voice. Menopause described as liberating. Peace described as protected. Access described as earned.

It was, in many ways, a high-road declaration. The kind that does not seek permission. Yet the reaction in certain corners was swift and sharp. Some questioned whether such a post belonged on a ministerial account. Others turned personal, reducing what was written about matriarchy, legacy, and self-possession into something trivial or worthy of mockery. The irony is difficult to ignore. A post urging women not to shrink was met with demands that she do exactly that.

There is a broader Manitoba context to consider here. Politics in this province has always involved disagreement, and that is healthy. But social media has intensified the tone. It has flattened nuance and rewarded outrage. In a province where many people feel personally connected to political figures, criticism can quickly shift from policy to personality. What should have remained a reflection on aging became an outlet for accumulated frustration about unrelated issues.

The question of whether it was appropriate to post on an official account ultimately feels secondary. Ministers mark milestones all the time. They share pieces of their lives to connect with the public. If we accept posts celebrating others’ birthdays, cultural holidays, and community achievements, consistency requires accepting that a minister can acknowledge her own milestone without it being construed as misuse of platform.

What is more revealing is how uncomfortable society can be with visible female confidence, particularly when it is rooted in age and authority. When she wrote that “55 is dangerous to systems expecting status quo,” she was speaking to structures that prefer women quieter and smaller. The online reaction, in some respects, illustrated that tension in real time.

There was also tenderness in the post that was overshadowed by criticism. She clarified that the day itself had already passed quietly, the way she prefers. She noted she was wearing her grandmother’s cameo ring, an heirloom threaded with memory and lineage. That detail was not political. It was intimate and human, a nod to continuity and matriarchal inheritance. It grounded the bold declarations in something deeply personal.

We often say we want authenticity from our leaders. We complain when public figures seem scripted or overly cautious. Yet when someone shares an unscripted reflection about aging, legacy, and self-respect, the reaction from some is to tear it apart. It is a contradiction worth examining.

None of this suggests that elected officials are beyond criticism. Policy choices, spending decisions, and legislative priorities must be scrutinized. But a milestone reflection about refusing shame does not belong in the same category as governance debate. When we conflate the two, we reveal how reflexive our hostility has become.

The sadness in this episode is not that there was disagreement. It is that a message centered on self-acceptance and generational pride became fodder for disdain. It is that a woman saying she feels strong and unashamed was treated as if that confidence required correction.

If we are honest, the post itself modeled the very composure the moment demanded. There was no lashing out. No retaliation. Just an affirmation of self, an acknowledgment of legacy, and a promise to meet sixty with the same clarity.

Perhaps the deeper question for Manitoba is not whether a minister should post birthday photos. Perhaps it is whether we can allow room for humanity in public life without immediately reaching for contempt. If a message about aging with power unsettles us, it may be worth asking why.

Because in the end, a birthday is not a policy statement. It is a marker of survival, growth, and time. Turning that into something bitter says less about the woman who wrote “This is 55” and more about the climate we have built around politics, where even matriarchy manifested must first endure the gauntlet of public scorn before it can simply be celebrated.