When I was in my 20’s, a slightly older friend rankled when this Grandma mentioned that I was getting together with “the girls.” She proceeded to call me on it.
Referring to the differences of respect for men who were professionals and women who were professionals at that time, she said men never say they are getting together with the “boys.” Until we are over age 75, we must refer to women as women, not girls, and respect our maturity if we expect respect from men, according to my friend, at that time. From that point forward to today, I call anyone close on any reference to we women as girls and rankle with a closed mouth at those not close enough to be called on it. Now that this long (we never say old) friend and I, nearly half a century later, are closer to that then remote age of 75, I think if I asked her, she would say it is NEVER okay to refer to ourselves as girls or that we are getting together with “the girls.” Yes, respect for women has changed, but not as much as we would like.
We now have another reason to end such references to us as “girls.” We have grandchildren. We don’t want our grandchildren to view us as anyone other than mature and wise women worthy of respect for those years. If we want others to show respect for our years, we should practice that respect with our peers. This Grandma thinks referring to ourselves as “girls” is another one of those leftover unintentionally demeaning references from our mothers’ generation that we should just put to bed. This is not now acceptable to me anymore at any age above puberty and I intend to call others on it.
Another long friend shared a heartwarming story about her ninety year old widowed mother in a nursing home. She said her mother kept referring to a slightly younger gentleman friend often and with great affection as her young friend. She realized that her mother was in love and her mother did not even realize it. When she next went to visit her mother, she met her mother’s new love. She said she thought to herself how “cute” they were together, and then got upset with herself. Her mother was a wise and mature woman and her relationship with a wise and mature man should not be referred to as “cute.” When she shared the story of her mother’s new love with others, their first reaction was, “how cute.” She rankled and called each on it. Yes, it is a wonderful and heartwarming, lovely new mature relationship between two adults worthy of use of words of respect.
After this Grandma heard this story, I realized that I too was guilty of this. Not only that, I began to remember how recently, even in professional settings, Grandpa and I were referred to as a “cute couple.” I know that those who said this meant it as a compliment. However, Grandpa and I are accomplished professionals and being called “cute” rankles me now. In so many countries, those of long years are respected for their wisdom and experience. In America, we honor youth and youthfulness. I wonder now if Grandpa and I are also called “cute” because we act “forever young.”
We now have another reason to end such references to us as “cute.” We have grandchildren. We don’t want our grandchildren to view us as anyone other than mature and wise adults worthy of respect for those years. If we want others to show respect for our years, we should practice that respect with our peers. This Grandma thinks referring to us of long years in love “cute” is another one of those leftover unintentionally demeaning references from our mothers’ generation that we should just put to bed. This is not now acceptable to me anymore beyond age of teenage “love” and I intend to call others on it.
But, how to kindly call others on it is the question.
“Cute” and “girls” refer to our grandchildren. That is how I will do it. I will say that I reserve the word “girls” for my grandchildren. I will add “maturity of age is wonderful for women, isn’t it?” I will say that I reserve the word “cute” for my grandchildren. I will add “mature love is wonderful, isn’t it?
Actually, we grandmas know the truth after long years. It is better than wonderful.
Joy,
Mema
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