In my long life I've been high, low and numerous places in between. I've hugged trees and was the first Christian hired by an Orthodox Jewish practice management software firm. (We got along famously — it seems Jewish and Catholic guilt are much the same.)
I've burned my bra and marched on Washington. I've been called aggressive (yes, my name is Karen), driven, professional, dependable, successful ... and some not so nice things in between.
The first time I felt the effect of ageism I'd been working in alternative health care at a hospital in Delaware. They held great employee training classes on how to relate to patients. We were taught about respecting the space of someone in a wheelchair or using a walker and about gender equity. One of our most important classes, I think, concerned relating to a patient who was older than you.
My first experience with ageism occurred at a Lowe's store where I was called "dear" by an employee in the garden center. I reminded him that there were no antlers on my head, and that he could call me Karen.
He said "Well, dear, that's what I'd call my mother." I reminded him then, that I was not his mother and he, not to my surprise, said "I'm sorry dear."
And that's when I went to his manager. The result, while not pleasant for him, was very satisfactory for me.
About a month ago, a nurse at my dentist's office called me "sweetie." I reminded her how diminishing that was to me. That it made her an adult and me a child. That, to me, it was akin to being a Black man and being called "boy." I told her I was not sweet (which I'm sure she had guessed by then).
I think we should define to others the manner in which we define ourselves. And, I think that Native Americans have it right. (And hopefully they will not think this is cultural appropriation.) We are not the elderly, the young at heart, the older generation, senior citizens or oldsters. We are elders.
