“It’s Monday morning and I am at work.” A few weeks or so ago, I was playing phone tag with my RJ guy and that’s how I answered his Girl Friday when I connected with her that Monday morning and she asked me how I was. She is a Lovely Person and I never did have to talk to RJ because, as a professional financial person in her own right, she handled all of it for him.

Yes, I did call her a Girl Friday and yes, I know that it is polly-tickly incorrect to use the word “girl” when talking about grownup women in any context. Me? I do not care if someone calls me Girl or Gal or Mama or Hon or Annie (never my name but at least it doesn’t sound like a buzzer) or whatever. If I know that I am being called Girl (or whatever) in an affectionate way by someone who I know values me as the intelligent and competent person that I am, I don’t give a damn what they call me.

BTW, I included “Mama” in there even though nobody in real life has ever called me that except for my children when they were babies. Well, except for 30-something years ago when a black guy who encountered me schlepping up Liberty Street with my flute said something like, “You play the flute, Mama?” I was not insulted. Nor was I the time another black guy (also on Liberty Street) told me I looked like Cicely Tyson. Insulted? Jeebus! Flattered? I look like Cicely Tyson? Yes!

And then there are those folks who just don’t know any better and never will. I’m not talking about big-shot a-holes who make a career out of marginalizing women. You know the kind. I’m talking about people like Broosie at my work. I won’t try to describe him except to say that when he dubbed my current supervisor The Queen Bee and referred to me as a “little worker bee”, I was not insulted. With difficult life-long physical/genetic disabilities, this sweet man has no power over me or anyone else except maybe the stuffed aminals that sometimes overflow his cube. Nevertheless, he is a valuable employee and, although I tire of his long conversations, I support him as a person who holds down a really good job at my workplace. If I reported him to human resources for making “inappropriate comments”, he might well end up unemployed. Isn’t it better that he has a job (that he is good at) that allows him to afford his own house, vee-hickle, and antique collecting habits? And co-workers (including female ones) who understand who he is and what challenges he has?

I’m just saying, when you are called an inappropriate name or label or whatever, please consider the source and the intent.

This entry was posted on Monday, March 14th, 2016 at 5:56 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.