At 61 years old, Ilda Esteves, an employee of the National Health Service (NHS), emerged victorious from the Westford London court at the end of March. She was recognized as a victim of harassment by her colleague Charles Oppong, who constantly called her “auntie” against her will. Oppong was convicted, and the West London NHS Trust will have to pay the plaintiff a total of £1,425 (€1,636) in damages for “emotional distress.”
The story could have ended there. But the defense of the accused made Lola Okolosie, a writer and English professor, raise an eyebrow. She questions in a piece for the Guardian the use of the term “auntie” and wonders why it is so unsettling in the Western world.
In Ghanaian culture, from which Charles Oppong hails, using the term “auntie” is “a sign of respect for older women.” Likewise, for many people “from West Africa, the Caribbean, and South Asia,” auntie and uncle are honorary titles used as a sign of respect.
“It’s so ingrained in us that it becomes a reflex: as a child, calling an older person by their first name could result in a reprimand from your parents.”
In this context, using these terms is a form of politeness, as well as a sign of belonging to a culture that perceives age as “bearing a double richness: experience and wisdom.” However, the journalist notes that “using a title that someone has refused is not a sign of respect.”
In professional and educational environments, and in Western culture “where age hierarchies are blurred,” this term will be perceived more as “an attempt to discredit a colleague.” The chronicler observes that “older women feel compelled to hide their age due to ageism and misogyny,” reinforcing feelings of offense and belittlement.
Far from being celebrated, age becomes taboo, reflecting a true “Western discomfort” with aging.
“I am undeniably of older age,” the writer confides. But “when I reveal [my age] to my colleagues or new acquaintances, their reaction is quite strange. ‘You don’t look your age,’ they sometimes tell me.” It’s as if talking about one’s age is a form of self-deprecation.
For the writer, this can be explained by the cultural tendency in Western society to assume that a woman, because she is older, will want to appear younger.
“What’s the problem if I look my age and if I bear the visible marks of the years I have lived?” she wonders. “As my brother, who lives in Nigeria, so aptly puts it: ‘I have earned my gray hair.’ All without exception.”
