I was reading Pearl's witty and wonderful blog* and noticed a phrase, a nickname, she uses for her son... "The Boy". Apparently, this term of endearment was lifted from Bill Cosby who, I am sure, used it to great profit.
I don't especially like the term. This may have something to do with the fact that I am of the male persuasion and have been for most, if not all, of my life (there may have been some short period of time in my mother's womb where this had not yet been determined). In any event, I have never liked the term "boy".
It has nothing to do with skin color since am sort of a mottled pinkish beige when not burned a bright tomato red from falling asleep in the sun. No, this has to do with deep insecurities and angst about growing up before I had, in fact, found myself grown up.
The first time I heard the term was as a small child of perhaps 7. A little girl of a similar age who did not know me wanted to gain my attention. Rather than come up to me and tap me on the shoulder, or run off in search of a mutual acquaintance, she chose to shout (in that shrill voice unique to little girls), "Hey boy!" I did not want to respond. There appeared to be anger in the voice. There appeared to be something demeaning in the way she poke the word "boy".
It's possible, in falling off the monkey bars (which I was often wont to do at that age), I may have crushed the little bag holding her lunch, making her peanut butter and jelly sandwich into a gooey, unrecognizable, probably uneatable mess. It is possible, therefore, that she had some legitimate reason to be a bit unhappy with me at that moment. I don't exactly recall. I only know that the epithet made me cringe.
And so I ignored her, limping off toward some other area of the playground where I might escape this mini-harpie's harangue. After all, it wasn't my fault she left her lunchbag so close to the danger zone surrounding the monkey bars, was it? Besides, I had other problems to worry about since the reason that I fell was due to my foot slipping, causing me to forcefully straddle one of the bars and, in shock and (severe) pain, tumble to the ground.
In any event, this trauma (reinforced by a number of bicycle chain slippages) has great psychic impact each time I hear or read that particular word... "boy".
You can imagine what I had to go through just to write this but my therapist says it's important. I trust her but I sometimes wonder why she giggled when suggesting this exercise.
* About which I am jealous and envious because she is much better at this than I could ever hope to be... And thank her for yet again providing me with something to write about.
A Night Unremembered
13 years ago
12 comments:
I did not have a pleasant upbringing. My father called me "Bastard" frequently. I understood the meaning of the word about the same time I got too big to be beaten, so I explained to the old man that the word was more of a reflection on him than me. I still don't like the word.
Jonathan - That particular word is from a tradition of blaming the child for the sins of the parent. It never made sense to me as an insult. There are others which make me cringe but not in a personal way. Just about any racial, ethnic, or religious slur does it. Mostly because some friends suffered from them and some used them.
Laugh I spose the female equivalent is 'Missy' I hate the term, so patronising... My father calls my son 'the boy' ... he told him one day enough time had passed for him to call him 'the man'
A'Jay - I would think "Honey" or "Hon" or "sweetie" would drive me up the wall if I were of the female persuasion. That was how I would yank my Ex's chain. :-P
My mother used to call me "Dougie" until one day, while I was home on leave, my father said it was time to stop.
Boy! So damn condescending. Douglas (oh I was sooooooo sorely tempted.....) why would you want to pull her chain?
AV
http://netherregionoftheearthii.blogspot.com/
http://tomusarcanum.blogspot.com/
http://thingsthatfizz.blogspot.com/
AV - You, a man with an Ex, have to ask? There comes a time in a bad marriage where it becomes all about The War. That was about a week after the nuptials in my case.
Interesting discussion. Never really cared what anyone called me. Fascinating.
Reg - Some people have thicker skins, some thinner. I do care what people call me but I control it. I weigh what's said against the circumstances, the person saying it, and my own mood at the time before I respond. If I do respond. Yet, the word(s) may still make me cringe inside.
Reg - Some people have thicker skins, some thinner. I do care what people call me but I control it. I weigh what's said against the circumstances, the person saying it, and my own mood at the time before I respond. If I do respond. Yet, the word(s) may still make me cringe inside.
AV - You, a man with an Ex, have to ask? There comes a time in a bad marriage where it becomes all about The War. That was about a week after the nuptials in my case.
Boy! So damn condescending. Douglas (oh I was sooooooo sorely tempted.....) why would you want to pull her chain?
AV
http://netherregionoftheearthii.blogspot.com/
http://tomusarcanum.blogspot.com/
http://thingsthatfizz.blogspot.com/
I did not have a pleasant upbringing. My father called me "Bastard" frequently. I understood the meaning of the word about the same time I got too big to be beaten, so I explained to the old man that the word was more of a reflection on him than me. I still don't like the word.
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