And the worst part is that I was trying to pay someone a compliment.
In talking about the founder of Moredance, a performance dance troupe, I referred to her as an “imaginative and creative girl.”
That was it.
Six words.
No insult intended. No condescension. No attempt to diminish an accomplished woman. Quite the opposite. I was genuinely impressed by what she had created and was trying to compliment her imagination, creativity and talent.
Then I looked across the table.
You could have cut the tension with a knife.
Judging by the reaction of my table companion, I hadn’t complimented somebody. I had apparently set back women’s rights about 75 years somewhere between the appetizer and dessert.
I immediately realized that I had wandered into one of the English language’s increasingly crowded minefields.
“Girl.”
For most of my life, “girl” was a fairly harmless word. There were the girls from school. The girls at the office. A girls’ night out. The girl next door. Billy Joel sang about an Uptown Girl, and as far as I know, nobody demanded that Columbia Records issue a clarification.
But somewhere along the way, “girl” apparently acquired a Human Resources file.
Now, before anyone starts drafting the complaint, I understand the issue.
Context matters.
If you’re sitting in a corporate meeting and referring to a 52-year-old female executive as “the girl who handles accounting,” while calling the 28-year-old guy sitting next to her “Mr. Johnson,” you might want to rethink your vocabulary.
That’s not affection. That’s diminishing somebody.
Fair enough.
But human beings don’t speak exclusively in corporate policy manuals.
Women themselves say they’re going out with “the girls.” Men say they’re getting together with “the boys.” Someone can be 70 years old and still talk about “the girls I went to high school with.”
Nobody believes they’re referring to a group of seventh graders.
And that’s why last night’s little language lesson stayed with me.
My use of “girl” wasn’t about age. It certainly wasn’t about status. It was conversational — paired with two words that were unmistakably complimentary: imaginative and creative.
Could I have said “woman”?
Of course.
“Imaginative and creative woman” would have conveyed essentially the same thought and, more importantly, might have allowed everyone at the table to continue eating.
Lesson learned.
But I’m also 67 years old, and at this point calling someone a “girl” may be less about making her younger than desperately trying to convince myself that I’m still young.
At my age, I’m increasingly reluctant to describe anybody in my general vicinity as elderly, senior, mature or — God forbid — “a person of a certain age.”
We’re all kids as far as I’m concerned.
And maybe that’s the larger point.
Words don’t exist without context, tone, relationships and intent.
There is a difference between using language to diminish someone and using familiar language affectionately or conversationally. There is a difference between disrespect and an imperfectly chosen compliment.
Could somebody dislike being called a girl?
Absolutely.
And if she tells me that?
Easy.
I’ll stop.
I’ll clarify what I meant and resist the temptation to conduct a 45-minute seminar defending myself.
That’s another thing I’ve learned with age: you don’t have to win every linguistic argument.
Sometimes you can simply say:
“Fair enough. I didn’t mean it that way.”
But I’m also not prepared to approach every conversation like I’m defusing a bomb.
Language needs some room for humor, affection, familiarity and, yes, occasionally getting it wrong.
Because if we eliminate every word that could possibly offend somebody depending upon the circumstances, eventually we’re all going to be sitting silently at dinner staring at one another, terrified that the next adjective might require mediation.
Which, come to think of it, might actually be safer.
But it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.
So I’ll continue trying to treat people respectfully.
I’ll pay attention to context.
I’ll listen when someone tells me something bothers them.
And every once in a while, I may still say “girl.”
If that gets me hauled before the Language Police, I have only one request:
Please don’t send a girl to arrest me.
