Sweetie Ain't So Bad, Babe

I’m so glad I read or watch the news fairly regularly. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know how obtuse I really am. See, all this time, something has been happening to me almost daily that it seems should have had me in a state of moral outrage, and there I was, just going about my business like nothing was wrong.

This past weekend, Lee and I were in a store. He couldn’t find something he was looking for, so he asked the clerk if they had it. She pointed to a shelf and said “right over there, baby.”

Earlier that same day, we’d gone out to grab some breakfast. At one point, we asked our waiter for more coffee. He filled up our cups, and when mine was topped off and I thanked him he said “just let me know when you’re ready for some more, hon.”

Every time we go to my parents’ pub, I greet and am greeted by acquaintances I only see once in a while with “how are you, babe,” or “good to see you, honey.”

And the other day, a co-worker called me “sweetie.”

My daily life is filled to the brim with this awful name-calling. And I’ve been oblivious to it, focusing my anger and frustration on silly little things like that whole VA cover-up about the number of veterans who commit suicide, or that gas prices are rising to the point that I know people who are finding it harder and harder to be able to afford to get to their low-paying jobs, but yet they don’t want to use public transportation because around here that’s a great way to get beaten up or stabbed. I’ve spent my moral outrage on rising crime rates and the abuse and neglect of children and animals, and spewed venom over the fact that our health care system sucks so much that I know a diabetic who gets her medication in Canada because she can’t afford to do so here and no one will insure her.

Duh. This whole time, I should have been fighting the battle right here at my doorstep, putting a stop to all this offensive language. I shouldn’t have tipped the waiter who called me “hon.” Next time that co-worker of mine calls me sweetie, he should get a swift kick in the nuts for being so condescending. And I’m a royal wimp for not telling off that clerk chick who reduced my boyfriend to a sex object by calling him “baby.”

Thanks to the whole scandal with Barack Obama calling that reporter “sweetie,” though, I now know better. I’m so glad political campaigns can teach us these things.

Honestly, are there REALLY people who are that upset about the whole thing? Do folks REALLY take this as a sign that Barack is condescending in his feelings towards and interactions with women?

Because truthfully, I just don’t get it. I think its one of the dumbest things I’ve heard. Granted, I admit to two biases. One, I like Barack. Two, I grew up in Baltimore. This is a town famous for beehived waitresses with cigarettes hanging out of their lips who call you and everyone else in the free world “hon” as they serve coffee. Our city even has an annual “Honfest” because of this decades-old trend. We’ve all got friends in low places here, and we refer to each other as “hon,” “babe,” baby,” and yes … “sweetie” as much as we do Mr. or Mrs. or by our given names. And “each other” doesn’t just include our friends and family, but often strangers we encounter throughout the day in stores, restaurants, or what have you.

So to me, Barack’s little slip either means nothing at all or is maybe even something that humanizes him a little bit more. It certainly doesn’t offend my sense of equality, femininity, or anything else.

In fact, if I’d been that news reporter and been told by Barack to “hang on one second, sweetie,” I probably would have responded with a “no problem, hon!” Because round’ here, that’s just how we do business.

So my reaction to the whole thing is pretty much, “get over it, babe.”