Who Knew That the Condescending Baby Talk Had a Name?
The headline on the New York Times feature article—“Honey, Sweetie, Dearie: The Perils of Elderspeak”—caught my eye. So that’s what they call it!
But it was the subhead that really annoyed me: “A new training program teaches aides to stop baby talk and address older people as adults.”
Wow. What a concept.
Even though I didn’t know there was a name for it, I remember cringing instinctively when I first encountered instances of it years ago. Long before I too was an “older adult,” I bristled when well-meaning but tone-deaf nurses and aides talked to my elderly, formal/dignified father that way when he was in the hospital.
It’s inappropriate in most situations, but it also varies a bit with the individual. I probably would have balked less if my mother, who was casual, gregarious and affectionate, had been treated so familiarly.
Under the best of circumstances, it’s hard to maintain one’s dignity in those skimpy gowns that are guaranteed to expose whatever you’re trying to cover, or when fully dressed but needing help for basic activities like going to the bathroom or getting out of bed.
I don’t think a doctoral degree in psychology or gerontology is necessary to know that it’s just plain wrong to infantilize someone who’s at their most vulnerable in a hospital, or gradually losing their autonomy in a nursing home. I get that staff want to be nonthreatening and caring, but what makes them think that compassion and even affection are incompatible with respect?
The Times article mentions a couple of my candidates for most cringe-worthy behavior: ”an exaggerated, singsong vocal quality more suited to preschoolers, along with words like ‘“’potty‘”’ or ‘jammies.’ ”
Just months ago when I was at a medical facility for a routine appointment, I stopped to ask for directions at the information counter. I was flabbergasted when I realized that the young woman behind the desk had just called me “baby.”
Baby?! On what planet is that appropriate?
Mind you, although I’m now 77, I do not remotely resemble a “little old lady.” Many people would describe me as “youthful looking” for my age.
I was so taken aback that I didn’t protest, but I couldn’t help stewing about it during my wait for my appointment. I vowed to come back afterward to gently explain to her that patronizing us older folks was a really bad idea. Alas, she wasn’t at the desk. I was disappointed but actually a bit relieved. Not sure I could have kept my cool.
However, I’ve decided that whatever the setting, if someday someone less than half my age ever breezily asks me “do you think you can go potty for me now, sweetie?” I hope I will still have the physical strength to haul off and punch them in the face.
Carol Offen is a living kidney donor, donation advocate, and writer and editor living in North Carolina.
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A version of this article originally appeared in Crow’s Feet: Life As We Age, a Medium publication.