Why is calling a woman auntie disturbing in the United Kingdom?

At 61 years old, Ilda Esteves, an employee of the National Health Service (NHS), emerged victorious at the end of March from the Westford Court in London. She was recognized as a victim of harassment by Charles Oppong, one of her colleagues, who constantly called her “auntie” against her will. He was convicted, and the West London NHS Trust will have to pay the plaintiff a total of £1,425 pounds (€1,636 euros) in damages and compensation for “emotional distress.”

The story could have ended there. But the defense of the accused raised eyebrows for Lola Okolosie, a writer and English teacher, who questions in a piece for the Guardian about the use of this term and why it is so disturbing in the West.

In Ghanaian culture, from which Charles Oppong hails, using the term “auntie” is “a mark of respect for older women.” Similarly, for many people “from West Africa, the Caribbean, and South Asia,” notes the columnist, “aunt” 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 earn you a scolding from your parents.”

In this context, using these terms is a mark of politeness, but also of belonging to a culture that sees age as “carrying a double richness: experience and wisdom.” This is not an excuse, the journalist continues, “Using a title that someone has rejected is not a mark of respect.”

In professional and academic environments, and in Western culture “where age hierarchies blur,” this term will be more perceived “as an attempt to discredit a colleague.” An offense and a feeling of belittlement reinforced by the fact that “older women feel obligated to hide their age due to ageism and misogyny,” notes the columnist.

Far from being celebrated, age becomes taboo, reflecting a true “Western discomfort” with aging.

“I am undeniably older,” the writer confesses. But “when I reveal [my age] to my colleagues or new acquaintances, their reaction is strange to say the least. ‘You don’t look your age,’ they sometimes tell me.” As if talking about one’s age was a form of “self-deprecation.”

For the columnist, this can be explained by the cultural tendency of 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, rightly says: ‘I have earned my gray hair.’ Everyone without exception.”