The Other L-Word

The word “lady” has always made me cringe. “You are a wonderful lady,” my mom recently posted on my Facebook page. Lady. It’s the new pink, the other L-word. My mom’s post may have been well-intentioned—purveyors of the word “lady” will always lead you to believe that they are well-intentioned—but somehow this word is deeply unsettling. Maybe it’s my age, but “lady” brings up images women in lavender polyester pantsuits. Women I am surely far, far too young to be. But there’s more to it than that. Lady is a has a weirdly feminized, semi-covert sexual overtone. I have yet to hear it in a context that doesn’t make it sound like, well, like a creepy euphemism.

Granted, I have some particular baggage around this one. In 1988 or 89, my mom and dad were standing in the hallway. My parents, who fought for years and were on the verge of a divorce, were having one of those confrontations kids are never supposed to hear.

“Tell me you love me,” my mom was demanding angrily.
“Lois—“ my dad choked out ”—I think you’re a very nice lady.”

How my mom could have come away from this exchange without a permanent vandetta against the other L-word, I will never know. Even at 15, it made my skin crawl. After years of listening to them fight, I understood that this was the best my dad could do. But—lady? Why couldn’t he have said “You’re a very nice person”? Why the creepy lavender-pantsuit word? Ladies are people, aren’t they?

Actually, no. After my mom’s post, I thought hard about my instinctive cringe whenever this word appears. It’s not just about the memory. It’s about all the contexts in which I’ve ever heard it used. Guy on the make: “Hi, ladies!” College basketball coach: “Let’s go, ladies!” The more I thought about about the word lady, the other L-word, the more I realized that it is the shadow-self of actual L-word, the one straight women are taught to dread. But the use is similar. It draws attention to the fact that you are not merely a person operating in the world. Like the queer L-word, it reminds you, if you are female, that you are operating under a system of Rules and Regulations.

And you, poor dear, are probably out of bounds.

Originally, Lady was a title indicating one’s position in the upper class. Most of us could never aspire to being Ladies. But at least the distinction was clear. The rules were clear. The wealth and privilege attached to the position were clear. These days, the actual meaning of "lady"--as I was realizing--is far murkier and, despite its apparent wholesomeness, pretty darn ominous. Maybe this is what makes me balk. These days, the term "lady" is as plastic and frought as Barbie herself.

Perhaps the most prevalent and long-standing use of the term in modern parlance is as term used to modify the behavior of pre-teen girls. You know, the old “sit like a lady” shtick. Tellingly , this is often paired with “little,” as in “you were a lovely little lady at Rose’s birthday party.” Basically, it is a way of getting pre-teen girls to tone it down.

Apparently, if you are eight and you sit with your knees apart, it is not a sign that you are growing into a confident person who is not afraid to take up space in the world. No, if you are eight and sit with your knees apart, it is a sign to men that you want to have sex. Even if you never think of sex and barely know what it is. Men might get the wrong idea after all, and eight year old girls cannot allow this to happen.

This usage works in tandem with the 50s idea of the nice girl. Nice girls (ladies) are polite. They are neat and clean. They are modest. They do not talk loudly. They do not give voice to strong or disagreeable opinions. And they certainly do not sit in positions that cause men to think inappropriate thoughts. At any rate, allowing your eight year old to sit with her knees apart will surely indicate that she is a soon-to-be-hooker and you are her aspiring parent-pimp. This behavior must be reigned in immediately. Like all female restrictions, it is for her own good. How can girls best be policed in this context? By making them aspire to be some glamorous grownup creature who does not actually exist. Someone who wears a lavender pantsuit, perhaps. Ok, these people exist. But their gender manifestations are a construct, folks--and a pretty disturbing one at that.

Then there is the term “lady” applied to grown women. My dad, an attorney, still refers to certain of his colleagues in 2009 as “lady lawyers,” as though this is somehow a notable, suprising, and perhaps slightly suspicious fact. You have to watch those lady lawyers—you never know what they are doing with the Law in the powder room.

And used disparagingly, the straight L-word, like its queer counterpart, will serve to remind you that you are a female acting far too aggressive. The standard application of this one is something like: “Lady, I don’t know what you want, but I can’t help you,” or “Hey lady! Get out of the way.” This time the term is employed by men to put you back in your place. You know, the nice place on the chair in the corner where you don’t say anything, do not occupy space, and certainly do not make demands. See above.

Recently, there has been a semi-reclamation of the term “lady.” I think it derives from women’s sports. Since we (well, some of us) have become aware that the term “girls’” in front of a team name is not really appropriate for college-aged women, the word “ladies” has become an alternative. My favorite instance of this is the “Lady Reds,” for the women’s teams at the college where I used to teach. (The “Reds” referred to the school’s mascot, a Native American. One wonders where to start with this one.) At any rate, as if “Reds” were not offensive enough, the women’s teams were—proudly!— the “Lady Reds.”

Just as with the lady lawyers, the fact that the Lady Reds need a gendered adjective is itself a telling indication of second-class citizenship. The term is (supposedly) meant to be positive, the driving force being that "ladies" in this case are female athletes who can kick the ass of the other team, then shower up and look fabulous in makeup and high heels. In other words, these are athletes who can still be feminine. They are most assuredly not that shadowy no-no L-word, the one with butchy stereotypes attached. “Ladies!” This use proclaims, “we are athletes and we are straight! Come over and read Cosmo after practice!”

I know what you’re thinking. If we can reclaim “girl,” why not “lady”? Perhaps re-spelling it? Laidee? Maybe not. Laydie? Um, no. Laddie? I feel like I've seen that one before. It’s going to take a lot to rid this one of its creepy overtones, its constant reminder of that you, dear female human trying to operate in the world, have gender expectations to fulfill. Until then, if you want to give me a compliment, telling me I’m a nice person would be fine.