Adultism – is the deliberate discrimination, against a person or family of a person who is not an adult, namely young children.
It is that uncomfortable feeling every parent is subjected to at some time, by other adults, to convey that their child is not welcome in a certain premise. The term ‘child-friendly’ has also no doubt, been coined by such adults to elaborate on the fact that children should be confined to certain areas only and should not be allowed to mingle freely in society.
Well, why not?? They’re people too, I say! And their parents have desires too. I’m not suggesting they be allowed in a bar, or drive a car, but everywhere else, the adult society should go out of our way to ensure that little children are made to feel wanted, comfortable and appreciated.
Unfortunately, like all other parents of very young children, I too have silently endured and ignored the glares and stares by many adults whenever I venture out in public places with them. The same men who until very recently would check me out appreciatively (yes, I have also been a victim of sexism and chauvinism but that’s another story), now pointedly look away as I struggle down a street with crying toddler in one hand, and a stroller laden with diaper bags in the other trying to manoeuvre them all through revolving doors. (Unfortunately I am rarely at the receiving end of chivalry. Maybe if they made it a crime…)
Coming back to adultism, its about time this kind of discrimination gets its due mention along with racism, sexism, etc. To elaborate further the heinous nature of the crime, I present two classic examples.
Case 1: The restaurant disaster:
I have often been victimised when I decide to take my children someplace nice for dinner. The new place that everyone’s been talking about, that I have just been dying to try. Once there, I longingly and enviously eye the women who actually had the time to get all dressed up for this occasion, blow dry, manicure, pedicure even, just in case they got lucky tonight.
Ha! ‘This is what getting lucky leads to’ I wanted to shake them and say. I get 75 seconds to dress and when I eventually put on one of the very few dresses that fit thanks to my ever changing size, its a virtual war to avoid getting chocolate stains on it. Make up now means one hurried coat of lipstick that my curious toddler rubbed off on the car ride over (judging by her reaction to seeing lip stick on her mum’s lips you’d think a spaceship had actually landed on them!) As if feeling like a circus freak who has suddenly landed on a fashion show ramp isn’t embarrassing enough, the restaurant’s (non) host makes it worse. Does he really have to crinkle up his nose while running his eyes over this ‘party of four’ and keep us waiting for over ten minutes (probably in the hope that we’d change our minds). And is it my imagination or is the table behind the pillar, closest to the kitchen really the only one available? Its hard to think rationally with my fifteen month old trying to chew the tassels on my bag and my four year old running amok. So I look towards my husband for some reassurance that we aren’t being given any step treatment and its all a figment of my imagination. But he’s ten steps ahead of me staring pointedly away and… Wait is He actually pretending to not know us??!! Well, too late. Good job son for choosing this exact moment to yell DAD at the top of your lungs. Of course ALL dads looked up (I’m still wondering why since they didn’t even bring their kids here). Note to self: have the talk with him about using quiet indoor voice. AGAIN!!!
So we’re finally seated at the far end, and are presented the menu. The young waitress taking our order tries hard to ignore my daughter as she pulls down the tablecloth almost taking with it the seemingly expensive crockery. Then she excuses herself for a quick second and returns only to replace my glass plate with a plastic one. Now I’m the only adult in the place with a mickey mouse dinner set. But the thing about being a victim of adultism is that there’s never the time to register it. Not with her tapping her pen impatiently on her notepad while my baby has crawled over the table and is now sawing her tongue off with a knife. I mean I hardly even have time to notice that my older son is no longer at the table but is under it instead, until the waitress jumps back in shock when he makes his exit!
Somehow we’ve placed our order. ‘Should I bring it all together?’ Was her question. She might as well have asked us to come eat our food off the kitchen counter. In record time our food arrives and is consumed. I’m proud of my son for now finally sitting on his chair and feeding himself his fried rice like a gentleman. I’m seriously hoping the waitress and host saw that. Children are not all wild animals contrary to popular opinion!! In fact I’m about to complain to them that my soup was actually served after the main course but was distracted when I saw the baby strain her face in that oh so familiar way. Why? Why? Why? Why must she relieve herself everytime I eat! So I proceed diaper bag and all to the restroom only to find that the bill has been paid and husband and son are waiting for us outside the restaurant on our return. So much for dessert! The host and waitress give us their first genuine smile of the evening!! Next time we think of going out for dinner, we’ll go once again to the child friendly pizza parlour that gives away balloons and crayons! Hopefully we’ll get different colours this time.
Case 2- baby on board… The airborne debacle!
Enter an aircraft only to be greeted by a sea of disapproving faces, armed with their juices, eagerly awaiting the last passenger to board the aircraft (delayed no doubt at duty free shopping). And should the unfortunate victim of circumstances (you) enter with a child in arms, the disapproving glances turn into hostile glares. ‘Great!! They’re thinking, there goes our sleep/in flight entertainment’. With a quick prayer heaven-wards for moral support I take my seat, the only vacant one, foregoing any hope of being served any juice. Anyway, if their painfully transparent expressions are anything to go by, a stiff double vodka is what I really need to get me through the next 6 agonising hours. Yes, that’s right misters, I dared to bring a baby on flight! Would you rather we parents check them in with the luggage and collect them at the conveyor?? Wait don’t answer that! Sometimes it sounds appealing to us parents as well. I mean I’m the one who cannot even read about the in-flight entertainment let alone watch them. And the flat bed mechanism I paid so dearly for no longer functions on my seat ever since the baby pressed the button @ 26 times per second. But I’m better of not bringing that to anyone’s notice!
Before I’ve managed to somehow store the overhead luggage, the (fake)smiling flight attendant appears with the baby seat belt which can best be described as a contraption devised by someone who hates mothers and their little toddlers very, very much. I mean its hard enough getting them to sit still during take-off, landing and the inevitable delays on the runways due to ‘traffic’. Over that you have to shove cotton in their ears and strap them with the seat belt which has to then be connected to your own! I’m a mother not a magician! And no, its not enough to just hug her tight, and the attendants have been around only three times to check. So somehow baby and me are strapped and the plane has taken off, nuts have been served ( but mine went flying all down the aisle due to a losing battle for independence between baby and me). Still, so far so good. A kind hearted hostess even brought my baby a gift bag with crayons (that she consumed), squeaky toy( which she threw) and baby wipes(which she chewed). At least it kept us busy for all of twenty minutes. Now only 5 and a half hours to go. Hopefully baby will sleep for 2 of those.
What an angel she is!! She cooperated. She slept for an hour and forty-five minutes, during which time I managed to eat (with my left hand on account of the right arm holding her), read the in-flight duty free magazine and watch most of a movie even. Once baby was up I fed her the child meal, and ate her share of the dessert to relieve the stress. Still everything’s going better than I expected it to. I’ve managed to keep my baby entertained and contained in my seat for this long unlike the last time when she insisted on being walked up and down the aisle and I kept getting sandwiched between the air hostesses and their food carts. Boy, was that an uncomfortable flight. This one’s way better.
Until the inevitable happens!! My baby has bumped her head on the side panel and has unfortunately burst into the loudest wail in aviation history. Its a miracle the flight didn’t experience turbulence!! I sing, dance, hush, kiss, hug but nothing’s working. Finally 60 seconds later help in the form of an air hostess arrives. Maybe her kind words will soothe her or she’ll have had sense enough to have brought a chocolate. I was right, her sudden presence served as a distraction and not only has my baby finally quietened, but her next words have left even me speechless. If this isn’t a clear case of adultism, what is??
For which person, supposedly trained in the service industry, would utter the following words,
‘madam could you please lower your child’s volume? Some other passengers are complaining!’
I look around dumbfounded at the dark rows of sleeping passengers and then at the blue screen in front flashing flight information. I mean its 7.30 pm at the place of departure and 5pm at our destination!! Why do all these adults need such deep slumber at this hour?? That was the final straw, the exact moment when something snapped inside the mother in me. As I looked at my innocent baby’s tear streaked face, unsuspecting of the fact that some so-called mature adult had actually complained about the manner in which she was handling her misery, I knew right then.
This was War!!
I was officially tired of being the victim. Tired of being apologetic for the presence of my children who I happen to love very much. Children, as we all know do not come in trained adult sizes. And cannot be expected until a certain age to behave like adults. But why should the parents be victimised for this joy of nature? Does this mean that a young mother should not treat herself and her family at a nice restaurant that serves more than pasta in cream sauce. It wouldn’t kill a fancier establishment to dish out a smile and a balloon along with Thai curry every once in a while. Talk about being child un-friendly!!
With renewed purpose for living, I turned to the flight attendant, who really did not know what hit her! But she had it coming!! Instead of apologising for my child’s unacceptable social decorum, like she expected me to, I asked her in my sternest no-nonsense voice I could muster ‘Who exactly is complaining?’ Her stunned change of expression at my tone didn’t exactly speak volumes of her training or lack thereof. ‘The lady in front, madam’ She stumbled.
‘Well I’d like to have a word with her myself regarding my child’s volume. I’m sure we have disturbed her evening slumber but contrary to what she thinks, I did not purposely bump my child’s head in order to do it. And I am absolutely shocked that you have been unsympathetic enough to even bring this crazy complaint to my notice. Like her, I paid full fare for this seat and your services plus 10 per cent extra for my baby. So I don’t think you should be bringing me this attitude. Now if you don’t go back and tell her that I am the one being disturbed by her incessant complaining, then I will.”
“No madam, its fine madam,” she fumbled as she quickly retreated. And somehow in the confines of the small aircraft managed to not show me her face again!
As for us, the rest of the journey was smooth enough once I broke into the duty free chocolates! This was after all an emergency. My nieces back home would hopefully understand why I had returned with none for them.
But this I have to say, never before have I been more proud of myself!! Except for the day I went through 14 hours of intense labour and physically squeezed this child out of my body and made her a promise to love, protect and stand up for her rights for as long as I lived!
Today a mother had kept her promise!!
(This post can also be found on Mycity4kids.com on my page The Occupational Mother)
Sunset Effect - Nitya Satyani 