The burden and inspiration that comes from being a Karen

“Karen” is a modern meme and not a particularly nice one.

The name represents white entitlement. It stands for a middle-aged, privileged white woman who sees the world as revolving around her — her likes, dislikes and opinions.

She’s usually a blond — aren’t we all at a certain age? The actual definition, according to the Urban Dictionary: “Karen is a pejorative slang term for a obnoxious, angry, entitled, often racist, middle-aged white woman who uses her privilege to get her way or police other people’s behaviours.”

A Karen always wants to see the manager should the service in a store or a restaurant not meet her standards. She complains about the neighbours (particularly if they’re “not white”) and she’s the kind of person who identifies as being an anti-vaccine soccer mom.

The year’s most famous Karen was actually named Amy. Amy Cooper who, while walking her illegally unleashed dog in New York’s Central Park, called the police on a Black man who asked her to put the dog’s leash on. She told the 911 operator an “African-american man is threatening my life.” The man, bird watcher Christian Cooper, somewhat ironically no relation, suggested Amy had responded to his request by being racist.

(Curiously enough, in English, “Karen” is derived from Catherine, which may explain why I got interested in the whole subject.)

There are no “Karens” in my family whom I could ask how it feels to be a social media pariah. So when I found myself on a golf course with a Karen in our foursome, there was plenty of time to broach the subject. She was, as she says, “very aware” of the meme. This Karen was reflective, funny and enlightening.

“When asked for my name in a Starbucks, I say ‘Danelda.’ It’s my go-to name.” Later, Karen tells me she really would “like to use Xena” (as in the Warrior Princess) but admits that she probably couldn’t get away with that, given her age.

Her 31-year-old daughter challenged her: “You don’t know what your name means” and her grandson once said “don’t be a Karen,” and when he tried to backtrack by saying he didn’t mean to use it, Karen coolly replied: “Yes, you did.”

Karen admits the meme seemed to come out of nowhere and she laughs when she says: “Even if the food is horrible and I want to send it back, my daughter won’t let me.”

Karen does bristle at the “entitlement” accusation even as she admits that on the surface, she ticks all the boxes. She’s married and lives in one of Calgary’s most prestigious neighbourhoods, is a golf club member and drives a Lexus convertible. “My hair is fake blond, ’cause I’m worth it.” Then she lets loose with a wonderful laugh.

“When I think of that ‘Karen’ thing, it doesn’t work for me,” she says. Especially the “entitled” barb. Karen has worked her entire adult life. She’s a tail-end baby boomer, born in 1961, part of what demographers identify as the largest cohort in Canada. In his enlightening 1996 book, Boom Bust & Echo, David K. Foot writes being part of such a crowd — 2.6 million born between 1960 and 1966 — made waiting lists and competition for jobs part of their daily lives. Foot identifies 1961 as “one of the worst years ... to be born. You’re one of a huge crowd of late baby-boomers.”

Karen agrees: “When I graduated there were no jobs, men were hired way before women and paid more. I was often hit on by my bosses and I just had to smile and be busy.

“The only time I ever asked to speak to a manager was to let them know the person who served us was exceptionally great. I have never threatened to sue anyone, ever.

“I am not an anti-vaxxer, have no essential oils. I’m on Facebook only to view photos my daughter has posted at her request.”

On the other hand, Karen allows the label attached to her name has probably made her a better person.

When she can’t be Danelda or Xena, when she has to use her real name: “I always try to be my best self. Patient and sweet. Low, calm voice and thankful. “I think by making my name a thing it’s changed me a little.”