When Brandy and I became physically identifiable as members of an older generation, we started referring to ourselves as “the Aunties.” I’m not sure why that happened, but I do recall one pivotal moment. We were walking down a sidewalk at the mall and ran into a young friend who had his two-year-old son in his arms. “Look, Daddy!” the boy said. “Two Grannies!”
Honestly. A white hair here and there and suddenly you’re labeled as so elderly you must be a granny. I suspect that’s when we started using the potentially more lithesome and winsome term, Aunties.
In many cultures, Auntie and Uncle are terms of deep respect for elders. Particularly in Indian, Polynesian and African cultures, Auntie and Uncle are commonly used for elders both inside and outside of the family, even with complete strangers. The effect can be quite endearing.
When we perceive someone as “other” than we are, a stranger, different from us and unknown, we use labels as a matter of course. Old, young, white, black, fat, thin and so on act as substitutes for the whole story. Classifying a person this way is oddly comforting. It assumes we know the stranger in at least that one way, although, in fact, the label tells us nothing.
If a person is perceived as very different from us, we might also use this categorizing process to mentally push the person away. “A loud mouth.” Eeuw. The label might indicate our automatic distaste for a whole category. “A convicted criminal.” Eeuw. The label might purposefully diminish a whole group of people, debase them, dismiss them from thought, keep them from entering into our cherished world.
When our young friend’s child connected us to his concept of grannies, he was fashioning a bond with us, even though he did not know us. He had grannies; grannies were part of his family. The label made us familiar to him, no longer strangers. Similarly, when people think of Brandy and me as “the Aunties,” they have a sense of familiarity with us. The term Auntie usually evokes a loving and caring relationship.
Valerie Kaur, a Sikh woman who became a powerful and emotional anti-racist speaker in the years following 9/11, talks about the importance of practicing this radically loving 
technique. Instead of classifying people into their races or religions, instead of assigning them a value according to their visual appearances, she suggests, we need to focus on the stranger as “sister,” “brother,” “auntie,” or “uncle.” She challenges us to observe people – strangers – as members of our human family.
When we start processing the sight of one another in this intentionally caring way, our hearts and minds open up. It is possible to feel a kinship with anyone, anywhere, by first seeing the person as someone in our extended family, someone we have a kinship with. (See Valerie Kaur’s TED talk on “Revolutionary Love.”)
Do you have a favorite relative within your own family? Is it a cousin? A sister? A grandfather? Whoever it is, you 
have accumulated a host of positive feelings around that person’s title. Try using that person’s title as a label for strangers you might have dismissed as unwelcome in your world. See how the title opens up your heart to seeing the person as kindred, someone who evokes caring and concern.
In general, viewing strangers first as sisters and brothers, or aunties and uncles, introduces positive feelings into our assessments of “the other.” We are creating a bond, rather than distancing ourselves. We are making the unfamiliar familiar, which opens up the door to human kindness.
Living as equals requires this basic civility: that we practice seeing one another as members of the same human family.
