My Name is Karen. I’m Sorry.


I always used to describe myself as a warm, friendly teacher lady. I always thought I was “nice”. My students used to tell me that all the time! “You’re a nice teacher,” they’d say.

I believed them.

For years, my favorite things in life have involved cooking, sharing and eating good food and growing pretty flowers. I don’t like to make a fuss, or complain. If something is amiss with a restaurant order, I don’t send it back; I eat it and pretend it was fine.

I swear, I’ve always thought of myself as pretty likeable.

Welp, I’ve finally been set straight about my many character flaws, thanks to the miracle of social media.

In the past couple of months, Facebook has informed me that I, and all who share my unfortunate first name, are a bunch of nasty bitches. There’s even a Facebook Group dedicated to dissing us!

We are just AWFUL.

According to multiple posts, I’ve learned that Karens drive SUVs all over town. They are overly critical of their kids’ teachers, coaches and therapists. They believe they are entitled to all the good things in the world just because they are universally white, upper middle class, educated and suburban.

Karen’s complain. A lot. They complain on Snapchat and Instagram, which they apparently love. They post pictures of their expensive breeder-raised dogs when the groomer fails to get the face fluff just right. They post outraged images of their left pinky nail when the salon leaves a tiny ding.

They seem to enjoy being outraged.

Twitter has a hashtag called #KarenStrikesAgain. Holy horrifying!!

Twitter told me that, as a Karen, I’m a racist! I had no idea….I can’t think of a time when I did anything racist, but what do I know? I’m only a Karen. I don’t have any ability for self reflection.

Or so I’m told.

Look:

Yeesh. I cried for days after Tamir Rice was murdered. He was just about the age of my students. I wrote letters, I wrote blog posts, I was horrified.

I’m so sorry!

I didn’t know that as a Karen, I’m partially responsible for all of this racist violence.

I don’t want to waste my time trying to defend myself. I mean, I think we’ve all had enough of the hyper defensive reactions of the snowflake in the White House.

So I’ll just say this.

I apologize from the bottom of my heart for my self-centered privileged self. Even I don’t like Karens now that I know about us.

But look at this picture. Does this woman look like a person who would complain about a salon? Or a dog groomer? Does this look like the face of someone who thinks she’s better than you?

I think not!

She looks, if you ask me, a little ridiculous. (Although I did always like that sweater.) She looks like a person who would eat the cupcake after her grandson licked off the frosting. She looks like the owner of two mixed -breed mutts who she tosses in the bathtub when they get too grimy.

She looks, to me, like a nice lady who laughs at herself a lot.

So. I am herby announcing that I am changing my name. I think I look a lot like an Annie. I’ve always loved that name. No more Karen for me. I reject the entire persona!

Annie.

Annie Shiebler.

Nonni Annie.

It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

15 thoughts on “My Name is Karen. I’m Sorry.

  1. How about a nickname? Kay and Wren came to mind but probably would ring the same white privilege gong that has been unfairly attached to “Karen” though Wren sounds slightly hippyish and kind of resonates with your description of yourself. Someone had a childhood nemesis named “Karen” and has unfairly tagged all Karens with that visceral dislike that that Karen inspired through the viral social media world.

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    • I just actually think its kind of hilarious to be famous for all the things that fail to describe me! On the morning of the Women’s March in DC, it was so funny to hear people yelling “Karen????” while I was stuck in the crowd with my dear friend Karen. I like Wren, though!

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  2. This is hysterical. And, yes, Annie has a nice ring to it. But so does Karen. Keep your name and ignore the naysayers. And keep writing. You are good!

    Liked by 1 person

    • I used to make up fabulous daydreams in which I was the brave heroine. My name was always “Annie” in those dreams! I just think its a hoot to see these “Karen”memes out there!

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  3. You are awesome! As another Karen it’s a wonder we’ve made it this far😊, like you I’m a lovely person who loves her kids and grandkids, never say a bad word about anyone and stay to myself most of the time! Where are these bitches? They need to change their names not us…. hope you are well and safe♥️ Karen M

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    • I used to really hate my name, when I was young. So many Karens. So boring! My mom is named Zena (short for Vincenzina). I was jealous, but of course she gave me a nice, normal American name to make up for her own naming trauma!

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  4. Karen, oh I mean Annie, It would be interesting to find out what there names are, like maybe Donald, Eric, Ivanka or Don, just saying.

    Personally, I don’t care what people call me, as long as it is not late for dinner!!

    Take care sweet Annie!

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  5. Excellent post, Karen. You are someone I would call a friend–no matter what your name is. “The Karens” on the other hand are an evil spirit: self-centered, spoiled, self-entitled, self-absorbed…they want what they want when they want it and take responsibility for nothing. I’ve been side-stepping them my entire life while jogging, while walking, while being assigned as their roommate in college and them promptly asking to be reassigned, while shopping, while moving in next door to them, while working along side them… Is it no wonder that the main ailment in the Black community is high blood pressure.

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    • Ah, my friend, thank you!!! I promise you that I am the most unKaren like of Karens! I thought about changing my name to Eleanora, but that’s my granddaughter’s name! Sending you a huge virtual hug!

      Liked by 1 person

  6. I had no idea people thought that everyone named Karen is the same…..Makes about as much sense as all the other ways we try to group people together and stick a label on them. I mean, seriously?

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