I’m not sure, but I have always felt uncomfortable when people describe me as ‘nice’. Along with the seeming dismissive nature of the label has been this kind of sympathy, which was not encouraging but felt condescending. There was another word they wanted to use, but they were being nice to me. I carried this discomfort until it became a burden. I wanted to shout, “I am not nice, I am trying to be less selfish in my interactions with others!” But I did not do so. Instead, I smiled and pretended that it was the compliment I knew it was not. I did not know why, but I can now unequivocally say, I despise the description “nice”. Because I know it was never a compliment, it was: a form of dismissal, a means of exploitation, silencing and a green light to manipulate. I am not nice.
I realise that being nice can be a social currency, a way to remain in people’s good graces, also known as people pleasing and a way to feel a sense of belonging. However, I am at the age when I no longer want to please, belong or be in anyone’s good graces. I want to ignore you if I do not want to be in your space, to eat what I want, dress how I want, and just be. I am not nice. I have been nice for too long, and the sweet treats I used to receive are like a retriever or bitter, venomously poisonous. I want to retire from the stage, and so I bid, nice, adieu. Instead, I will disappoint everyone and remove the costume. Because being nice is not based on authenticity but requires years of practice – usually in childhood – to perfect a false image, a mask that often slips. Panic attacks, bulimia, anxiety, depression, anorexia and a loss too great to write on this page are all by-products of trying to be nice. So you see, I can no longer be nice. I can no longer lie about things, places and people I do not like or feel uncomfortable with. I can no longer aim for uniformity and conformity. I must bury the dream of perfection, or die.
I want to be kind. I want to be kind to myself by going at my own pace and discovering what it means to be happy and content. I want to make room for myself in my story, and then when I am satisfied, I will build a house and invite a few people over to be my housemates. I spent over 10 years having my energy drained, sucked dry of life by my own mistakes. I will be kind to you based on your intentions and based on your actions. Motivation is critical, and execution is vital. So I will not be nice, but I will decide whether or not I will be kind.
Nice got me used, stressed out and disrespected. I’m not nice. I’m a good person. There’s a difference.” (Unknown).
