Good girls shouldn’t always play nice

Photo by Max Choong.

I was at a high school reunion a few years back, when a childhood friend asked, “Are you as nice as you always used to be?” Very sweet, of him. Except, I knew definitively that the answer to that was a “hell no.” And I was both chagrined, and happy, about that.

Niceness is overrated, especially if you’re a woman.

At best, it cuts both ways. People like you, but they don’t notice you. They want to talk to you, but they’re not as likely to listen. And when you stop being nice, and get vocal, people object.

“You used to be so sweet,” I’ve had people say to me, when I objected to something. Like standing up for yourself is a character flaw.

At worst, being too nice can be dangerous. It’s the voice telling you not to make a fuss when someone invades your personal space. The urge to smooth over other people’s transgressions–no matter how egregious. The habit of putting yourself last.

I admit it; I’m a recovering nice girl. This became painfully obvious to me when I had a daughter. Never in my life have I had to smother the “play nice” voice that natters through my head, as much as I have with her. Because when she would kick the ball too often in soccer class, I was tempted to yell out, “share the ball.” When a boy pushed her, and she screamed “get away from me, you stupid boy,” I wanted to tell her not to use the word stupid. And, when she was 4, an adult male friend jokingly tried to take her cake. She shot back with, “You can get your own piece,” while I had to tamp down my embarrassment.

What my daughter has taught me is that, her natural inclination is to stand up for herself. To compete. To achieve. And who in the world am I to stop her? So I bite my tongue, with the full knowledge that my instincts are terrible–born from a system that encouraged me to be passive and sweet, rather than assertive and strong.

Our parents meant well when they passed along sage advice, like, “dance with a boy so you don’t hurt his feelings.” But they came of age in the 60s. I can testify first-hand that suffering through an erection pressed against your stomach was a lot harder in 1987, when they were still playing the 8-minute version of Purple Rain.

Obviously, niceness isn’t strictly a female curse. Thus, the saying, “Nice guys finish last.”

Still, strength and perceived aggression make us queasier when they come from a woman. We’ve all heard whispers about female coworkers who demand a raise or promotion too quickly, or are just a little too vocal. I don’t remember the last time I heard a man called to the mat for trying to get ahead. And why else would amazing athletes like Serena Williams and Ronda Rousey get told their bodies are too masculine?

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not advocating for pushing old ladies into the street, kicking someone’s kitten, or screaming obscenities at your neighbor. We could all afford to be a lot kinder to one another.  And God knows, I hate hot-headed blowhards more than Trump hates Mexicans.

It’s also true that being nice and being assertive are not mutually exclusive. But it seems like, when it comes to raising girls, niceness is often a not-so-thinly veiled euphemism for passivity. And that will get them nowhere.

So now that I’m not quite as nice, I will still give up my seat on the train for someone. But I won’t say hi back to the guy giving me weird vibes at the station. I’ll be friendly to people, but give myself permission not to befriend someone who irritates the bejesus out of me. I’ll listen, but ask not to be interrupted when I’m speaking.

Because, while niceness is all well and good, boundaries, fairness, and strength are even better.