The First Year

It’s been a year since my first posting on SubStack, and I thank you all for joining me on my weekly quest to replace the word Nice with the word Kind. I will be away on assignment overseas until July, so I am reposting some of my early musings. Enjoy!

As you read today’s reposting, I will be in Mongolia.

Please share with anyone you know who needs a giggle:

I was born and raised in the Land of Nice where, once you have been introduced, people will gladly invite you to the church potluck, and snow-blow your driveway as long as they’re blowing their own. We handwrite thank you notes because, well you’re supposed to.  When the tag on the mattress says “Do not remove, Under Penalty of Law” Minnesotans believe it and keep that sucker attached. We don’t whine.

At my little cabin in the woods, the local lake association regularly posts alerts like “A perfectly good yellow life jacket was found by Leo Anderson after last Saturday’s big storm.  Please let Leo know if it’s yours.”

Minnesota is Canada South.  We are kind and hardworking and progressive.  We dream of raising a nice boy like Justin Trudeau. 

Critics have pointed out that nice can foster negative qualities, such as passive aggressiveness and resistance to change.

Whatever.

I was born and raised in the Land of Nice where, once you have been introduced, people will gladly invite you to the church potluck, and snow-blow your driveway as long as they’re blowing their own. We handwrite thank you notes because, well you’re supposed to.  When the tag on the mattress says “Do not remove, Under Penalty of Law” Minnesotans believe it and keep that sucker attached. We don’t whine.                               

But baby girls are not born nice.  The lusty cry that announces their arrival is as essential as that of any newborn.  The strength of that first scream marks the first measure of her potential. Newborns go from warm, dark comfort to an assault of noise and light. They are hungry and cold and pissed.  Survival will depend on them howling for what they need.

Nice is a four-letter word.  It comes from the Latin verb nescius, which evolved from a combination of the Latin prefix ne-, meaning "not," and scire, a meaning "to know." Synonyms for nice include well-bred, appropriate, virtuous, respectable….also clueless, innocent, non-aggressive and unaware.  Sounds like stupid to me.

Nice should never be confused with the word, kind. Nice is intentional… a deliberate façade.  When we teach our children to be nice, we are unconsciously telling them to be disingenuous.  Girls, especially, are taught to dance the dance of deception. Take up less air in the room.  Become invisible.

Girls learn early that nice works in the short run. Teachers like nice girls.  Other parents like us. We get valentines and party invitations.  Mean girls may roam the hallways of high school, but they don’t become homecoming queen. 

Nice is noncommittal, pleasant, empty as a seashell. Nice is a potted plant, the color taupe, a shot of Botox.  Nice is a perfect pencil skirt that will compliment any outrageous suit she might marry. 

In business, nice helps us ace the interview, but doesn’t get us promoted.  Invisible leads to thankless tasks, leads to passed over, leads to simmering resentment. Playing nice squanders an enormous amount of time and opportunity. Most importantly, nice dulls our inborn radar, leaving us vulnerable to predators large and small.

Nice, it turns out, can be dangerous.