Hi, You’re Not Nice Either

This is what I had planned for this entry.

Pointing out how displeasing it is for people to hide their truth, their real personalities to be agreeable, and pleasing too other people. To lie, and make it such that people know one side of them, and that isn’t nice. It is exactly what nice people do. And it’s not pleasing, or appealing in the long run. One of the parties involved will end up leaving the acquaintance, the relationship because they can’t keep up with the farces put forward for everything to be okay.

Then, this past weekend happened, and I hung out with people. I experienced, once again, why people do what they do, why they present one side to themselves, and aim for the niceness effect. People want friends, and family. They want connections that last beyond an hour, or a day. They want illusions of deep, strong connections if they can’t have more than one day. People, in general, play at being nice to have people around them. It’s not nice, but it is necessary.

More mammals than not are social animals in the core of their existence. We are wired to seek community; to create one, and run with multiple entities around them. It’s why despite epically deplorable conditions, some communities manage to thrive. And why despite epically amazing living conditions, some people living alone don’t live long; and those who feel lonely or rejected even if they are surrounded by loving community members commit suicide. Too many of us need communication, connections that feel tangible inside our psyches to risk alienating people by acting in the manner we feel is natural to, or nurtured within us. This is one of the major reasons people act in whatever way society decides is nice.

Because society decides what is nice when it feels like it. When I was under eighteen, nice girls sat primly, spoke softly, were always polite, and never flamboyant. Nice boys were assertive, ambitious, wore baggy trousers, and jackets. Nice people went to places they were told to go like clockwork: church, school, work, home, to sleep. I am hoping my nieces/nephews grow up in a time where nice people are those who look to the positivity of an existence. People who acknowledge their flaws, and apologise for them, even when they know they won’t change. Accept apologies, and save themselves harmful things that are repeatedly thrown out into the world, and declared acceptable. Nice people shouldn’t have to sacrifice their heath, their personal care and regard when it’s positive, and healthy, for things that harm them. For things, ideas, and actions that take away from their goodness.

I’m idealistic, though. I fear that it will harm them if the world remains with ideologies spread about the world by European imperials.

The same ideals have me disliking nice people, because I know eventually they will reveal their true selves; and it won’t be pretty, or acceptable. Because they’ve hidden it for too long, instead of allowing me to know them gradually. The weekend hang-out lent me a few acquaintances, but no one I will be making a friend; because there was alcohol, and a.m. arguments that implied what was being hidden.

Hi, I’m not Nice.

I really am not.

When I was growing up, the idea was put into me to be a nice person. Nice people don’t talk back, they don’t yell, they don’t sit hunched over or with their legs spread if they are a girl. Nice people don’t question authority, they don’t sneer, they don’t resent anyone. Nice people help everyone. Nice people don’t talk to strangers. Nice people raise money for charity. Nice people don’t give away their parents’ hard earned money. Nice people believe in God, but not every God otherwise they won’t go to Heaven, and Nice People want to go to Heaven.

It got to a point where I started hating the idea of being nice. Nice people did nothing if they followed everyone’s rules, and ended up not being nice when they did try to follow everyone’s rules because at some point, you’ll give away money that your parents will deem a waste. But that wasn’t the only reason. I just couldn’t like myself enough to be nice.

So, I decided to check up the word in the dictionary; try to get to the basics of the word to see if it would help me embrace it. Nice, initially meant gullible, naive, foolish. It came from the Latin word for not to know, ignorance. Declare me displeased. It evolved to its present meaning of pleasant, agreeable, and/or satisfactory in general. Knowing the original meaning, I can’t help but feel the current meaning is in line with the original to some extent. And that the current meaning doesn’t mean one can in fact, counter anything put forth to them even if they’d be right.

I don’t like myself enough to be nice; be it in the original sense or the current one. People are generally displeased when you point out something off about them, or their ideas and opinions. This irks me because I still want to be a nice person. Old habits are hard to kill; or leave behind. But moreso for the people around me, than myself. I want them to experience having niceness in their lives; or in hanging out with me. But I don’t want to be the nice that is taken advantage of. I don’t want to be the nice that agrees with everything, questions nothing, and doesn’t set people straight on whatever wrong, or one dimensional idea they put forth as the only thing to be. I am not satisfactory, not to myself, not to the general public, not to my family. I don’t feel enough.

So, I’m not nice; and I wholly accept the displeasure that comes with it, no matter how hurt I am by it, or frustrated. Sometimes I don’t even care.