Nice

 

I’m not a “nice” person. I was never really a “nice girl” and I sure as hell am not “nice” now.

I’m not. We all know this.

I try to be a kind person. I try to do the right thing. I think I am fairly generous, and that I do work towards being a better human being, but I’m aware that it’s a process and an ongoing one at that, because being a good human is hard. The entirety of western culture militates against me being “good”.

But I’ve never been “nice” and I’ve never wanted to be described that way.

“Nice” is bland. “Nice” is conformability. “Nice” is not rocking the boat.

“Nice” is the lowest bar of human behavior.

“Nice” is a cover for going-along-to-get-along. “Nice” is camouflage for people who don’t want to put any effort into other people’s problems and pain.

“Nice” is sending “thoughts and prayers” instead of action.

“Nice” is the coward’s social refuge, because its purpose is to keep the nice person out of the crosshairs.

Good people fight for others. They put themselves in at least a marginal path of danger. They are willing to risk something for others, in the service of all humankind and all the other “kinds” there are.

Good people change their minds when gifted with additional information. Good people confront the darkness, in themselves as well as the world, and act to effect change in both.

“Nice” people? You are the dark underside of why we cannot have the world we need.