the nice* girl

Throughout most of my life, I've been known as a nice girl. The girl who's generally cheerful and helpful. The kind of girl you'd like your mother to meet so she can see what kind of crowd you hang out with (or at least pretend to). The girl you know your father would like not only because she's attractive but because she's ambitious and can multitask and maybe give you the flack you deserve when you're kidding around (and when you're not).

Being a nice girl has its advantages: you get to meet the parents to the credit of "You're the first girl I've ever let my parents meet." (As if that's not a red flag). You get to take on positions of authority because people believe they can count on you. You're usually handed jobs in customer service or public relations because potential supervisors see you as approachable. And at the very least, if you're pretty and nice, you'll get more tips in a food service job.

The shitty things that come with being a nice girl are how easily people make assumptions about your thoughts or feelings, and perhaps believe you're worth taking advantage of because you're nice and you'll put up with someone's bad behavior. Being nice also implies being moral and right and upstanding and doting, so the slightest provocation of these factors is titillating to others (yes, I said titillating), and makes them feel at liberty to announce and exaggerate what out of the box, not nice thing you've just done--especially as a female.

What's most fascinating about having been labeled a "nice girl" throughout most of my growing up is seeing people now that I haven't seen since the middle of college and wondering if their image of me and my image of them is the same as it always was. A couple of times recently, I found myself catching up with people who knew me five or six years ago when I still had short hair, was very much finding my confidence, had a solid record of good girl grades and volunteer service hours, and was trying to break out of being so goddamned nice. When I talk to people now, I still recognize that twinge of the Nice Girl Complex (ie. I don't want to be that person you think I am!), but I know that I'm different than I was even last year let alone six years ago and so are they. The experiences I've had, my ambitions, my vision of myself and how I want to be--all of those have blossomed into what I only saw beginning to flourish at 19 or 20--and there's still an undercurrent of niceness.

So, here's what I think I'm really getting at: just because I'm not terribly fond of being the nice girl, the bottom line is that I think it's an inherent trait that's coupled with some other not so nice personality factors. I know myself and when to express these parts without faking some false confidence or building up my ego in an attempt to hide insecurity. I'm also vulnerable. And I don't think you can live a very authentic life without a smidgen of vulnerability and showing others the kind of gratitude and kindness that suggest being "nice." Why would I want to surround myself with people who are stunted by their fear of taking responsibility for their feelings and extending themselves to others? I wouldn't. So I won't be that way.

I'm going to start reading A Year of Living Consciously by Gay Hendricks as soon as I get it in the mail. A lot of this book's content weaves into what I'm talking about, and I hope it will help me continue exploring what it means to be who I am and what I want to become. Maybe you'll read it too and we can talk about it.

*nice is just about the most trite, overused word I've ever heard and I just text vomited it here for you about twenty times. You're welcome.