The Tranquil Vintessa

I’m Not Nice—I’m Kind”: Reclaiming Softness in a World That Hates It

“I’m not nice—I’m kind,” he said, smirking over his sushi roll.

We were on a date at this little spot I like. I blinked. “Oh? You think being nice is a bad thing?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “It’s a sign of weakness.”

I just nodded. “Well, I don’t think that.”

He smiled and we moved on, the rest of the date going smoothly. But his words stuck to me like soy sauce on linen. I couldn’t shake it.

I’ve heard it before—probably too many times.

Social media is full of people saying things like “stop being nice,” “cut them off,” “crash out,” or “you only live once—cuss them out today.” And while some of it is funny, quotable, and even a little satisfying in theory, it’s not really rooted in healing. It’s not solution-based. It’s just reaction disguised as self-worth.

I’m a firm believer that fights usually just escalate things. Real power doesn’t always need to shout. Real healing isn’t always loud. Sometimes walking away is the most powerful move in the room.

But I get why people feel that way.

I grew up in D.C. You couldn’t just walk around smiling for no reason. That was weird. That was “too soft.”

Being nice could put a target on your back. The world didn’t take kindly to people who were warm, or open, or happy. Somewhere along the line, we started confusing being guarded with being strong. We linked survival to shutting down.

We learned to applaud nastiness. We mistook cruelty for confidence. And then we wondered why we felt so alone.

During my healing era, I had to face a part of myself I wasn’t proud of: I’m a nice person. Deep down, that’s who I am. But somewhere along the way, being “nice” started to feel like a flaw.

It made me feel foolish. Vulnerable. Weak.

But once I got still, I realized the issue wasn’t that I’m nice. The issue was the world that taught me being nice was dangerous. That kindness was a setup. That goodness made you a fool.

It’s not true.

There is nothing weak about leading with love. There is nothing naïve about choosing to be decent in a world that profits off chaos.

Being kind doesn’t mean you have to let people walk over you. You can be soft and still hold your ground. You can have boundaries and still treat people with care. And standing up for yourself doesn’t always mean cussing someone out or throwing hands. It can be a quiet no. A calm exit. A redirect. Or if need be, as Erykah Badu said: “This tea and incense can turn to a 40 ounce and Newports if need be.”

But the point is—it’s a choice.

When you know your worth, you don’t need to prove it with chaos.

You don’t need to become cold just to stay safe.

Here’s the truth:

There’s nothing wrong with being nice.

There’s something wrong with the people who made you think that was a bad thing.

If someone took your kindness and tried to use it against you, that’s a reflection of them, not you.

If the world told you to be mean to be strong, it was wrong.

You don’t have to harden your heart just to survive. You don’t have to be mean just to matter.

Being nice doesn’t mean you’re weak—it means you still have hope. And in a world like this? That might be the strongest thing of all.