Rest for the word “Nice”
Not too long ago, a high school friend described me as, “smart and nice”. These
descriptors left her mouth as compliments and entered my ears as confining
titles.
Smart—a
term used for a dull, lack-luster friend with academic achievements.
Nice—a
descriptor reserved for obedient persons who meticulously follow all unwritten
rules of society. Generally pushovers.
While
I felt neither of these encrypted meanings fit me, I was most plagued by the
term “nice”. My thoughts turned from what my friend had said to society’s
general overuse of the word “nice”. As children we are continuously told to be
nice, to play nice, and to hold our tongues if the words on them are anything
but nice. So what does that tell us of the word nice?
Nice
appears to be a socially acceptable way of behaving. To be nice is to pay lip
service to the general public. To be nice is to be pleasant, regardless of your
true feelings. Nice is a cage within which a person must act.
I am not nice.
Nice
is an insult to the true essence of my being. At my core, I deeply value our
human race. My actions spring from this foundation. I open doors, I give my
full attention, I extend invitations, and I lend a hand not because
these actions win me favor in society, but rather because I care. I act this
way because people must see that they are loved and valued.
Nice
is an insult. Nice implies that my acts of love are interpreted as well played
charades, a facade of politeness. Who can detect the true feelings of a
practiced nice person?
