Kind, Not Nice: A Spell for the Misunderstood
What a witchy novel taught me about why I’ve not always been considered “nice” — and never needed to be.
I’ve spent most of my adult life claiming kindness as my personal mission.
Not success.
Not being liked.
Kindness.
It’s what I reach for even when I’m exhausted. It’s what I return to when the world feels unrecognizable. It’s what I believe in more than any ideology, brand of self-help, or spiritual tenet.
But here’s the part that’s always been hard to explain:
I’m not always very nice.
Not in the way people seem to want me to be.
Not in the soft-around-the-edges, sugar-and-smiles, make-everyone-comfortable kind of way.
Not in the tone-policed, culturally prescribed femininity of small talk and swallowed truth.
In fact, if I had a dollar for every time someone met me and decided, she’s kind of a bitch, I could retire in the woods and write poems on tree bark for the rest of my days.
And honestly? Sometimes they’re not wrong.
I can be bitchy. I’m opinionated. I’m emotionally porous and have very little tolerance for bullshit. I’m not good at hiding my feelings, especially when something feels fake or manipulative. And I don’t always package the truth in a way that’s easy to receive.
But here’s what else is true:
I care deeply about people.
I go out of my way to help others without needing recognition.
I have a strong moral compass that keeps me up at night when I fall out of alignment with it.
I believe in honesty over ease, presence over performance, and soul over spectacle.
So what does that make me?
The Line That Gave Me Language
Last year, I picked up The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches, a soft and magical novel by Sangu Mandanna. I wasn’t expecting much. I just wanted something cozy and witchy to fall into for a few hours.
But in the middle of all the spells and tea and found-family enchantments, I stumbled across a line that stopped me in my tracks:
Some people are nice and some people are kind. Niceness is good manners. Kindness on the other hand runs deep. Kindness is what happens when no one’s looking.
It wasn’t just a clever distinction; it felt like being seen.
Like someone had finally articulated what I’d spent two decades trying to explain about myself.
That my lack of conventional “niceness” wasn’t a flaw in my character.
It was a feature of something deeper, something truer.
That I wasn’t failing at being a good person.
I was just refusing to perform a version of care that wasn’t real.
That line unlocked something in me. Or maybe it confirmed what I already knew in my bones:
I’ve never strived to be nice.
I’ve been kind.
And no one ever taught me the difference.
Nice is Performance. Kindness is Presence.
Let’s name it, shall we?
Niceness is a social lubricant. It makes people feel safe, but only in a superficial way. It’s designed to smooth over tension, avoid conflict, and keep everyone comfortable.
But comfort isn’t always honest. And it’s rarely where transformation happens.
Niceness says what people want to hear.
Kindness says what people need to hear, gently, truthfully, with consideration.
Niceness avoids the hard conversations.
Kindness sits in the discomfort and doesn’t flinch.
Niceness placates.
Kindness witnesses.
I’ve been nice.
Of course I have. I was raised and socialized in the same world you were, where being pleasant is currency, especially for women. Where you’re taught to nod and smile and shrink. Where approval is the reward for obedience.
But it never fit me well. It felt like a costume that itched. A script I couldn’t memorize.
It made me disappear in rooms full of people.
When I purposely tried to be nice, I felt dishonest. I wasn’t lying maliciously, but I was erasing parts of myself just to keep things smooth. To avoid the ripple. To not be “too much.”
And every time I abandoned my truth to make someone else feel okay, something inside me hardened.
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Kindness Has Edges
What no one tells you about true kindness is that it isn’t always gentle.
Sometimes, kindness means being the one who speaks up.
Who names the hard thing.
Who walks away.
Who says no.
Kindness isn’t always sweet, but it is always rooted in compassion.
I think of the people who’ve offered me the kindest acts of my life:
They weren’t always the ones with soft voices and pleasant smiles.
They were the ones who stayed. Who told me the truth.
Who didn’t turn away when I was at my most unlovable.
And I think about how often I’ve been misread, dismissed as cold or intimidating or unfriendly, when in reality, I was just… authentic.
I didn’t know how to pretend.
Acting wasn’t a talent I was born with.
I was being kind in the only way I knew how:
through honesty, presence, and respect.
But the world doesn’t always recognize that as kindness. Especially when it comes in a package that doesn’t smile on command.
A Spell for the Misunderstood
If you’re someone who’s been called difficult, intense, or not “warm” enough, I see you.
If you’ve been told to soften your edges when your edges were the very thing protecting you, I believe you.
If you’ve felt guilt for not being more likable, more agreeable, more “nice” I want to offer you this:
You don’t have to be nice.
You never did.
You just have to be kind, in your own way.
Kind in a way that is aligned with your values.
Kind in a way that honors your truth.
Kind in a way that doesn’t betray you to make someone else comfortable.
Niceness demands you dim your light.
Kindness dares you to shine it where it’s needed most.
So now, when people wrinkle their nose at me, when I sense the subtle recoil because I didn’t perform warmth the way they expected, I don’t spiral (as much) anymore.
I remember: kindness isn’t always cozy.
Sometimes it’s fierce.
Sometimes it’s awkward.
Sometimes it’s quiet and invisible and looks like walking away from what everyone else claps for.
I may not be everyone’s cup of tea.
But I’ve spent years steeping in something stronger.
Love today,
Heather 🌸
A Blessing for Those Who’ve Never Been Nice Enough:
May you be kind enough to speak the truth.
Kind enough to hold the line.
Kind enough to walk your own path even if it’s misunderstood.
May you be too sacred to be nice.
And just human enough to keep trying anyway.
🕯️ PS: I’ve included a link to The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches in this post — a book that handed me language I didn’t know I needed. If you purchase through that link, I may earn a small commission as an Amazon affiliate. It doesn’t cost you anything extra, but it helps support my writing and coffee habit. Thank you for being here. 🌙