When I was growing up the most important thing for a girl to be was "nice." You could be in danger of choking on a mouthful of venom when you would swallow hard (venom doesn’t go down easily), smile and say something "nice." Mothers didn’t whisper, "Be tough" when their daughters were faced with an altercation. They whispered, "Be nice" in that tone that clearly indicated that you would be in big trouble if you told the neighborhood brat what was really on your mind. You could defile the memory of several generations of ancestors by actually speaking your mind – unless of course your mind was as pure as the Blessed Virgin Mother.
I was a dutiful daughter. What I lacked in studiousness and restraint with my boyfriend I made up for in niceness. I smiled at all my parents’ old-people-friends, never said a mean word to anyone, and developed a total inability to utter the word “no” when asked to do something to help someone. Anyone. I had to force myself to hang up on obscene phone callers without the obligatory, "It was nice talking to you."
There were drawbacks to being wholly conditioned to such a degree of felicitousness. Throughout my entire life I found myself spending inordinate amounts of time with people I would just as soon have avoided altogether. Guys I didn’t like were encouraged to ask me out because I was so "nice" to them. And, of course I couldn’t say no – it seemed so "not nice." I remember one frustrated admirer whom I found totally repugnant calling me late at night to demand that I tell him whether or not there was a chance for us. It took all the courage I had to "nicely" say that although I found him almost irresistibly attractive, and would love to be his friend – gulp - "no."
When I became an adult I found myself on committees and Boards I had absolutely no interest in. But it wouldn’t be "nice" to decline the invitation. Declining would mean having to say the dreaded "no." I kept employees on-staff despite their lack of any applicable skills, and spent hours listening to my parents’ German neighbor, Dr. Ludwig Von Feindershmaker, explain the neurological nuances of neoplastic diseases. At least that one gave me the approval from my mother that I still crave: "That was "nice" of you to listen to Ludwig for so long, dear."
Girls today don’t appear to be burdened at all with the overwhelming need to be "nice." They call each other the "B" word – to their faces! They confront neighbors over unpaid babysitting fees, and turn boys down for dates without so much as an explanation of how much they admire them and would love to go out with them if only they hadn’t scheduled waxings for both weekend nights.
Some of it is good, of course. Their directness allows them more control of their own lives. They rely less on feedback from others and more on their own perceptions of their self-worth. They will waste far less time on people and events that don’t interest them. They will undoubtedly feel better about themselves for being true to who they really are.
But wasn’t the world just a little more pleasant when girls said things like, "I'm so glad to see you," instead of "Yo, Bitchface?" And isn’t there a possibility that you feel better about yourself if you make someone else feel good, instead of being a little too honest about how you feel about them?
Like everything in life – there should be a happy medium. We should be allowed to say "no" without worrying that someone won’t like us. And we should be able to be true to ourselves without stomping on someone else’s feelings. But we never ever do anything in moderation. If the pendulum swings too far to the left, it simply has to swing back too far to the right. So, as direct and abrasive as young girls seem today, we would have to assume that their daughters will be more like we were as girls. That will be nice.
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