The Goodie-to-Cynic Pipeline
What Will People Say?
“But Nne, is it bad to be known for being good?”
“Yes mom, it is.”
March and April were quiet, introspective months. Moons where I took time to think about the meaning of life and identity. I wanted to share my findings.
I had this conversation with the woman that brought me into this life in March, after being perceived and judged by some around me based on my appearance and my expression. Hotgirllery and rugged individualism may not have its place in my world, after all. Which is sad. I’m still trying to find my balance with that. Being a “good” Christian woman and being a human being. I fought all my life to be the former that I never quite figured out what it meant to be the latter.
I told Mumsy what they said to me. How they thought my clothes were too tight, too revealing. Unbecoming of a Christian woman. That I stuck out for the wrong reasons. Pencil skirts, y’all. How I used too many “I’s” when explaining myself. That wouldn’t be the first time I’d been called selfish for just being. Then I shared what I, in turn, said to them. How I wasn’t perfect by any means, but spent most of my life within the lines. Making sure I didn’t say or do “too much”. Only sharing the most castrated version of myself and calling it “refined”. I was always well-behaved, and by and large I was insignificant and easily overlooked. But now that I dress how I want to, speak how I want to, and do what I want to, that’s a problem, too.
“Goodness” in the traditional sense, especially for women, is based on our utility, not on intrinsic qualities. She’s so sweet. She’s so kind. Nurturing. None of these things are bad within themselves, but these all serve others. When the sacrifice is stripped away, what is it they see in you? What will they put on your tombstone?
Mumsy probed further, “Why do you say that?”
I used her as an example. “The people that love you love you for who you are, not solely for how easy you make their lives.”
“I understand.”
“And some that hate you see something in you that they don’t have that they perhaps wish they did. Which is still a form of admiration.”
“Nne, fine. Who are you, then?”
I paused to measure my response. I’m balanced. While I’m not saying we should all be self-serving pricks, I don’t want to simply be a tool for the comfort of others. The human equivalent to a Swiss army knife. There’s a line to toe. It’s OK for you to be mad at me, but I won’t make decisions that leave me mad at myself.
“I want to be known for my love. I love my family, my friends, God. I’m sensitive. I care. And I show up. And that I’m opinionated and I’m honest.”
I don’t feel like finding my autonomy is in vehement opposition with the community of those I love and their expectations of me. We all need each other in one way or another, and the same way I need them is the same way they need me. I’m just in the strange limbo of being a good woman to others while also being one to myself and not denying my humanness to keep the peace.
There is no resolution as of now, but I wanted to share anyway. Don’t erode into “goodness” as performance. Be a woman that loves and shares with others, but never forgets to share that same grace and love with herself.