Why Being Nice Isn't All That

In a world awash in blatant insults, it can be hard to recognise the value of tough love

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BY SOME COMBO of genetics and luck (both good and bad), I’ve never been a physically powerful person. My 5’2’’, shrimpy, less-than ideal-muscle-mass stature has always placed me on the wrong side of somatic prowess. Yet despite this, I have always felt strong. Like, strong enough to medal in the Olympic heavyweight competition. OK, maybe not gold, but I’m definitely on the awards stand.

In high school, I came to the realisation that my rather delusional sense of strength actually had an attributable source: it came from being nice to others. Acts of kindness gave me an endorphin boost and made me feel emotionally and physically strong. After I made this connection, I spent most of my days considering and implementing acts of nicety. I had a real handle on kindness. I knew it inside and out and could generate it like a beast.