When I was 18, someone told me I was “too nice” and that wasn’t good for me to be nicer than necessary. I had to be nice, nice enough to not be mean, but I shouldn’t be nicer, or else, it implied I was weak; therefore, letting people take advantage of me.

Now at 23, looking back at that conversation, I can’t help but think how stupid this statement was. I remember being naïve, accepting her thoughts, taking them into consideration, but never did anything about “being less nice.” I couldn’t change, and honestly, I didn’t want to change. I was raised by parents who believed in the power of serving and helping others. I can clearly recall them always telling me that our purpose as humans, on this earth, is to help others. I therefore stayed the same, and I thought, “maybe I’m too nice, and if someone asks me for help, whether they‘re taking advantage of me, or not, at least they’d have an idea of kindness, and perhaps, they’ll want to spread that kindness on their turn.”

You might probably think right now, “She’s too naïve and arrogant.” You’re damn right I was because it didn’t take long for me to change and become the worst person you could ever meet. What happened from when I was 18 until 23 years old is that I met people from my community. I am Coptic Orthodox, meaning “Christian of Egypt,” and what I failed to know back then was that Coptic Orthodox people from generations dating from 30 years ago are not the same as today’s Copts. You see, nowadays, Copts who decide to leave Egypt and immigrate to Canada were raised by an Islamic-influenced mentality.

PLEASE NOTE: I am in no way bashing my Coptic community: I am aware that not all Copts of today, or of 30 years ago, are strictly labeled to these categories. I love and embrace Coptic traditions, culture, etc. since I was born. I am also not bashing Islam, as I have Muslim friends; I’m just stating how conservative Egypt has become.

However, from a young age, I always knew that Coptic people were judgmental. When, in high school, I started telling people I would study in arts later on in my life, I was told things like: “Oh, but what will you become with a degree like that? A janitor? Will you even survive? Arts are so easy, that’s why you’re choosing it! (I’ve heard this from all people, by the way, except from White people)” I couldn’t care less what they thought. I could handle this type of ignorance, yet little did I know it’d get worse.

Little did I know I’d encounter racism and sexism in one body or several bodies in my own Church.

Little did I know I’d meet jealousy disguised in the face of an angel, ripping a person apart.

Little did I know reputation matters more than education, more than a person’s spiritual life.

Little did I know being born in Canada automatically means assimilating to a new culture and erasing our culture of origin, like “oh, you’re born here, your Arabic is broken, you’re not like us, you don’t know Egypt like we do, you probably live sinfully like your White friends.” Sorry, but have you raised me?

Little did I know hate rules over our Lord’s Love like dictatorship over democracy.

Little did I know gossiping was a trend.

Little did I know forgiveness costs way too much to be given, but holding grudges is free, and even a tradition nicer than Easter.

Little did I know people are too cheap to support others’ businesses, art pieces, etc.

Little did I know families end up in competition with one another.

Little did I know I’d be broken like being run over by a truck.

Well, if a truck runs over you, you’re probably dead.

That’s exactly what I was: dead.

What killed me was how the girl who claimed to be my friend stabbed me as soon as she thought I’d steal any guy she liked. Girl, fix your trust issues, I was raised to be respectful and respected, and I don’t “steal” people, for God’s sake.

What killed me was how one of my friends and his boys didn’t greet my Haitian besties and looked at my mom like she was a freak for welcoming Black people into our home. But then, when they left the party too early, they claimed they had to “sleep early for church tomorrow.”

What killed me was to hear people talk about how shameful it is for a girl to lose her virginity like it’s a crime against humanity. Ok, but what about guys? And by the way, don’t you pray to saints like King David, Saint Mary of Egypt, or Saint Moses the Black? You don’t judge them, right? I’m assuming you love them and look up to them… So why not give a chance to our children in our church who unfortunately never got to talk about these “things” because these “things” were always “haram” (taboo)? Please, read the Bible a little more carefully next time before freaking the hell out of your kids.

What killed me was to hear people judging children they’d call delinquents like murders when all they need is love and help. Simultaneously, no one ever speaks about the bullies in church who give wedgies to the “weak” children, leaving them crying in the bathroom floor.

What killed me was to hear parents defending their children’s impoliteness like, “So what, we’re in church, it’s no big deal!” Yeah, but you wouldn’t let that happen if they were in school, work, or even in court, right?

What killed me was to see a lady glaring at a White woman and her White children, and then ask me, “Who is this?” to which I replied, “my cousin’s wife.” You should’ve seen the look on her face.

What killed me was to witness people treating patients who see psychologists like they’re crazy, mentally disabled, as if depression, anxiety, and other mental diseases were things from hell.

What killed me was to hear someone making fun of a person’s drug addiction, while they themselves have taken weed in their past, and were furiously defending their gay family member. Um, first, stop your hypocrisy, it doesn’t make you look better than anyone, and second, all sins are equal before God, in case you didn’t know.

What killed me was to see servants take over church services like they suddenly owned a company. For the love of God, that doesn’t make you more popular, or look nicer, you’re better than that.

What killed me was to hear that women are inferior to men and are made to smile, have their legs crossed, take care of kids, and be gentle. They can’t be too loud or laugh loudly, give hugs to guys (or they’d look easy, trying too hard), or be angry. In other words, they can’t be assertive and confident the way men are, or they’d look like b*tches (forgive my language). However, when she’s too nice, she’s too weak, she has no personality. Oh God help me, they don’t know what they want, but they sure as hell don’t want me to be me.

What killed me was to hear about priests encouraging marriages they knew would be led to failure and put families against each other. What a way to fuel up the devil’s dreams!

What killed me was to meet “spiritual guides” backstabbing people from church and encouraging the youth to rebel against their parents instead of explaining and teaching them the godly truth behind obedience. Another way to confuse the Holy Spirit inside people’s soul and let the devil lead the way!

What killed me was to be told to not dress the way I wanted, to not practice my art explicitly (in other words, without holding back), and to please people. Well, pleasing people led me to the death of my soul. I hated myself more than ever because I understood pleasing people as making others happy, while in fact, it was me being a fool for loving people who didn’t/wouldn’t love me back no matter how much I tried. 

I haven’t necessarily gone through all these situations, but I’ve seen and heard so many them. I could add more situations to the list, but I think you get the idea now.

When I look back to that specific moment at 18 years old, when my colleague (who isn’t Coptic FYI) told me I shouldn’t be too nice, I tend to think she was right. What’s funny is that I thought people outside of my community would break me, but that never happened actually.

What I want you to know is this: if anyone tells you you’re too nice, or too this, or too that, smile politely, say goodbye, and leave. It’s probably the devil wanting you to be bad. Don’t change. Honestly, think about it: if people criticize, judge, and hate you for being super nice, then there’s something wrong about our society, not you. We have never, are never, and will never be too nice. And we currently live in a time and age where kindness is needed more than ever.

Ok now, my rage is out, or almost out… I just gotta listen to Rihanna singing, “‘cause all of my kindness is taken for weakness…” and sing along with her and make my neighbours shut me up because I stop them from sleeping.

See ya in another post.