I Am Not a Nice Girl

Summary

Bonnie Knapton reflects on the societal labels and expectations imposed on women from childhood, challenging the notion of being a "nice girl" and advocating for a recognition of women's multifaceted nature.

Abstract

In the article "I Am Not a Nice Girl," Bonnie Knapton delves into the concept of labels and how they shape women's identities from the moment they are in the womb. She recounts her personal experiences with societal expectations, such as being polite, submissive, and always agreeable, which she equates to being controlled and silenced. Knapton discusses the impact of these expectations on women's understanding of consent and their roles in society. She argues that women are often conditioned to suppress their emotions, comply with others' demands, and prioritize everyone else's needs above their own. The article emphasizes the complexity of women's identities, rejecting the simplistic "nice girl" label and embracing the full spectrum of their humanity, including their capacity for emotion, creativity, and destruction. Knapton concludes by encouraging women to recognize their inherent value beyond societal labels and to embrace their true, multifaceted selves.

Opinions

The author believes that societal expectations begin in the womb and are reinforced throughout a woman's life, dictating how they should behave and interact with others.
She suggests that the traditional upbringing of girls to be "ladylike" and "nice" is a form of control that stifles their autonomy and emotional expression.
The article posits that the conditioning of girls to be compliant and selfless contributes to a distorted understanding of consent and personal boundaries.
Knapton criticizes the double standards faced by women, who are often judged for their appearance and behavior, regardless of their actions or intentions.
She expresses that women are more than the roles and labels society assigns them, such as being just a mother or a sexual object.
The author emphasizes that women encompass a wide range of attributes, including being radical, ferocious, and creative, and should not be confined to being "nice."
Knapton asserts that women's emotions, such as rage and melancholy, are natural and should be acknowledged and expressed rather than suppressed.
She encourages readers to see beyond labels and recognize the universe-like complexity within every individual, especially women.

Our stories are written within our mother’s womb

Our labels began as we swam within the warmth of our mother’s womb. Within our secluded home, our story is beginning to be written for us, before we even take our first breath. My very first label was given to me through the natural compass of my gender.

I would be ladylike. I would be polite. I would be nice to everyone no matter what. This meant as a child, I would need to say hello to everyone, and I would need to hug and kiss those family members/friends when they wanted to. My face would be touched, my hair would be stroked and I would be picked up whenever they wanted, and placed on their laps. Oh, aren’t you just so very cute? —( I wonder if they really mean submissive.)

I believe this is where many women’s morphed understanding of consent comes from. I had to do what I was told. I would stay in line. I would be quiet unless spoken to. Oh my, isn’t she so well-behaved? How sweet, she is so polite. — In reality, I was scared. Controlled. Forced to stay small. Taught to not kick up a fuss with my very human emotions. No paddies, no answering back. No anger, no tears. I was a nice girl.

Our chosen name carries an intention. I have never met a soul whose name didn’t blend perfectly with their personality. Names carry softness. History. Mythology. Ancestry. They make love with a belief system, a hierarchy or a memory. It’s the foundation of our very first label.

Then, usually unconsciously, we are conditioned depending on our core. We are given a platter of expectations. We are submerged into the beliefs and values of our guardians. Our environment begins to moulds us.

A part of being a nice girl was to be happy and helpful. My role was to have the sweetest high voice. To not speak over people. To have an animated smile engraved on my face. To offer endless water from my empty cup. ‘No’ was an unheard word. I had barely heard it spoken. I had seen endless giving and care from my mother, too afraid to place boundaries that I too, embodied this gift and a curse. I see it a lot in women. We are taught it is not nice to say no.

The labels expanded with each new experience. When I was 6 years old, I became the girl with cancer. I was the cancer. “Stay away from her, you’ll catch cancer.” I was the weird girl with warts on her hands and the skin tag on her nose, from the concoction of cancer treatments I was on. I was the baby for having a lay-down wheelchair, as I spent a lot of my time sleeping. I was a boy as I had no hair. I was a freak as I wore a wig.

Growing up as a girl, into a woman, the labelling contradictions were endless. They still are. Expected to be attractive, but attention-seeking or slutty if you attract attention. I was untrustworthy for being pretty. I was a slag for dating someone who was still with their girlfriend, even though I would have never been a part of it if they had told me this was the case. When my curves began to form, and my style came through, I was only a body, not a person. I’ve been argumentative for speaking my truth. I’ve been crazy for sticking up for myself.

I’ve completely lost my mind when I’ve shed light on the truth of my abuse. I am disgusting for smoking cigarettes, desired through immense stress. I’m stupid for all of my ADHD symptoms. I have mental health issues. I am broken, needing to be fixed. I am his woman. I am stay-at-home mum. I’m expected to do more and more and more than everyone in the household, as I don’t go to work.

I’m starting a business, taking care of a baby on my own, and embodying my writing career — but all I do is clean and change nappies. I’m no longer Bonnie, I am Mamma. Mamma to everyone — it’s rare I hear my name or am asked anymore.

I am so much more than just nice. I’m not just playing my role as mamma. I’m multi-dimensional. I’m radical. I’m ferocious. I’m expressive and passionate. I’m wild, creative and carefree. I birth life and new worlds. I am goddess of destruction. I am sensation. I am culture. I’m of the earth and a chaotic natural disaster. I’m not less than, for having human emotions. I am not a social expectation or experiment. I am every stereotype, yet none of them at all. To be purely woman has nothing to do with me. I have rage and deep melancholy in my soul.

We spend lifetimes being taught to keep it inside, how could we not have a storm brewing inside of us? I am everything. I am a babe, a toddler, a teenager, an adult and a wise elder all as one. I am not a nice girl. I’m a multi-faceted human being, with intricate layers and worlds within me. I can only describe myself as the universe. And we are the same. The labels that have been distorted and gift-wrapped in your name — are tactics to subdue your timeless infinity.

— If any of you kind souls would like to support my work ❤ https://ko-fi.com/wildlyrooted

Thank you so dearly for being here with me — this piece was inspired by Modern Women’s beautiful prompt: Labels

I Am Not a Nice Girl

Our stories are written within our mother’s womb

Modern Women: October Writing Prompts

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