Florence King
How niceness became the eighth deadly sin for women
We’re increasingly enjoined not to be nice. We seem to be listening
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Fredericksburg, Virginia
I have come a long way with feminism. When it first hit the fan in the early 1970s I was living in a thin-walled apartment next to a woman who held assertiveness-training workshops that included bloodcurdling shouts of ‘This steak is tough! I demand to see the manager!’ Now, 40 years later, assertiveness is all about careers. The new steak is the glass ceiling that women can’t cut through because they are still too ‘nice’ to ask for a promotion and a raise, and the new shout is, ‘This job doesn’t pay enough! I demand to see the company president!’ Books by female executives have given them their marching orders: stop apologising, remember the new swear word is ‘sorry’, and above all, forget about being ‘nice’.
Above all, they certainly have done that. Niceness is the eighth deadly sin for any self-respecting feminist. Women protesting the establishment stances of male politicians routinely hurl challenges of ‘Man up!’ or ‘Put on your man-pants!’ and even ‘Grow a pair!’ Moreover, they make sure their own pairs are on view when they go on TV. The plunging neckline, once strictly reserved for after six, can be seen on the morning news, the noon news, breaking news, cooking shows and the weather report. The cleavage is not intended to be seductive but competitive, and it has caught on so fast that nobody feels self-conscious about it. A ‘nice’ girl would rather die than expose herself on TV, but who cares about being ‘nice’ when there are viewing figures to think of?
Euphemisms are a form of niceness that women invented so as not to seem crass. About the only euphemism left nowadays is ‘pro-choice’. It really means ‘pro-abortion’ but you can’t say that because a feminist demands the right to combine career and motherhood and that requires motherhood.
For the woman who really wants to divest herself of niceness for the sake of combining career and motherhood, pregnancy offers the ultimate win: declare the slightest objection to prima facie evidence of discrimination and sue everybody in sight under America’s new first amendment, ‘Diversity rocks!’
At least niceness is not quite dead. I was cheered to hear the other day that Wimbledon officials had ruled that only white underpants may be worn. It was another way of saying that women who wear bright colours obviously want them to show. Calling them ‘underpants’ was also significant: it automatically rules out thongs.