I’ve always considered myself a bit of a rebel. Even as a teenager, it was clear that fate had given me too strong a sense of justice to stay quiet. If something felt unfair, I spoke up. Even if it wasn’t my business. Even if it could cause trouble. And it did. With teachers, classmates, and the system. I couldn’t accept the logic of “it’s not your problem” when someone was clearly facing injustice.
This rebellious spirit and desire to change the world haven’t faded over the years. Honestly, I hope they never do. Approaching forty, I still believe we’re truly young as long as we feel connected to what’s happening around us. That we’re not just victims but active participants in the world. That we have both the right and responsibility to respond, question, and challenge. Losing that isn’t wisdom—it’s burnout.
What’s changed isn’t my inner resistance, but my approach. I’ve learned that not every fight gains value by being loud. Not every injustice calls for a response fueled by anger. I’m not saying there isn’t cruelty or unfairness that still makes my blood boil. But for the everyday, small, ongoing clashes, I now choose a different way.
I Choose Kindness
In a world where stepping on others has become the norm, where our first reaction is to get offended or attack, where everyone pushes their own interests with elbows, volume, and cynicism, I choose kindness. Not out of naivety. Not because I don’t see what’s going on around us. But precisely because I do.
Kindness has an incredibly disarming power. Speaking from experience, when someone approaches me with hostility for no clear reason—like a rude, provocative comment under one of my social media posts—I don’t respond with anger. Even though I could. After all, I’m a writer and could shut anyone down with a single sentence in no time. But I know where that leads: another pointless argument where no one listens, and everyone just shouts louder.
Instead, I take a different approach: I greet them kindly. I thank them for their comment. And I answer as honestly as I can the question they probably didn’t ask out of genuine interest but to stir conflict. The reactions are often surprising, as if the other person suddenly loses their grip. As if they weren’t prepared for this script.
My experience is that people are incredibly frustrated. Tired. Overwhelmed. Carrying unspoken anger that they need to release somewhere.
The digital world and everyday little disagreements create the perfect setting for this: consequences-free, fast, and often impersonal. But when someone doesn’t engage in the sniping, doesn’t pick up the gloves, and instead responds with kindness, it often throws them off. It’s like they suddenly remember: arguing isn’t the only way to release tension. Human conversation is possible. Respectful tone is possible. Genuine connection is possible. And these can help us feel better.
Of course, this method doesn’t always work. Not with everyone. And it doesn’t have to succeed every time. Kindness isn’t a magic weapon or an obligation. But for me, it’s becoming a conscious choice—a quiet form of resistance against a culture that teaches us only loud, aggressive, cynical reactions count.
“Kill them with kindness,” the English say. I’d rather put it this way: don’t wear yourself down by constantly being at war.
Kindness, to me, is not backing down but strength. It’s a sign that I won’t let the world’s harshness turn me into someone I don’t want to be. And if that’s resistance, I wear it proudly.
