This is, however, a kind magazine.
There is a difference, one that
everyone should have a basic understanding of, for the sake of those around
them.
Nice is: pleasant, agreeable.
Kind is a good and benevolent
nature, humane.
Nice is fake. Kind is real.
But realness comes with a dose of
reality. So, proceed with caution, dear reader: can you be kind?
If so, here is a story to show you
kindness and niceness and real and fake and all the pain that can exist in the
margins.
Yesterday, my neighbor’s baby died
in his crib. She called me to say that her other two boys would not be coming
over to play with my daughters, because she had to go to the hospital and sign
for an autopsy.
He was 11 weeks old.
Now, here’s some backstory to aid
you in this: She is LDS. I am, at best, agnostic. My neighborhood is 98% LDS.
We have lived here 5 months. I’m from other states, other faiths. But when she
walked past my house 5 months ago, and we met for the first time, I offered to
make her meals when she had her baby, because that’s what you do for a pregnant
neighbor. She was surprised but grateful.
I was approached by the Relief Society
president a few weeks later, because she wanted me to know that I didn’t need
to “be nice” and take my neighbor meals, because the Ward would take care of
her. I felt my heart get cold. She told me that they were talking about me at
church, because they didn’t know why I would want to help out. I told her that I would still be taking her
meals, despite the ward’s opinion.
When she had her sweet little boy,
I took her a meal when the Relief Society told me I had a “slot”. And then I kept
going. I took them fresh baked bread every Friday for Sabbath. I took her snack
boxes for her boys. I babysat for her when she was exhausted. Not to be nice,
not because Relief Society gave me an assignment. I was being kind.
Yesterday, after letting her sob
in my arms, I was walking home. I was approached by the Relief Society members
again. They asked me how she was doing, because I was the first person she had
reached out to since the ambulances left. I shared that she needed some
groceries, and I was going to get them for her in the morning. They immediately
told me that I didn’t need to, that they had it covered. And that I wasn’t responsible
for her in the coming weeks, that they had a schedule drawn up for who was
going over and when. They were going to take her boys for her, and send meals
every night for the next two weeks. I wasn’t needed.
My heart broke. This woman is my
friend. This baby was important to me. But I’m on the outside of this
community, and I’m not allowed in.
And while some may say that their
response was from a place of kindness, I disagree. This is niceness. It’s a
curated experience, without considering all the human emotions involved in the
process.
Utah is insular. Insular means “ignorant
of or uninterested in cultures, ideas, or peoples outside one's own experience”.
This magazine is meant
to show that this insular experience creates an island, one that ostracizes
others unless they conform. It’s subtle, and candy-coated, but after 12 years,
I know how it feels.
If
your kindness carried you all the way to this sentence, thank you. This collection
of writing comes from the margins of my heart, where I mourn with those who
mourn. These are my words, my experiences with others. If you learn one thing
here, let it be this:
Don’t
be nice. Be kind.
And
don’t forget to take a sailboat and explore the ocean, too.
Kate Rowan
Editor, Receptive Magazine