Inner Bitch

The hag is not nice. The hag hates the word “nice.” Nice is a trap. It’s a bottomless pit of quicksand. There is no end to nice. When you put others before yourself, there’s a never ending parade of people waiting to jump the line. In pursuit of the ever elusive “Nice,” I negate my opinion, my passion, my point of view. I negate myself.

I’m sure that Rosa Parks was a lovely woman, but if she had been “nice” on the bus that day in Montgomery, where would we be now? Nice gets you nowhere.

Anger is power. When I suppress my anger, I suppress my power. I’m not always right, I make mistakes, but dammit, I’m going to speak my mind and take the consequences. If that makes people uncomfortable, so be it.

The leader of the organization I work for has a big poster over his desk that says “YES.” It irritates the shit out of me. No has power. No has meaning. It's easy to agree with everything and everybody; it takes an adult to say no.

I can already hear the whispers of “bitch” in the background. So be it. I hereby relinquish responsibility for other people’s feelings and embrace my inner bitch.