Do you remember writing acrostic poems in elementary school? Where you take the first letter of a word and write a line that starts with that letter? I remember doing it for my name a lot – it was a common assignment. In second grade we did the acrostic exercise as a class for each other’s names, picking a descriptive word that was supposed to embody the person.
I remember this because there is only one word ever used for N: Nice.
I hated that.
Every time I was described as nice – by peers or teachers – it was a clear signal that they didn’t know me. Nice felt like a cheap stand-in for the quiet kid who didn’t make trouble.
Of course, I want to think of myself as kind. But I’ve resented the “nice girl” armor for a long time. When I hear it used to describe myself, I balk. It’s like when someone gets surprised that I swear. Have you fucking met me?
Last weekend I received an unexpected card from two of my best friends. They sent it in solidarity for April 21 and the love and gratitude I felt had me crying on the edge of my bed.
One of them, Cara, wrote this acrostic poem:
Not taking any of your shit
Always badness, brave, and bi
Totally awesome (and better at HP trivia than you)
Amazing at literally everything and so fucking smart
Loves fiercely
Incredibly passionate and cares about things and people so much
Endlessly magical
How blessed am I, to be known like that?
With Love,
Natalie