Better to be kind than right, right?
My dad’s central motto has always been “It’s better to be kind than right.” He was, and still is, the kindest soul I know. He was the type of person to buy extra food in the drive-through for the children we’d pass on the street, eat or drink all of my kitchen concoctions with a smile on his face, and be an inspiring leader to his workmates. So, how do I tell him–wherever he may be in heaven–that as much as I want to promise to follow his word, the world does not treat kindness from young girls like me as gracefully as he does?
I am a 19-year-old girl whose kindness is not only an attribute–it’s a survival tool. It’s something that I’ve had to learn and perpetually equip myself with. Whenever I’m out in public, I have to trust my instincts and be constantly wary of my surroundings.
Is that man following me? Are they staring at me? Is my uniform too revealing for the bus? Could someone recognize me and think I’m easy to kidnap?
These are real thoughts that run through my mind and factors I consider every day. I once stepped onto a relatively full bus and found a seat near the front, just in case. My palms were slippery from sweat, whether from wearing a zip-up even in the intense heat or the pure unease that ran through my veins. I quickly put my hair in a bun so that it wouldn’t get pulled on in any circumstance, and held my bag close to my chest. A man sat in the opposite aisle and every so often would glance at me, and I returned his looks with a stern face. After a while, he dropped his handkerchief, and about a thousand different scenarios ran through my mind–if it was an accident or if he planned for me to grab it for him. As stop after stop passed by, my mind was conflicted on what the “right choice” would be and if I was wrong for immediately thinking cynically. How dare I reduce this random man to the dark possibilities that only lived and breathed in my head? When he left, a mixture of guilt and fear settled in my stomach. Guilt that I didn’t pass on the kindness that my dad had instilled in me. Fear of what might have happened if I had. When I got home, I couldn’t shake what happened. It stuck to me as much as the sweat and scent of gasoline from the bus did. I imagined telling my dad what had happened and asking him if what I did was correct; would he validate my choice, or would he chastise me and say that I was overly pessimistic?
People may say that I’m too anxious or I’m seeing the world in a negative light, but the daily news of people, mostly teenage girls, getting taken and treated as objects even in broad daylight, begs to differ. I would like to stay true to myself and believe that people are inherently good, but what about those who aren’t? How am I supposed to know who is and isn’t thinking I’m vulnerable enough to be taken advantage of?
A similar notion is held in the “Kill All Men” (KAM) movement popularized in 2020. It doesn’t literally aim to kill all biological men; it aims to put into perspective the daily experience of women throughout the world–it’s a flare gun fired by women begging for help when they just want to walk home safely without the piercing stares of men watching them. While living in fear and cautiousness, how are we supposed to be sure of the purity of intentions of those around us? It’s a hyperbolic expression, yes, but it was only born from hypervigilance.
Nothing can ever warrant a human to harass another human–not what they were wearing, not how old they were, not what time it happened. Nothing. Moreover, when women talk about their unfortunate experiences, they shouldn’t be shunned. Whenever I read news articles about women getting harassed, tortured, or killed, an exorbitant majority of the comments are still flooded with those who believe it was the woman’s fault and continue to blame women for each similar occurrence. There is even a disgusting minority of people who praise the man who was guilty of the crime. Women are not objects and should not be treated as such. We do not live for the pleasure and desires of men or any other individual, especially unwarranted.
I circle my life around the possibilities that I wish I didn’t have to consider. The possibilities that I and others shouldn’t have to consider. Because the man that I’ve seen take the same route as me might just be a coincidence, or it might lead me to never walk that route again. If I’m right, I know other ways I can take to make sure. If I’m kind, I could very well underestimate him.
So with a heavy heart, when I’m alone in public, I’m forced to disobey my father beyond the grave. I’m forced to want to be right rather than kind, because kindness from girls like me doesn’t feel any better.
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Maya Alessandra Ozo, 19, is a humanities and social sciences student at the University of the Philippines Integrated School.
