“In a world where you can be anything, be kind.” ~Unknown
As my boss grappled with explaining the nuances between raising boys and girls, uttering the words “Girls are mean!”, I nodded in somber agreement. While I couldn’t speak to the experience of raising boys, the memories of my daughters’ childhoods came flooding back. In their world, girls moved in tight-knit packs, with a clear leader at the forefront. Each week seemed to bring a new victim of exclusion, and all too often, it was one of my daughters who faced the cold shoulder. I vividly recall the heart – wrenching pain in their eyes, the kind of sorrow that only a child can feel when the foundation of their social world crumbles.
But the social landscape was ever – shifting. Just as abruptly as they were cast out, they could be welcomed back with open arms, as if the agonizing experience of rejection had never occurred. And once safely reinstated, they, too, would join in the cycle, inflicting the same pain on others, all in a bid to stay in the good graces of the group’s leader. It’s easy to dismiss this as mere “girl drama,” but is there more to it? I found myself pondering: is meanness a learned behavior, or is it hard – wired into our very nature? Strangely enough, the answer came from an unexpected source—my horse.
From Outcast to Enforcer: The Animalistic Reflection
When I moved my horse to a new stable, she had to integrate into an unfamiliar herd. The dominant mare wasted no time making her feelings clear—my horse was not welcome. For two long weeks, I would arrive to find her standing alone on the periphery, yearning for the hay that was off – limits. She would run to me, her eyes pleading for help, a sight that mirrored the heartbreak of my daughters.
But over time, something remarkable happened. My horse gradually earned her place. She ingratiated herself with the top mare, and they became inseparable. And then, she started to turn on the other horses, asserting her own dominance. Watching this transformation was deeply unsettling. It made me realize that this wasn’t an act of cruelty; it was an instinct, a primal drive for survival. And as I thought more about it, I began to see these same survival – based rules playing out in human social interactions.
In our world, we may not use teeth and hooves to establish dominance, but we have our own ways of maintaining the social hierarchy. The hushed whispers, the inside jokes at someone else’s expense, and the subtle acts of inclusion and exclusion—all are manifestations of this instinct. It made me wonder: had I also been playing this game, shifting and adapting, excluding others not out of malice but out of a deep – seated need to belong?
Were We the Mean Girls? A Self – Reflective Journey
Looking back on my own school days, I didn’t have a clear memory of “mean girls.” But perhaps that was the problem—I was so immersed in the dynamics that I failed to see my own role. I never considered myself a cruel person, yet there were moments that now make me wince with regret.
There was a girl named Claire in my class. She was intelligent and talented, with a passion for speech and drama. One day, in a rare moment of vulnerability, she shared that as a child, her parents had sent her to those classes to help her overcome a speech impediment. She had worked hard, and in that moment, she was trusting us with a personal part of her story.
Our response was anything but kind. We laughed, and worse, we turned her confession into a cruel joke. Every time she was around, we’d start singing “Words Don’t Come Easy.” At the time, I convinced myself it was harmless teasing, but now, I’m filled with shame. She had been brave enough to open up, and we had used her vulnerability against her. I may not have been the ringleader, but by staying silent and participating, I was just as complicit in the hurt.
Do We Grow Out of It? The Persistence of Meanness
I’d like to believe that such behavior is just a phase, something we outgrow as we mature, as our empathy deepens. After all, children’s brains are still developing, and their actions are often driven by the need to fit in rather than a true desire to cause harm. But the reality is more complex.
In adulthood, meanness doesn’t disappear; it just takes on more subtle forms. Instead of playground exclusions, we have office gossip. Instead of blatant teasing, we use backhanded compliments and judgmental whispers. The methods may change, but the underlying instinct remains.
Breaking the Cycle: A Guide to Choosing Kindness
While the instinct to exclude and judge may be part of our nature, we have something that sets us apart from animals: awareness and the power of choice. Here are some ways we can rise above our baser instincts:
- Recognize the pattern: Start by becoming more aware of the subtle ways meanness shows up in our lives. It could be as simple as an eye – roll or staying silent when someone is being excluded. Ask yourself why you’re acting a certain way, what you stand to gain, and how you would feel if you were on the receiving end.
- Challenge the scarcity mindset: Many of our unkind actions stem from the belief that success and belonging are limited. But in reality, there is enough for everyone. Lifting others up doesn’t diminish our own light; it creates a brighter, more inclusive world.
- Replace gossip with encouragement: Instead of engaging in gossip, make a conscious effort to say something positive about others. Compliments can transform the energy of a conversation and build stronger relationships.
- Make kindness a habit: Kindness doesn’t have to be grand. A smile for a stranger, an invitation to lunch for a lonely colleague, or standing up for someone being talked about—these small acts can have a big impact.
- Teach the next generation: If you have children, talk to them about healthy social dynamics. Share your own experiences and help them develop empathy and self – awareness.
- Be the one who makes room at the table: Look out for those on the fringes of social groups and make an effort to include them. Inclusion is a choice that can change lives.
Every day, in the small, ordinary moments, we have a choice. We can choose to be part of the problem or part of the solution. We can choose to exclude or to include, to tear down or to build up. So, as you go about your day, ask yourself: who needs a seat at your table? And will you be the one to make room?
