Kindness Vs Niceness

Nuga Gahak featuring Priyantha Sirikumara was a new theatre experience - 2025.11.15

We talk a lot about how taste evolves with time; in music, literature, food, and even the people we admire. I don’t know what that says about us exactly, but I do know this: as our taste changes, so does the way we understand the world.

For me, that shift shows up clearly in the people I’m drawn to. If you asked me who my favourite celebrity is, I’d say Trevor Noah. Not because it sounds sophisticated. Not just because he’s good-looking – though he is. It’s the way he delivers comedy: with restraint, respect, and a quiet philosophy underneath the laughter. He doesn’t need to humiliate others to be funny, which already sets him apart.

Another person I admire deeply is Simon Sinek. I’ve written about him before (even about his looks), but what truly draws me in is his emotional intelligence. There’s something undeniably attractive about people who can hold complexity without turning it into noise. I don’t think we quite have many local voices who operate at that level yet, though a few come close. Maybe that, too, will change with time.

Recently, I came across a podcast clip featuring Trevor Noah and Simon Sinek together; a pairing I’m grateful someone thought to make happen. In that clip, they were talking about kindness. More specifically, about how often we confuse kindness with niceness.

Trevor made a distinction that stayed with me. He said that many people are nice, but niceness is often just the ‘performance’ of kindness. Kindness, on the other hand, is an action. And action doesn’t always feel pleasant.

The example he gave was simple but uncomfortable. Imagine someone has something on their face. A nice person might say nothing, not wanting to embarrass them. Polite. Smooth. Everyone stays comfortable. But not kind. A kind person finds a way to tell them, even if it creates a moment of discomfort. Because it ultimately helps.

Niceness protects the moment. Kindness protects the person.

I thought about this again today.

I had to say something difficult to my father.

I had to point out that what he was doing, though well-intentioned, wasn’t truly helping someone. He was trying to solve all their problems for them, easing discomfort temporarily without encouraging a long-term solution. I explained how this could create dependence, how it might quietly harm the very person he was trying to help.

It wasn’t nice.

I apologised for how uncomfortable the conversation was. And even now, it still bothers me. Which is probably why I’m writing this. But I believe it was the kind thing to do.

Because sometimes kindness means stepping into discomfort willingly. Sometimes it means being misunderstood. Sometimes it means risking the warmth of harmony for the honesty of care.

And sometimes, perhaps the hardest part, it means realising you’ve become the adult in the room, even when you’re surrounded by adults.

That part isn’t talked about enough. How unsettling it feels when roles quietly reverse. How lonely it can be to carry responsibility without the authority that usually comes with it. How strange it is to guide the people who once guided you.

Kindness doesn’t come with applause. Often, it comes with doubt, guilt, and lingering unease. But maybe that unease is the price we pay for choosing what helps over what soothes.

And maybe that, too, is a sign of taste changing; not just in what we enjoy, but in what we’re willing to carry.