It’s Kindness Week. Everywhere you turn, there are reminders to “be kind.” Schools, offices, public campaigns—your social media feed is likely drowning in cheerful banners encouraging small acts of generosity. Smile more. Say please and thank you. Hold the door. Help your neighbour. Nice, easy, approachable. But here’s a question worth pausing over: is being kind the same as being nice?
In Southeast Asia, where I live, the distinction is often blurred. Being nice is equated with being kind. In Singapore, Malaysia, Indonesia, even Thailand, cultural norms emphasise harmony, respect for elders, and maintaining smooth interpersonal relationships. To say “no” too firmly is often considered rude; to confront someone openly is seen as aggressive. Being “nice” to others—polite, agreeable, accommodating—is praised. And from a young age, children are taught that kindness is about pleasing others, keeping the peace, and not causing friction.
But here’s the subtle misconception: being nice is only one way to be kind, and sometimes, it is not kindness at all. In fact, excessive niceness can erode our well-being. Psychologists have repeatedly found that chronic people-pleasers—those who overextend themselves to satisfy others—experience higher levels of stress, anxiety, and burnout (American Psychological Association, 2020). In other words, trying to be nice to everyone often comes at the expense of being nice to yourself.
Take my own life, for example. A friend asked me to babysit her cat for a week while she went on holiday. I agreed, even though Freddie—the feline terror of my apartment—was already my personal challenge. I spent nights tiptoeing around him, double-checking his food, and cleaning up hair tumbleweeds the size of small planets. I was being “nice.” I was not being kind—to myself. By the end of the week, I realised that kindness sometimes involves recognising your limits. Saying no to my friend would have been a kind act, preserving both my sanity and my relationship with Freddie (and with her).
Consider this common scenario in workplaces: your colleague asks for help on a project, even though your own workload is overflowing. You say yes. You stay late, skip lunch, and cancel plans with a friend. You feel obligated to be “nice,” but by the end of the week, you are exhausted, resentful, and frustrated. You may have earned praise for being cooperative, but at what cost? Kindness, in the truest sense, requires discernment. Sometimes, saying no is the kindest act—not just for yourself, but for the integrity of the work and relationships involved.
Herein lies the catch-22: in cultures where being nice is equated with being kind, saying no or drawing boundaries can feel like a betrayal. You risk social disapproval, misunderstandings, and even guilt. Yet, not saying no can lead to overstretching yourself, creating resentment, and ultimately diminishing your capacity for genuine kindness. You are trapped between the expectation to be agreeable and the moral imperative to take care of yourself.
Kindness sometimes also requires moral courage. Imagine witnessing a co-worker being unfairly criticised in a meeting. Staying silent keeps the harmony intact—you remain “nice.” But stepping in to support your colleague may ruffle feathers, make you unpopular, or even provoke backlash. Yet this act—speaking up, defending someone, challenging injustice—is deeply kind. As Brené Brown says, “Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves, even when we risk disappointing others.” In these moments, kindness is not always pleasant, and it is not always easy.
Southeast Asian culture adds another layer to this dynamic. In societies that value collectivism, community, and harmony, “being nice” is often socially rewarded more than bold acts of kindness. Children are taught to respect authority and elders, to be polite and obedient, and to avoid direct confrontation. Saying no to family obligations, politely disagreeing with a superior, or correcting someone older can be seen as selfish or disrespectful. Thus, the “kindness equals niceness” mindset becomes almost a cultural imperative.
Yet, folklore and myths from the region illustrate that kindness is rarely about mere niceness. Take the Malay folktale of Bawang Putih and Bawang Merah. Bawang Putih, the kind-hearted protagonist, is initially too accommodating to her step-sister’s cruelty. She is nice, obedient, and patient—but this does not earn her immediate reward. Her real kindness is revealed when she stands by her values, acts with integrity, and chooses honesty and compassion over blind niceness. The tale reminds us that true kindness is moral and principled; it is not about being agreeable to everyone.
Even in Chinese folklore, stories like the Good Samaritan adaptations in Southeast Asia or Confucian teachings emphasise discernment in kindness. A good deed is not measured by superficial politeness, but by the courage, thoughtfulness, and integrity behind it. Kindness may sometimes involve tough decisions, saying no, or challenging others for a greater good.
Singapore’s Kindness Week has been actively promoted for several years, and in my view, it has achieved remarkable resonance. Public campaigns in schools, community centres, and workplaces encourage citizens to engage in small but meaningful acts: offering assistance to elderly neighbours, complimenting strangers, or volunteering for social causes. The campaign’s success, I believe, is partly due to Singapore’s unique living conditions and culture. Dense urban living encourages interaction and interdependence, yet also poses stress and competition. Kindness campaigns offer a tangible reminder that we are connected and that small gestures of care matter. At the same time, Singaporeans value pragmatism and efficiency; campaigns that highlight actionable kindness resonate more than abstract ideals.
But even within this context, it is essential to distinguish between being kind and being nice. Encouraging kindness without nuance may reinforce the cultural expectation to avoid confrontation and over-accommodate others. True kindness requires balance: generosity tempered with self-respect, empathy tempered with boundaries, and helpfulness tempered with discernment.
Research supports this balance. A study by Kristin Neff at the University of California, Berkeley (2019) found that self-compassion improves emotional resilience and overall mental health. People who practice self-kindness are better able to extend genuine kindness to others without burning out. This has profound implications for societies like ours, where social harmony and being agreeable are culturally valued. By normalising the idea that saying no and drawing boundaries is a form of kindness, we create a healthier, more sustainable culture of care.
Here’s a simple example that might hit close to home: imagine a friend asks you to lend them money for the third time this month. You know they haven’t managed their finances responsibly, and helping again could hurt you. Saying yes may feel “nice,” but it may not be kind—to yourself or to your friend, who might learn to manage better if you refuse. Kindness sometimes demands discomfort, and sometimes it requires defying social niceties to uphold a deeper ethical principle.
We encounter small catch-22s like this daily. I remember once agreeing to host a potluck dinner for my entire extended family—even though I had barely slept the night before. My living room became a scene from a culinary disaster show, and I spent the evening apologising for burnt snacks and spilling drinks. My relatives were pleased. I was not. Niceness won. Kindness? Debatable. Sometimes, the hardest part of being kind is realising that you can’t please everyone without sacrificing your own well-being.
Being kind to yourself is also essential for modelling kindness to others. I’ve noticed that when I set boundaries—declining an invitation I cannot honour, refusing a last-minute request at work—I feel lighter, calmer, and more capable of being genuinely generous in other areas. Self-kindness is not selfish; it is foundational. By protecting our energy, we preserve the capacity to act with integrity, patience, and thoughtfulness.
The paradox is that kindness can sometimes appear confrontational. Speaking up for someone, correcting injustice, or refusing to enable harmful behaviour may upset others. Yet these actions, though seemingly “not nice,” are profoundly kind. They protect, support, and elevate others in ways superficial niceness cannot.
Southeast Asia’s cultural backdrop makes this even more critical. Here, the tendency to equate kindness with niceness can create unspoken pressures: overcommitment, guilt, and suppressed emotions. The challenge is to teach that kindness is flexible, principled, and contextual—not automatic compliance. Stories, studies, and campaigns converge on one point: kindness is not about being liked. It is about being intentional, empathetic, and ethically courageous.
So this Kindness Week, let’s embrace the full spectrum of kindness. Smile, help, support—but also protect your energy, speak up for justice, and say no when necessary. Be kind to others, but also be kind to yourself. True kindness is measured not by how agreeable you are, but by the integrity, empathy, and courage behind your actions.
In the end, the stories, research, and campaigns converge on one truth: being nice is easy. Being kind is an art. And in the intricate dance of Southeast Asian society, where cultural norms often equate kindness with niceness, mastering that art is more important than ever.
Kindness isn’t about avoiding discomfort. It’s about embracing humanity. Sometimes gentle. Sometimes firm. Sometimes quiet. Sometimes loud. But always, always real.
Written by: Adi Jamaludin
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