I began my journey of saying “yes” as a child. It’s something nice girls often do, after all. I said yes in the classroom, while crammed in the back seat of the school bus with papers swirling around me. I said yes at friends’ houses during sleepovers, snuggled in my Care Bears sleeping bag. I even said yes to awkward boys, teachers with questionable fashion choices, and yes to the kind cashier who always knew my name. Heck, I even said yes to a nun in the church basement.
It was during middle school—or even earlier—that this became a constant in my life. On the surface, I might not have seemed like a “yes-girl.” I was just a girl with a wild blond afro, sporting red tights and an acid-washed jean skirt. I had my band friends and I smiled often, raising my hand to share answers I knew. I might not have been a stellar student, but I loved making people laugh. I was just… nice.
Yet beneath that nice exterior, I was hiding something darker that still lingers today: I struggled—and still struggle—to say no. It’s not that I can’t utter the word “no.” I can articulate it just fine. I can casually toss it into conversation: “No way, you’re kidding about the half-off sale at the thrift store!” I can cry it into my pillow: “No, no, no! Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I can even scream it at my reflection when I’m home alone: “NO! I SAID NO!”
But when you ask me to watch your pet parakeet with a penchant for swearing while you go off hiking in Mozambique for four months? I’ll, without fail, say yes. If Mr. Peepers only dines on homemade organic mango leather and requires me to drive three hours weekly to procure it, I’ll say yes. If I need to chew the mango into bite-sized pieces so he doesn’t choke, guess what? Yes.
If saying yes is a disease, I’ve got a terminal case, and despite technological advancements, there seems to be no cure. It’s a lifelong affliction that has me volunteering to drive the carpool, leading the Tiger Scouts, and being the last one to the cake table. I often wonder how much of this compulsion stems from societal pressures on women of my generation. Growing up, we were told we could do it all—a family, a career, love, and everything in between. But with all those opportunities came unrelenting expectations.
As little girls, we were told we could be anything, even the President. Our parents beamed with pride when we expressed such ambitions. But they also quietly expected us to fulfill traditional roles—like getting married and having children. Deep down, we knew they wanted us to say yes.
We quickly learn that nice girls say “yes.” Even if our first word is “no,” we soon realize that yes brings joy, yes means cookies, and yes means love. Yes means we don’t disappoint anyone.
I have no remedy for my tendency to say yes, but I hold hope for the future. I’m raising my daughter to understand that it’s perfectly alright to say no. This often leads to conflict, especially when she says no to me, but it’s crucial. I refuse to let her inherit my burden.
How many women in their late twenties are hiding this same struggle? How many are saying yes to leading book fairs or enduring a bad hairstyle just because they feel obligated? How many are hand-feeding chewed mango to a parakeet, simply because they never learned that saying no wouldn’t change their worth?
The nice girl can say no.
For more insights on navigating motherhood and self-empowerment, check out this post about home insemination kits, or explore this resource for pregnancy guidance.
In summary, saying yes is a habit ingrained in many of us from childhood, often leading to overwhelming obligations and stress. However, teaching the next generation that it’s okay to say no can foster healthier boundaries and self-empowerment.
Keyphrase: The struggle of saying no
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