I'm a nice girl. I'm a sarcastic, stubborn girl who cancels plans at the last minute, but ultimately I am a nice girl. I have good manners, I've helped little old ladies across the street, I volunteer places. I have yearbooks telling me repeatedly to "stay nice." At 14, my yearbook full of nice was disconcerting, but not my main issue. It's the fact that I'd always been too nice. Can you really be too nice? In my case yes.
I could stand up for other people. I could give passionate rants about injustice. But for a long time I couldn't work up the nerve to tell waitresses that they'd messed up my order. In elementary school I allowed a teacher to say my name wrong for weeks. I apologized to people for bumping into me. I let people talk over me, even worse walk all over me.
People I loved spent years telling me to speak up, to stand up for myself. Like it was that easy. But when I wasn't letting myself be steamrolled, I had stories. I worshiped at the altar of heroines like Hermione Granger, Buffy Summers, Wonder Woman, Abbie Mills and Emma Swan. They were tough. There were strong. People listened to them. They made it look so easy. I wondered if I could ever be any of those things, I often felt like no one could hear me.
College helped considerably. Away from the cruel culture that was high school I felt more confident. I'd finally started learning how to set clearer boundaries. But there were still times when I didn't feel heard. Recently I'd had trouble getting something I'd been promised from my school. For two months I'd been waiting. I'd been polite, I said please, I'd been blown off. As I checked my email for what felt like the billionth time and I was still being ignored. And I was feeling frustrated, so I did what I often did when upset: got lost in a good story.
I'd fallen back in love with "Grey's Anatomy," so I decided Netflixing a few seasons "Grey's Anatomy" was just what I needed. In between the McDreamy, McSteamy and the McDeath something stood out to me: Miranda Bailey, Ph.D.
She was the "Nazi" to her interns. She was no nonsense. She commanded respect. She got things done even when people underestimated her. Most of the women Shonda Rhimes writes had these characteristics, but as it turned out before Miranda Bailey was badass she was a lot like me. Quiet. Talked-over. Brushed off. Too nice.
Bailey isn't afraid to tell a person off when necessary, but she is also a deeply kind and caring person. She's the voice of reason in the insanity. She's the reason half the doctors didn't quit. She reminds the people around her of what is important. She would never accept being ignored.
Mid-way through watching the current season this scene happened:
Like a lightbulb I got it. In a perfect world people would do their jobs in a timely fashion. Saying please would work. In reality and in the line of work I plan on going into, silence isn't an option. You are what you allow. Sometimes you have to ask forcefully and if you fight for what you deserve you won't get it. It took a fictional character, to remind that I had to fight for myself and not feel bad about it.
P.S: A few very Bailey emails later I got my school to follow through.
