The infantilization of kind people

and other modes of survival in adulthood

I’m in constant awe and observation of kind people wherever I find myself and I might’ve found the language and courage to finally know why. Kind people, much like the unfailing positive or ones who smile too often, are expected to grow out of it, I believe. It is never the societal suggestion that kindness is to be completely absent, just compressed. Although, if it were to be absent, it might be more conceivable than the idea of being a full-blown adult whose default is unhinged kindness. The alternative default may be resting bitch face. Even your ‘never smile back at strangers’ face may be better received; it may confuse others if in a world such as this one, you chose, on purpose, to be the softest in the room. Being kind is beautiful, we might agree, ‘but it is not always wise’ is what we might not say out loud. How silently we have to navigate this. I imagine it is, sometimes, childish to be seen being kind while operating in certain spaces in society, even while we do it anyway. 

I often think about something a manager said to me while working in a bakery the summer before heading to University. “I used to be like you”, she said, arms crossed looking out at the high street shoppers paying us no mind. “Too kind” she continued. I think this conversation came after a man came in and picked up a sandwich (and a coke, cold from the back of the fridge) and walked out without paying or glancing in the direction of the till. To my 18-year-old mind, my shift was ending, the fridge was positioned too close to the exit for anyone to be deterred from theft and I wasn’t prepared to intersect this man’s evening agenda. My reaction was less kindness, and more carefreeness. I also didn’t want to tell her that he absolutely does this regularly when she is not here, he was even a little late that day.

He may have needed it, maybe not, but I wasn’t going to wrestle him to the floor for food that he knows we throw away if we don’t sell anyway. To my manager Allison¹, this was evidence of what I have been told over again ever since, that I was perpetually too kind. 

To be clear, Allison was not ashamed of shedding kindness. She was only a few years older than me, and I suppose my '“kind girl” energy prevented her from unleashing the entirety of her “0 fucks given” reputation onto me. Whenever she had a day off, myself and the others would be bent over laughing, tears sometimes, trying not to knock over the sticky treats we were boxing, swapping stories of some of the things she had said to other employees, line managers, and customers. We’d have to pause stories when customers came in, giggling slightly to ourselves and rushing to complete the sale to go back to the story. 

This type of working-class camaraderie was one of my favourite things about my early days of retail/shop floor work. It was a safe space for laughing at the inhuman mess of management. It was where we established what actual humanity looked like, and what version capitalism had asked us to accept for the sake of our shift and our pockets. There is really nothing like bonding over the thing that sustains you but heightens your desire to never work for anyone again. Stories of Allison’s no-nonsense management style broke the ice for sharing more of ourselves probably, and it made the time go by faster. Soon it was mid-September, air crisp with newness and so time for me to trade hair nets and fresh bread for early morning lectures in another city. As I said goodbye to Allison and the others, I wondered if my kindness would follow me into this new chapter, or if it would naturally stagnate in my youth.

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In many ways beyond my control, I haven’t aged. I come from a long line of women who present as years younger than they are, I wear colourful clothes instead of all black, my big eyes create a baby face effect in some light and I don’t drink or have night owl tendencies that accelerate aging skin or whatever they say. I am also running around the world with no children or husband so often, it is assumed that I am younger than I am. Taxi drivers, new friends, strangers befriended on buses rarely guess my age, rarely guess above it.

I have a deeper knowing that I am mistaken for someone younger than I am because of how I (unspoken, energetically, or sometimes in my gestures) present as too soft, too kind to be the age I actually am. I find this interesting as I am always the friend with the advice, the first-born daughter, granddaughter, niece to everyone, as well as someone who has several intergenerational bonds in true old soul fashion. Even still, people ask twice to confirm that I am how old I’ve said that I am², eyes widening, in unexaggerated disbelief of their miscalculation.

I think these instances, while sometimes wild, are innocent. I think they’re innocent and I don’t feel they’re worth overthinking. I’m mostly interested in what it means to be met with full resistance as you, a person who chooses to be kind when it is obviously foreign to the space, are made to feel too young for your environment, your age, your status. What does it mean to be unwilling to cage the joy on your face at the risk of being seen as foolish? Where, beyond the ocean, can kindness be left unbound and tossed back and forth without attracting opportunistic individuals? Being infantilized is the cost of bearing kindness when your surroundings are not primed for it. 

Tayyibah Chase, LMFT, Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist, says that infantilization in general is “a means of gaining or maintaining power or control over another person or group. If you paint someone as being younger than they are, you can maintain a "power over" position in a relationship.” Chase goes on to explain that this may be present in family structures, to prevent the child or another family member from actualizing their power. It may also be present in friendships and relationships to maintain control. It is a tactic used to shrink what wants to expand and to control what is set to bloom, in this case, a heart. Or a natural inclination to be seen offering it at your own will. 

This reminds me of Allison and a confession she made to me in the bakery. She noticed, like I have, that the kindest people are immediately assumed to be incapable of proper management or thought to be push-overs, soft, and too forgiving to be trusted with power. This is what Allison was trying to tell me that summer. Being too nice, being seen to be willingly kind is not helpful, even if it is indigenous to our nature. She explained that she used to be kind like I was, but saw that people weren’t taking her seriously. “People don’t respect you when you’re kind. As soon as I figured this out, I stopped being Little Miss Nice,” Allison said, going deeper into her shift in personality without taking her eyes off the sandwich refrigerator. I don’t remember how I responded, but I think often about how I wanted to ask her the actual things she does to ‘switch off’ her kindness. Where did she hide the kindness? How does she rebrand into this version of Allison and how dd she say goodbye?

What I learned about kindness is that it is not truly profitable, it may cost you your dreams, career progression, or livelihood and the only appropriate rite of passage is to disown it.  “Psychologically [infantilization] involves making someone feel as though they have to rely on others for survival,” explains Chase, offering me the very word needed to make sense of it: survival. 

To survive is to erase softness, a word I think many people feel excluded from for this very reason. Survival is perhaps the example we were given with the name of ‘success’. It is (sometimes) betraying your nature to get ahead, or (often) surrendering in ways you wouldn’t if you felt the world would forgive you for it. It is not deeply interested in the kind, I would say. In asking kind people to suppress that side of themselves, to finally become the way everyone else has, to change the way they wish to lead or present, there is a desire to bring them into survival mode. This is how kindness gets called ‘childish’ and this is worth every resistance in the world. 

“On a larger social scale, infantilization of groups of people, cultures, behaviors, or physical features can operate in a similar fashion. Categorizing a group of people or behaviors as "childlike" or "young" can be a means of isolation or disempowerment in order to maintain the power of one social group over another, whether it be based on race, gender, class, appearance, ability etc,” says Chase. The disempowerment of a people is harmful in ways you already understand, it is what erases cultural identities and pride in roots and history. To this, I think of how Caribbean culture is considered only to be ‘laid-back’ and the inhabitants considered ‘lazy’ or unwilling to work but always ready to party. This stereotype remains despite the fact that these are islands with heavy agricultural and herbal influence and ancestral knowledge, all which requires work and learning. To belittle these efforts is intentional, it’s to convince that these lands are less important and incapable of thriving alone without a mature and intelligent lead.³

Looking back into ideas of kindness, I see how Chase’s point resonates for those who chose to opt out of spaces and lifestyles that disempower kindness. The decision to leave the rat race proved to be a chance to return to myself, to not have to conceal kindness to keep climbing the corporate ladder. Working 9-5 in an office wasn’t aligned and didn’t allow me to show up the way I best can. I’m grateful that I didn’t stifle who I needed to become to keep up with a version of life I’d outgrown (that many quietly have). And how often was I, and others who choose like I do, made to feel like a child for not just putting up with it.

Choosing to align with a community of people who do dream of being kinder to themselves, and in turn others, has this same consequence. It is why people who care about the environment and dedicate their life learning about sustainable, planet-friendly lifestyles are presented as disconnected from the reality or ‘being unrealistic’. This is why activism is seen as something students will grow out of once they find themselves looking for employment. In fact, anyone who fights for a kinder life for all, for an alternatively softer way to consume, for a heart-centric approach to personal growth and correcting generational patterns, is infantilized and probably undermined in subtle or obvious language. 

I want to say that it is possible, considering how conditioned we are to devalue kindness, that the infantilization that kindness evokes may be thoughtless. We can extend grace in that direction. We can embolden and teach ourselves to notice that behaviour and stay kind anyway. Some will say that the world is full of too many traps for kind people. They may not like the rise and return of kindness (they may not know it, be kind while they relocate themselves). You can nurture your kindness and you can exercise it. When it is poorly translated and misunderstood, say “No, no this is not how it works. You will have to meet me here in this kindness, it goes like this”. We can also say, to those who do mean disrespect, that we remain this way because we mean to produce a new world. One that is inherently proud of kindness, and also, childlike-ness. To return to a version of kindness that rivals a child’s, is the highest honour. According to scripture, it is how to meet God⁴. 

I wrote this entire essay because I wanted to place this thought in your mind, that it is safe. It is safe to disempower the words that make you feel ashamed of your kind heart. It is now safe to keep a kind world with a kind nature in your dreams and in your walking meditations. It is safe to unlearn. It is safe. It is safe. It is safe to be seen trying to be kind, to be corrected and to say “thank you”, simply, when you are received by the kindness that lives freely in our world. 

Huge thanks to Tayyibah, owner of Muna Wellness, for offering commentary and expertise for this essay:: Tayyibah Chase, LMFT is a licensed marriage and family therapist specializing in perinatal mental health, anxiety & depression, body image, self-esteem, and relationships. With years of experience in community mental health, she blends expressive arts therapy, mindfulness, and evidence-based practices to support her clients. As a working mama, artist, and advocate for maternal mental health, she is passionate about providing a safe and empowering space for individuals and families to thrive. Find out more about Muna Wellness on Instagram.

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Thank you, so much, for being here. I hope you enjoyed today’s essay, I wanted to get into it first and speak with you here afterwards. Today I have a waist bead-making class in an hour that I’m excited about. I’m going to publish this then get cute and walk (speedily, I’m lateee) there with sea breeze pushing me along, knowing that the words I wanted to say are already with you. Allowing myself the ease to not over edit, so allow for that too.

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I hope you have a beautiful Friday. Below I share some more writings that I hope you will enjoy.

An Origin Story: Food Poisoning In Mexico Turned Me Nomadic

The Friday unwind 006: A Final Pep Talk Before My Year Of Audacity

A story about quitting my job to write

Musings on Black nomadism (pt 1)

The Friday unwind 004: When there is nothing to become

Thank you, so much, for your presence and reading.

If you’re looking for writing prompts, I’ve curated a list of 28 journal prompts for entering a new season. I hope it deeply supports you.

Until the next letter.

Amara Amaryah.

1. name changed outta love and respect

2. It’s not a secret, I’m 28. idk why it feels fun and falsely mysterious because I was always going to share it here.

3. Insert conversations about ‘Commonwealth’…

4. Taken from Matthew 18:3-5. While my faith looks different these days, I’m grateful for my Christian upbringing for truths like these that return to me when I need help articulating.