A Guide to Making Everyone Comfortable Except Yourself

Ah, to be a palatable woman. To shrink your sentences and cushion your curiosity. To lace your voice with just the right amount of self-doubt so that no one feels threatened by your presence—or worse—your clarity.

From the time I could speak in complete sentences, I was told I was “a bit much.” Too direct. Too inquisitive. Too intimidating. I wasn’t throwing chairs or setting fires—I was just asking why. And apparently, asking adults why was the conversational equivalent of launching a nuclear warhead into the dining room.

My mother, a lifelong apologist for female assertiveness, offered the usual training course in Social Softening 101: “Be nice.” “Smile.” “Don’t make people feel bad.” “You’re making them uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable? Because I asked a question? Apparently yes. In the great emotional ecosystem of the 20th-century household, curiosity was violence, and honesty was arrogance in slacks.

Offense Is a Full-Time Job

The modern social contract has evolved, of course, but only in vocabulary. We’ve swapped out “be nice” for “read the room.” Instead of “don’t ask so many questions,” we now get “I just feel like your tone was really aggressive.”

Translation: Please shape-shift into something less...you.

Now, I love a good social dance as much as the next person, but the choreography has gotten absurd. You must anticipate not only what others are thinking but what they might feel if you dare to be yourself near them. The offense economy is booming.

You ask a question? You’re accusatory. You tell the truth? You’re harsh. You achieve something? You’re bragging. You show enthusiasm? You’re overwhelming. You say nothing? You’re aloof and probably judging everyone.

People no longer listen to what you say—they monitor how it makes them feel. And if their feelings are even lightly bruised? Congratulations! You are now emotionally responsible for a full-grown adult and must offer reparations in the form of apologies, self-censorship, and possibly a fruit basket.

Your Self-Confidence Is a Hate Crime

Let’s talk about the cardinal sin of today’s emotional landscape: being proud of yourself. If you say something vaguely positive about your life—especially without first performing a 10-minute interpretive dance of humility—you're “rubbing it in.”

“Oh, you just bought a house? Must be nice.” “You got promoted? Wow, I wish I had time for a career.” “You ran a marathon? I’ve been too depressed to leave bed.”

Your joy is now a hostile act. It’s considered bragging to acknowledge you’ve worked hard and earned something—unless you immediately follow it with “but honestly it was mostly luck, I’m still a mess, and I don’t even know why they picked me.”

God forbid you stand in your power for more than five seconds. You'll be accused of being "intimidating." Again.

Being Called "Intimidating": Let's Blame You for My Insecurity

Now, let’s clear something up: “intimidating” is rarely about you. It’s about someone else feeling insecure and outsourcing the blame. It’s the emotional version of “The Wi-Fi’s broken!” when what’s actually broken is your device.

I’ve been called intimidating for speaking with conviction, for having clear boundaries, and, once, for using a polysyllabic word in casual conversation.

Being “intimidating” is code for “You remind me of how much I envy you and want to do what you do, but I'm too afraid, and I’d like you to stop being so confident and make it seem so easy. That way I don't have to do anything about it.”

Soften Your Edges (Or At Least Pretend To)

To avoid being labeled difficult, we are coached to master the art of The Friendly Disclaimer™. This involves framing every direct statement with fluffy cushioning:

“Sorry, I just have a quick question…”

“This may sound stupid but…”

“I could be wrong, but I was just wondering if maybe…”

“This is probably nothing, and you can totally ignore me, but…”

It’s not enough to speak. You must audition for the role of a Likeable Person™ while doing it. Bonus points if you can manage this while emotionally babysitting a grown man who’s somehow threatened by the fact that you read a book once.

Emotional Accommodations, Now Available 24/7

Look, I get it. Empathy is great. Considering other people’s feelings is great. But the minute someone declares, “Your confidence makes me feel insecure,” I am legally obligated to ask, “And whose problem is that?”

This is the real kicker: You’re allowed to feel anything you want. But when you start expecting me to change who I am because of how you feel about it, we’ve entered emotional blackmail territory.

Yes, your feelings are valid. But so is my right to not become an emotional contortionist just to keep you comfortable.

If You Feel Triggered, That’s My Cue to Vanish

In our culture of “my truth,” we’ve somehow decided that emotional perception is the only truth. If someone feels attacked, it must be because they were attacked.

So, if I ask a clarifying question and you interpret that as interrogation, I am now guilty of conducting a psychic assault and must report to the Ministry of Misinterpreted Intentions for questioning.

If I say something you envy, I should downplay my achievement for your sake. If I point out a contradiction, I should know better than to question your narrative.

God forbid I use logic. I get accused of being unfeeling, or I think I’m so smart. That’s disguised hostility, not speaking one's truth.

What If We All Grew Up a Little?

Here’s a thought experiment: what if, instead of bending ourselves into guilt pretzels to manage everyone else’s fragile egos, we encouraged people to... I don’t know… cope?

What if your discomfort with my honesty was a sign that you have something to reflect on—not that I have something to apologize for?

What if we stopped treating emotional discomfort like a catastrophic breach of the social contract, and started treating it like what it is: a normal part of adult interaction?

Sorry Not Sorry

So here’s my final offering, wrapped in dry wit and sincere exasperation: I will not shrink because you haven’t expanded. I will not apologize for being whole just because you’re still deciding whether you want to grow into your potential.

If I intimidate you, perhaps ask why you’re intimidated by a woman who knows her own thoughts.

If I make you feel insecure, perhaps locate the part of you that handed me that power in the first place.

And if my pride in my own accomplishments makes you uncomfortable? Don’t worry. I’ll still be proud. Quietly, loudly, with or without your permission.

Because your feelings matter—but they don’t get to decide who I am.