My husband and I love Indian food. That’s why we regularly visit an Indian restaurant just around the corner from us. Not only because the food is wonderful, but also because of the people.
The two Indian owners and their waiter are incredibly warm-hearted people. Every time, their natural kindness touches me. It doesn’t feel forced, but effortless and genuine.
Their lives are surely not easy. They work hard while their wives and young children are still living in India. And yet, I can sense how much they love their restaurant, their work, and their guests.
I’m becoming increasingly aware of how important kindness is to me. I’ve always considered myself a very kind person. But today, I also see that my own kindness hasn’t always been entirely authentic.
Learned Kindness
There are many forms of kindness. Some come from the heart; others are simply learned. For example, from an early age, I was taught to put customer service first: “The customer is king.” The same applied to being nice to superiors: “Always be nice to your boss.” That’s how I was brought up, and that’s how I lived. I rarely noticed that, in doing so, I repeatedly neglected my own boundaries.
I once had a boss. Yes, he supported my career, but he also kept calling me on Sunday mornings about all sorts of trivial things. I answered, was friendly, and dealt with whatever he needed. Then I hung up and felt annoyed with him.
Later, when I was running my own tour company, I had clients who would call me on my mobile at all hours of the day and night – once even during my holiday, on my wedding night. I answered the call. The problem was something they could only resolve themselves, on the spot. I listened, hung up, and felt annoyed.
Looking back, I would handle these situations differently today. In those moments, my kindness wasn’t always an expression of goodwill. Often, it was simply learned behaviour: adapting to others. I wanted to keep my clients happy and avoid upsetting my superiors. In doing so, I put my own needs aside. Today, I try to set boundaries sooner. That saves me from the resentment that builds up afterwards and ultimately only harms me.
And now I see something else that feels very important: why should my boss or my clients change their behaviour if my accommodating kindness signalled that it was okay with me – perhaps even that I approved of it? Ultimately, my behaviour reinforced their disrespect.
Being Kind to Myself
I’ve come to believe that our ability to treat others kindly has a great deal to do with how we treat ourselves. When I feel at peace with myself, I find it easier to approach others with genuine goodwill.
We often speak to our friends with more understanding than we show ourselves. Yet self-compassion is an important foundation for genuine kindness. It means not responding to our own mistakes with immediate self-criticism, but treating ourselves with understanding and gentleness.
Genuine kindness also requires inner clarity. I can treat someone kindly without agreeing with their opinion. I can show understanding and still set a boundary. Someone who constantly says yes while meaning no may be kind to others, but not to themselves. Taking our own needs and boundaries seriously is, for me, essential to honest and respectful relationships.
Kindness Is Not the Same as Being Nice
Being nice can be a form of people-pleasing. We want to be liked, long for harmony, and don’t want to disappoint or upset anyone. So we smile, help, and agree – not necessarily because we genuinely want to, but because we hope to gain something from it.
Often, this happens entirely unconsciously. We think of ourselves as kind when, in reality, we may mainly want to please others, belong, or gain their approval. We avoid conflict because we’re afraid of rejection. But is that really authentic kindness?
For me, genuine kindness begins with self-awareness. The better I understand my own motives, the more freely I can choose how I want to treat others.
Sometimes I ask myself: Am I being kind right now – or do I simply want others to think I’m a good person? Of course, kindness can feel good to me, too. What matters is that I don’t use it to gain approval or manipulate others. Perhaps genuine kindness begins precisely when I no longer need to achieve anything by being kind.
Kindness Is Not Weakness
In a world that tends to reward competition and assertiveness, kindness is surprisingly often seen as a weakness.
I remember my time in marketing well. I wanted to advance my career and had a very tough female boss who, for reasons I couldn’t understand at the time, seemed determined to keep me down. At one point, she told me I didn’t have the personality for a leadership position.
Her words hurt me deeply and stayed with me for a long time. Could I be calm and kind – and still be successful? Back then, I doubted it. Today, I believe I can. More than that, it’s what I wish for. More people in leadership positions who consciously choose respect, goodwill, and collaboration over harshness and power.
How much potential might remain untapped because we compete with one another instead of creating something together? How many teams appear harmonious on the outside while undermining one another internally? How many friendships and relationships break down because we spend more time competing with each other than building each other up?
Some people try to demonstrate their strength; others try to please everyone. Instead of working together with honesty and goodwill, we are often far too busy playing our roles. I don’t believe we need more people who assert themselves at the expense of others. We need more people who use their strength to empower others.
Because true collaboration begins when we stop seeing one another as competitors and start seeing one another as opportunities to achieve more together, grow alongside each other, and inspire one another. And I believe all of this becomes easier when we treat each other with genuine kindness.
Kindness That Comes from the Heart
I love those little moments in life when I encounter genuine kindness. That wonderfully warm kind of kindness that is contagious, touches me deep inside, and can sometimes transform my entire day. I often wonder why some people seem to embody this kindness so naturally, while others don’t.
In her book Radikale Freundlichkeit (Radical Kindness), psychologist Nora Blum describes three key elements: benevolent tolerance, empathy, and active action. At its heart, this means approaching others with goodwill, putting ourselves in their shoes, and expressing that goodwill through our actions.
For me, authentic kindness in everyday life often begins with paying attention. Listening, putting the phone away, truly noticing another person. Small gestures that say: I see you. I take you seriously. Kindness doesn’t have to be spectacular to make a difference.
Honesty is also a form of kindness for me. When we openly express what’s going on inside us instead of swallowing our frustration, we give the other person a chance to truly understand us. We can disagree and still treat one another with respect.
Because where honesty and respect are missing, kindness quickly becomes a façade. Everything appears harmonious on the surface, while resentment, unspoken expectations, and mutual hurt build up underneath. Today, I see this kind of false harmony as anything but kind.
Perhaps this is exactly what touches me so much about the people at our Indian restaurant: their kindness doesn’t feel like an obligation. It isn’t forced or artificial. It’s simply there. In the way they speak to us, in their attentiveness, and in the joy with which they welcome us.
Once again, I’m reminded that genuine kindness doesn’t have to accomplish anything grand. Often, its authenticity lies precisely in its simplicity. Sometimes, all it takes is one person who makes us feel truly welcome.
LUMA – it begins in you.
Mini Exercise
Today, give someone your full attention. Really listen, treat them with respect, or honestly express something that matters to you.
Reflection Question
Am I as kind to myself as I am to others?