Author: Jess Woolrich
Published: 24 July 2026
4min read
(A personal reflection)
A few years ago, while watching a video by Marshall Rosenberg, I noticed him say that using Nonviolent Communication (NVC) isn’t the same as being nice. Since then, that sentence—and its meaning—has been quietly percolating in my mind. I realised there was more to explore.
This is a personal reflection. It comes from my own experience and frame of reference, which may—or may not—resonate with you.
For context, I found NVC during the pandemic while at home with two young children (aged four and two). I was looking to expand my toolkit so that I could show up in the way I deeply wanted to as a parent.
Discovering NVC led me to understand my own needs, and perhaps this is where the exploration begins. Until then, I hadn’t explicitly understood needs, or how they fuel life itself. Suddenly there was a clear link between my unmet needs and how I was showing up and experiencing life. The missing puzzle piece was learning to make requests—of myself and others—to help meet those needs.
I gained an awareness of a language I could use, and since then I have tried to hold NVC in my mind and weave its consciousness into my life.
That brings me to another story I have carried since childhood: I must be nice to everyone. I must apologise if I am not nice. As I reflect on this, I notice that the word which comes to mind is nice, rather than kind. Yet, as an adult, I value kindness deeply, both in myself and in others. I think I grew up believing that niceness and kindness were interchangeable. I realise now that I value them very differently, while still carrying the belief that I need to be nice at all times.
I wanted to tease apart what nice and kind really meant—to others and to myself. I found this surprisingly difficult. Dictionary definitions often use kind as a synonym for nice, while many opinion pieces clearly favour kindness over niceness.
The question that kept returning was this: Why is it a problem for me that NVC isn’t the same as being nice?
I think it relates to the story I have told myself. NVC felt like an “aha!” moment that changed my world, and I also identified as being a nice person. So hearing Marshall’s words left me wondering: Am I not meant to be nice? And then, How am I meant to be?
The common thread running through the articles and opinions I read was that niceness can be superficial, driven by social expectations and, at times, inauthentic. Kindness, on the other hand, seemed to be rooted in connection and action, and closely linked with authenticity. It reminded me of the distinction between sympathy and empathy.
Come to think of it, I spend more and more time with people who might not be described as nice, but could certainly be described as kind. The two can exist independently, or they can be present in someone at the same time.
Looking back, I think I used niceness as a shield to protect myself—perhaps as a strategy to meet my needs for physical and emotional safety.
As NVC has become a more natural part of my life, I have noticed that my communication has become clearer and kinder, allowing me to share more honestly what is happening for me. The pull to “be nice” all the time has softened. I am beginning to notice the ways I fill space with niceness, and instead I am becoming curious about what happens when I simply leave space.
I recognise that being nice is not a central part of who I am, but rather a belief about how I should behave—one that continues to shift. I find myself drawn to people who may not be overtly nice, but who consistently express kindness through their actions.
I understand now why Marshall Rosenberg said that NVC is not the same as being nice. For me, NVC is an invitation to show up authentically—in connection with ourselves and with others.