6 Polite Habits Women Do That Invite Disrespect

The most genuinely powerful people I’ve encountered were quietly kind. They weren’t trying to please everyone or easily pushed around. They were centered, direct, and could refuse without shame. Their kindness carried an inner strength. But if you grew up with trauma—especially the kind that left you feeling invisible, unchosen, and alone—your version of kindness can become distorted. You’re not trying to manipulate anyone, yet you give in the hope that it will make others like you. You want them to stay. You want their approval. You become helpful, accommodating, self-sacrificing. When it doesn’t work—when people ignore, use, or abandon you—it wounds you. Sometimes it even makes you angry. That is the difference between genuine kindness and trauma-driven kindness. One is a gift; the other is a mask, a brittle one at that. People can sense the difference even if they can’t put it into words. If you were hurt early in life, there’s a good chance you turned into the “good” one. Many of us did. You were the helpful child, the low-maintenance friend, the partner who seemed to want nothing—what some call the “cool girl.” You were told your needs were too much, your feelings inconvenient, your anger frightening or selfish. So instead of learning who you truly are, you built a survival persona: agreeable, pliable, always thinking about others. As an adult, that strategy backfires—you end up doing all the work in relationships, managing everything, smiling through exhaustion. You believe you’re being kind, but others read it as insecurity, and whether intentionally or not, they begin to disrespect you. I lived this in my first serious relationship. I adored my boyfriend, a musician; I lugged his gear from the van to the venue and back. I even shifted my college classes to learn things that would make me useful to him. He cheated repeatedly, and I knew it. Still, I acted like I was fine—convinced I was supposed to tolerate it, that I shouldn’t have expectations. Once, at a club, I went into the women’s restroom and heard a young woman sobbing because her long-term boyfriend had just left her. Then she said his name—my boyfriend. He was apparently seeing another woman while we lived together. In that moment, because he had broken up with her, I told myself I had somehow “won.” I was so desperate to keep him that I would tolerate anything, and he knew it. Predictably, someone else eventually “won” him away. Have you ever experienced something like that with a partner or a friend? The problem isn’t that you care about people; it’s that your caring is disconnected from reality. I wasn’t facing the truth. I had been cut off from what I really felt—hurt, jealousy, humiliation. Instead, I pretended. That disconnection lacks discernment. You need self-respect, limits, and clear boundaries. When you’ve been taught you aren’t allowed those things, fear fuses with your survival strategies—and people sense it. If you’re a soft, mushy wall who never stands up for yourself, others don’t need to respect or honor you, and relationships that persist will be with people who will take advantage of that. Even if they like you, they won’t trust you; they’ll feel you aren’t fully honest. It’s obvious when someone keeps accepting mistreatment—you’re not speaking your truth and you’re contorting yourself to be liked. Ironically, that sort of “niceness” makes true intimacy impossible. Early trauma can ripple into every part of how you relate now. If you want to check whether childhood PTSD might be limiting your ability to form healthy relationships, there’s a quiz you can download; the link will be in the top row of the description below this video if you want a copy. Here are eight kinds of “kindness” that may actually be pushing people away from you. Number one: you apologize for things that aren’t your fault. You rush to smooth things over, but that often reads as weakness. Let silence do some work. Let others sit with what they’ve done. You don’t have to step in and tidy everything up. Number two: you offer help before anyone asks, which can feel suffocating and like you’re seeking approval. Hold back until help is requested and spend some of that energy caring for yourself. Number three: you laugh off insults and rude jokes. If you chuckle to keep the peace when someone demeans you, you’re teaching them how to treat you. A simple, “That’s not funny,” is enough. Number four: you make excuses for bad behavior—“He’s had a rough day,” “She means well,” “They’ve been under a lot of stress.” You call it compassion, but you’re actually defending someone who’s hurting you. Stop doing that. Number five: you overexplain your feelings. If you need a ten-minute preface before you state discomfort, that’s not setting a boundary—it’s pleading. Keep it concise. Number six: you try to make yourself easy to love. That’s performance, not authenticity. People sense the gap between your act and your presence; they feel the resentment that builds when your unspoken feelings leak through. Their nervous systems pick up on it even when you try to hide it. This false kindness didn’t appear out of nowhere. It grew in the cracks where abandonment and loneliness lived. For many of us, it felt like the only way to keep people in our lives—because losing them felt unbearable. By the way, if you’re doing all this emotional labor to win love, it helps to know what truly prepares you to be a good partner. There’s a free PDF that outlines the inner qualities you don’t want to leave unhealed—traits that ready you for healthy relationships. I’ll place that link in the second row of the description below this video. When your feelings went unmet as a child, you learned to hide them. When your needs were ignored, you learned to disown them. If love only arrived when you were cheerful and agreeable, you learned to perform happiness to earn that love. That performance cost you real affection. No one else can fix this for you now. That very act—the pretending—is what keeps genuine connection just out of reach. You don’t need to be less kind; you need to be truer. Real kindness does not demand you lose your dignity. It doesn’t warp you or vanish when someone becomes upset. True kindness is firm and calm; it speaks the truth and protects what matters—including yourself. You don’t owe anyone your silence, your overfunctioning, or your erasure. Those who genuinely love you can only love who you really are. You might as well begin showing up honestly—starting now. When you clear away the counterfeit kindness that kept you small, you create room for authentic kindness—the kind that transforms everything. It doesn’t beg, hide, or try to earn affection. It arises from clarity, from truth, and from a sincere impulse to give. When that kindness moves through you, it commands respect and becomes, in its purest form, love itself. If you found this helpful, there’s another video you’ll probably enjoy right here. See you very soon. You didn’t get enough chances to make mistakes based on your own choices when you were young, and you’re paying that price now. That’s why making a satisfying decision can feel so difficult—nothing seems to fit.

Practical steps to move from trauma-driven “kindness” to authentic kindness:

Quick scripts you can use

When you’re about to apologize unnecessarily: “I’m noticing I’m saying sorry — it isn’t necessary here.”
If you want to offer help without overstepping: “Would you like some help with that, or would you prefer I wait?”
When someone makes a rude joke: “That doesn’t land for me. Please don’t joke about that.”
To stop excusing bad behavior: “I understand that was hard for them, but it doesn’t justify being treated that way.”
To state a boundary without overexplaining: “I’m uncomfortable with X. I need Y.”
When you catch yourself performing: “I’m not trying to be perfect for you. I want to be real with you.”

Short exercises to practice

Daily 1-minute check-in: name one feeling and one need aloud (e.g., “I feel tired. I need rest.”).
Micro-boundary experiment: for one week, say “no” once when you would usually say “yes.” Note how it feels and what happens.
Role-play with a trusted friend or therapist: practice a 30-second boundary statement and ask for feedback on tone and clarity.
Journal prompt: “What do I fear will happen if I express this need?” Then write one compassion-focused rebuttal to that fear.

Habits that rebuild self-respect

Reserve some of your energy for yourself first: protect 10–20% of your time each day for rest or something that fills you.
Limit rescuing behaviors: before you take action to fix someone’s problem, pause and ask, “Am I solving this for them, or for my peace of mind?”
Practice short, firm replies rather than long explanations—clarity builds credibility.
Use calming practices (breath, grounding, brief walks) when you feel the impulse to people-please—this helps you respond rather than react.

When to get professional help

If early trauma, chronic people-pleasing, or dissociation interferes with daily life or relationships, consider trauma-informed therapy. Helpful approaches include EMDR (for trauma processing), cognitive-behavioral therapies (for patterns and beliefs), schema therapy (for long-standing relationship patterns), and somatic therapies (to reconnect body and emotion). Group therapy or a support group can also teach boundary skills in a safe setting.