Terrible Person: A How-Not-To

“I don’t think Chris Brown is a terrible person. I don’t think anybody is a terrible person because they do a terrible thing.” — something a girlfriend said a couple of weeks ago that I thought was an incredibly interesting thought process to explore. My immediate reaction for some reason was to clarify if she felt the same about Diddy. She didn’t answer in the affirmative, but she also wouldn’t particularly elaborate on her opinion further in that moment. I did need answers though, because I would actually agree with the statement that just because someone did something terrible, it wouldn’t make them a terrible person. Yet, I do think some people are absolutely terrible, so what exactly is the qualifier for that?

Before we get started, for the record, Chris Brown is a reprehensible piece of shit. I would prefer for him to rot in jail. If you’re a Chris Brown defender, this is not a safe space for you; you might as well scram. As a self-proclaimed misandrist, you will never catch me defending a man, let alone an abuser.

I usually have an opinion on EVERYTHING, yet I couldn’t quite piece together what the recipe for a terrible person was because I have spent my whole life trying to achieve the antithesis. Doing the right thing has been the nucleus of my existence. Not sure if I was taught this at school or if it was baked into my DNA in the womb. Especially as someone who didn’t quite buy the whole “Islam is the greatest religion to ever exist” propaganda that was being shoved down my throat.

I will have to credit Lakehead Grammar for the incredible foundation it laid for the rest of my academic career.

However, we were also being waterboarded by what I now consider Islamic extremist views. This might not be everyone’s experience — and if you went to Lakehead and are reading this, I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS, please message me.

I thought it all was a bit much: the gender segregation with boys and girls on different floors, the burqas for uniform, the three additional types of Islamic curriculum we were taught. Everyone was bending over backwards to be “perceived” as a good Muslim. I was just confused as to why this was a competition.

Birthdays were haram, people at school pretended they absolutely didn’t know what a television was, oh and music was banned too. And yet every time I threw a birthday party (because I am not weird like that), everyone was there blasting music on the TV in my room.

I always felt judged, and an imposter in that environment. Just not good enough to be a Muslim because I wasn’t blindly conforming to the expectations, the same as everyone else. I found it difficult because at home I was given the freedom to do whatever I wanted. I would call my parents culturally Muslim — sure, they celebrated the holidays, prayed most days — but Islam didn’t factor into their daily lives, nor did it for the rest of my extended family beyond appearances if I am being frank.

I ended up at Lakehead out of sheer convenience; it was just simply a couple of roads down from me. Whilst for everyone else, their parents had specifically chosen it because it was a school with Islamic values — it was an extension of what they were already exposed to at home. I never felt like I belonged in that environment, and in hindsight it gravely tainted my relationship with religion and anyone I perceived as religious for a long time. I moved to the UK at the age of thirteen, but I would go on to battle my feelings about my faith well into university.

I made the conscious choice to have nothing to do with the Islamic Society at university because when I heard they had “separate events for brothers and sisters,” it felt like Lakehead 2.0 and I wanted absolutely no part in that.

I found it especially strange because all of these people would later end up at other society events to mingle with each other anyway. It was the right choice for me because I heard all about the drama afterwards. The same playbook of judgmental aunties-and-uncles-in-the-making, the same text in a different font. I don’t think I would have had much in common with them.

Whilst I didn’t particularly care about strangers judging me about my lifestyle choices, I just didn’t want to be friends with people whose first instincts were to be judgmental. I am aware not all Muslims are judgmental. There are normal ones who, despite having rather strong boundaries for themselves, do not impose that on others. However, I was (I realise whilst writing this) deeply traumatised by my exposure to Islam — not particularly because of the religion itself but everyone else who took it a bit too seriously.

I wouldn’t have been able to “we-are-going-to-Islam” my way into heaven. Am I even trying to go to heaven? I don’t actually know, but I digress. I’ve never cared to tick off a checklist of societal expectations gift-wrapped in religious doctrine to earn my salvation. Religion was never my reason for trying to be a good person because for over half of my life I have thought people who are religious were terrible. Dishonest. It never made sense to me. Lying to adults, faking conformity to avoid confrontations — it was all confusing because it wasn’t my reality.

My parents were never authoritative. As long as I was okay with the consequences of my actions, I could do whatever the ever-loving hell I wanted. I was afforded the privilege of being authentically myself — which, although should be a basic human right, is one people are still battling for to this day.

My mother also did an excellent job of making me acutely aware of my privileges growing up. It was drilled into my head that I had life be so much easier than so many of my peers that it was my responsibility to always be kind and helpful at all times. And she was right. I did have life a whole lot better, so I am rather grateful to have been taught empathy at a very young age.

And I think that might be it — my morals now that I think about it were really built on the desire to have integrity, be kind, and be useful to the best of my abilities. All of which I will argue is central to the teachings of most religions — at least definitely the Abrahamic ones.

Now I don’t know if these are truly the hallmark of a good person. I don’t know if I am a good person; I do try to be one. This is not me trying to seek validation into being told I am.

How does one even go about quantifying that? I don’t think you can. Morals are entirely subjective, and humans are deeply flawed and complex individuals. There is no instruction manual for life. Some might try to make a case for religious scripture, but we’ve already established how I feel about that.

When you’re navigating uncharted territory, it’s hard to know what the right thing to do is. Whether that’s standing up for yourself or backing down and apologising, knowing when to fight or when to walk away, whether to hold on for dear life or to let go with grace. How do you know what the right choice is? You don’t.

So, in your life, you will inevitably misspeak, trust the wrong person, underreact, overreact, hurt people who didn’t deserve it, overthink, not think at all, self-sabotage, create a reality where only your experience exists, ruin perfectly good moments for yourself and others, deny any wrongdoing, fail to take the steps to make it right, feel guilty, let that guilt eat away at you, hit rock bottom, finally address the pain you’ve caused, try to do better next time. Rinse, repeat.

And these mistakes will cost you. You will lose things — and sometimes the people you love.

But losing things doesn’t always mean you’re left with nothing. Often, when we lose things, we gain things too.

If that sounds like Taylor Swift’s NYU commencement speech to you, that is because it is. I would say it is the closest thing I have to an instruction manual for life. But it offers a rather individualistic perspective — a selfish one, perhaps — meant to keep you from crumbling under the weight of being human and making mistakes, even terrible ones that cause harm to yourself and others.

But at what point do the terrible things we do begin to taint our character? Where is the tipping point? Is trying to be a good person simply about actively avoiding being a terrible one?

What is it exactly that makes someone a terrible person? I don’t think anyone moves through the world believing they’re terrible, not even fictional villains like Lex Luthor or real-life ones like Elon Musk. But as my wise beyond his years teenage brother aptly surmised, “It doesn’t matter what they think of themselves. They are consistently contributing to the greater evil and the suffering of others, by choice, despite having every resource at their disposal that allows them to know better.”

People’s politics, I think, are an excellent indicator of their morals. Anyone who says politics doesn’t matter is either privileged enough to be afforded the luxury of not caring or is deflecting from their own terrible politics. If you continue voting for politicians who perpetuate racism, Islamophobia, xenophobia, homophobia, transphobia, cut welfare during a cost of living crisis, enable corporate greed, gut public services, deny climate change, promote anti-immigrant rhetoric after building a country on colonialism and turn a blind eye to or outright support a literal genocide, then yes, I do believe you are a terrible person.

Simultaneously, you can absolutely have what I would deem the “right politics” but still be absolutely terrible. I would know because I have dated and been friends with people in the past who were. But if I were to be completely honest, I also have been that person. Flaky, flighty, lacked communication and boundaries. I simply didn’t care and I made it a point to let that be known through my actions, whether intentionally or otherwise.

Whilst my politics is integral to who I am, it has very little to do with how I have navigated the day-to-day of my friendships and relationships. The former of which I discuss extensively on the internet, so you can go back and read about every time I have colossally screwed shit up. And the latter I won’t talk about because it is none of your business. The point is just because someone has the “right” politics doesn’t guarantee they will treat you right. Good politics doesn’t equate to a good person.

Interestingly, I have a friend who I would say shares my politics, date a single-issue Reform UK voter. The man just wanted more money for the military. He would have voted for any party that promised the largest defence budget, irrespective of its implication on literally anyone but himself.

When I asked her how she put his politics aside, she admitted to there being a lot of mental gymnastics trying to reconcile her feelings for him after she discovered what his politics were. Ultimately it was the fact that he treated her with respect, and she felt safe around him, whilst all her exes, even though they shared her politics, treated her like shit.

And I have never met this man, but I absolutely believe her when she says he is the nicest man she has ever dated and she really felt a connection with him. The situation didn’t last, and it taught her the very important lesson of discussing politics on the first date — something I preach all the time — and for that we say amen.

Since I don’t discuss boys here, I am going to take this opportunity to say my piece: a boy being nice to you isn’t enough. People are literally nice to strangers, please have standards. Do NOT listen to Sabrina, she wasn’t being literal.

People who vote more towards the right of the political spectrum are not all monsters or bigots, they could be perfectly nice people if I looked past the politics. Many of these voters are single-issue voters, otherwise apolitical. Their vacuity, however, I would argue is even worse and far more dangerous. It’s like starting a bonfire inside a barn and killing all the horses in the process. They don’t even realise the harm they’ve caused until it’s too late, or sometimes not at all.

Since the 2016 US election, I think we have regressed in our politics collectively, not just in America but globally, because of the reach and influence of American cultural export. It’s allowed people to be more open with their problematic views. There is absolutely a greater case to be made for education in politics and we should continue engaging in discourse, so our community is better informed.

You don’t really get to choose your grandparents or neighbours, so be tolerant and educate them. What I am not interested in, however, is inviting new people into my life whose political views are capable of compromising people’s human rights because of the leaders they choose to elect, for whatever their reasons might be.

Even if they claim to be just “apolitical” and “not really a bigot,” I know I will not be able to see eye to eye with them because I think they are actively making the world a worse place and I don’t condone that. I do not know what it is like to see something wrong and simply look away because it is “none of my business.” So no, I couldn’t look past the politics and it’s not a dynamic I am keen to explore.

This might be controversial, I don’t care it’s my internet, but I think anyone in the UK who votes towards “the right” are either misinformed and not fully educated on what they are voting for and the greater implications of their actions, they are just voting how they have continued to vote for decades or they vote how their parents have voted.

Or worse, where they do understand, and they don’t care because it doesn’t impact them. They are either not thinking for themselves or not thinking about others. Personally, I want nothing to do with either of those things. In the friends I choose to keep and especially the men I choose to date, I really appreciate people who exercise their critical thinking skills.

I am sure there’s gonna be someone reading this who’ll roll their eyes, saying it’s not as black and white as I have made it out to be. It’s not really that complicated, but we say that it is because we don’t want to feel like shit about making immoral choices. And I am not judging you for being human, I have made immoral choices before, not in this context, so you live your truth diva, you will figure it out eventually.

All of this to say, I am aware my perspective is distorted to adapt to my life experiences. I therefore wanted alternative opinions to weigh in on this.

Luckily for you I have really intelligent friends who have given me the permission to share their wisdom with the class. I asked a bunch of different friends what they thought made a person terrible. From various viewpoints, the one that succinctly encapsulated the crux of it was from one of the most well-brought-up people I have ever met, so instead of butchering it, I am going to lift his words exactly:

“I think a commonality between all ‘terrible’ people (by terrible I’m assuming they’re really mean, inconsiderate, just all the buzzwords for an awful person) is probably a lack of empathy. I guess what fundamentally connects people together is an understanding of how others feel, so when you’re unable (and maybe in some cases, incapable) to gauge and understand that, I guess you become more prone to displaying those ‘terrible’ traits. Also a P.S to that first part, I think you can be ‘terrible’ without even realising it. And the reason for a lack of empathy I think is heavily based on your upbringing; how much love you were shown (both from friends and family), how you were taught to treat others etc.”

I have nothing further to add to that, I wholeheartedly concur.

What bore resonance was a rather lengthy conversation — which I would post verbatim if there weren’t two simultaneous threads of fifty-plus paragraphs (as counted by iMessage) — centred on the intentions behind one’s actions and the challenges surrounding the ambiguity of what truly makes a bad person in Islam.

Coincidentally, this friend has had a similar journey with Islam as I did: being made to feel not good enough to be a Muslim. The irony of it all is that the Qur’an explicitly prohibits moral superiority:

“Do not ascribe purity to yourselves. He knows best who is righteous.” — Qur’an 53:32

It repeatedly makes the point that only Allah reserves the right to judge — because you don’t know what led people to make the choices they have, nor do you know that you wouldn’t make those same choices had you been in their shoes.

The idea of moral superiority, especially around purity culture, from someone who considers themselves a Muslim, is insane to me. Are you — as someone who claims to be a true follower of Muhammad (peace be upon him) — really going to sit there and tell me Allah has more of a problem with my miniskirt than He does with your homophobia? Don’t make me laugh.

Islam doesn’t really define what makes a terrible person, so you can technically do terrible things and still be forgiven for them, should you choose to repent. That is strictly between you and God. My friend made the case of intent being an important factor in that distinction between the two, and I would agree.

In all the conversations I had, shockingly feigns surprise no one mentioned politics, chalk that one up to my daddy issues. We inevitably stumbled upon agreeing on some variation of selfishness, inconsideration and lack of empathy being the holy trinity of terribleness.

It made me think back to the final ever conversation I had with an ex-best friend. I had told her I didn’t think she was a terrible person because she acted selfishly. But I did. In that moment I absolutely did believe she was a terrible person, but the words I chose to use in that conversation were “selfish” and “inconsiderate” instead. Because even in my moment of grief, despite the betrayal I felt, I was compelled to choose grace.

That was a person I loved, deeply, so I wasn’t going to inflict pain upon them when they were clearly already insecure. Yes, we can’t be responsible for the feelings of every single person in the world; but the internet, weaponised therapy speak and western individualism has somehow convinced us we don’t owe anyone anything, and that is untrue.

You absolutely owe it to your friends to show up, you absolutely owe it to your partners to celebrate them, you owe it to yourself to reciprocate the love you receive, in abundance. If you don’t think so, there is probably something wrong, some healing to be done — maybe look into that!

I saw a tweet recently labelled as an unpopular opinion that one should not be allowed to receive organs if they’re not listed to donate them and it was the dumbest shit ever. Imagine if everyone had an eye-for-an-eye mentality — humans would actually go extinct.

Your ability or willingness to do something should not be decided by someone else’s actions or what you get out of it. Free yourself from the clutches of transactional relationships please.

So how not to be a terrible person? I think by caring — about more than just yourself. Careful though, you don’t want to crumble under the pressure of everything that is wrong with the world that you can’t fix. Even if slightly masochistic, caring is a good start.

Being kind is another. Being kind means being kind to everyone, even when you think they might not deserve it, even when you know they will most definitely not reciprocate it. It is so hard. Sometimes I just want to be a troll because that’s funnier, and sometimes my impulses do get the better of me for the sake of the giggles. I am working on it. (Begrudgingly)

There will absolutely be times you want to lash out and make people hurt worse than what clawing into an open bullet wound feels like. How fucking dare they do the things they did knowing it would hurt you, without caring? But even though their actions weren’t in your control, yours are. That’s the one thing you have got. Walking away is punishment enough, you don’t need to go kicking and screaming. As good as that would feel in the moment, you would come to regret it later.

I dug far back into the archives, and yet I couldn’t really think of a name for the most terrible person I know. I don’t know if I feel comfortable to definitely say X, Y and Z makes one terrible. I would need to do so much more research than spamming my friends in the middle of the night. I am sure there is a list somewhere, somebody is trying to hide.

On that list of terrible people though, if it were up to me, I would include the categories for: dictators, abusers and billionaires. There is no ethical way of being any of those things and I find it weird when people defend them.

I am sure there is a more nuanced perspective there somewhere. If you do have one, please share it. To me personally, a terrible person is somebody I want nothing to do with in my life. Does that make them terrible to everybody? No. But nobody is owed a redemption. If you play stupid games, you will win stupid prizes. It’s literally my life, you don’t get to be here unless it’s on my terms.

It just means I have very high standards for myself and the people I choose to keep in my life. Sure, having strong boundaries means sometimes you lose the people you loved. But in case you didn’t know, because why would you, I am a Taylor Swift fan. I have to believe that love is never truly lost when perspective is earned.

If you have made it this far, congratulations — you definitely have a better attention span than I do. I am just really glad I finished this, because there are so many of these thought exercises that I open inside my notes app but don’t end up finishing because they get too personal. And I would never overshare on the internet like that.

If you would like to share your opinions with me though on this, please weigh in. I would love hear your thoughts.

Tell me if you find typos, or just write me back in case I have or haven’t heard from you in a while. I love you so much.

Also if you have seen Superman already please talk to me about me it, my friends are so tired of my David Corenswet propaganda. Ok bye. I probably see you in another six months.