When My Words Come Back to Me—Uncredited
On Intellectual Theft, Nice Guys, and the Erasure of BIPOC Feminist Thought
In 2017, I wrote an article called “Nice Guys Aren’t Good Guys” for Elephant Journal. At the time, I was naming a dynamic I had seen far too often as a psychologist and woman of color navigating relationships: men who weaponize kindness, who seek validation for their decency, who want to be rewarded for not being cruel. I wanted to draw a sharp distinction between those men and the ones who lead with integrity, emotional responsibility, and genuine care.
The piece went viral. It resonated with readers around the world, many of whom told me it finally gave language to something they had felt but couldn’t articulate.
Recently, someone sent me a Medium article titled “Distinguishing the Key Differences Between Nice Guys and Genuinely Good Men” by another author. As I read it, I experienced a familiar kind of disorientation. The structure, the language, the cadence—it felt like reading my own work, slightly rearranged and stripped of my name.
As I read the piece, I noticed it didn’t just echo general themes—it mirrored the structure and key arguments I made in my original article. The Medium piece describes Nice Guys as validation-seeking, transactional, emotionally repressed, and manipulative in their displays of kindness—all language and concepts directly aligned with my 2017 article. For example, where I wrote that “Nice guys do things for approval,” the newer article says they “crave validation.” Where I wrote that “Nice guys expect something in return,” the newer version reframes this as believing their niceness “entitles them to something.” I described how Nice Guys “hide their anger and think that makes them better men,” while the newer piece claims they “repress their emotions” and leak them out in passive-aggressive ways. Both pieces contrast this with Good Men—men who act from core values, respect boundaries, and don’t need external validation. I wrote that “a good man respects a woman’s no,” while the newer article says “a good man honors consent.” My phrasing was “Nice guys are performing. Good men are being.” The newer piece? “Nice guys perform kindness. Good men live it.”
These are not just overlapping ideas—they follow the same argument, the same rhythm, and use nearly interchangeable phrasing to make the exact same distinctions.
This is not a case of shared cultural insight. This is framework-level mirroring, dressed in new words but carrying the same skeleton and soul—without attribution.
When we talk about liberation psychology, decolonized ethics, and intellectual justice—as we do at Liberation U—this is exactly the kind of harm we mean to confront.
Because this isn’t just about “copying.” This is about the erasure of the labor of people of the global majority. This is such a clear example of how the ideas and innovations of women of color are routinely mined, recycled, and rebranded in safer packaging—stripped of the politics and the pain that birthed them.
It’s easy to say we’re inspired. But crediting inspiration is a liberatory act. Failing to do so reinforces the very systems of extraction that so many of us claim to resist.
Let me be clear: I’m not suggesting the author acted with malicious intent. But intent isn’t the point. Impact is.
When we consume work created by POGM thinkers and fail to name our influences, we replicate colonizer logic: take what’s useful, discard the rest, and deny the lineage.
In academic spaces, in activist communities, and especially in social justice writing—we know better. And when we know better, we do better.
If you’re a writer, creator, or educator who finds yourself echoing someone else’s framework, cite your source. Even if your words are original, if your ideas are scaffolded on someone else’s labor, credit that.
If you’ve made this mistake, fix it. Acknowledge the work. Update your post. Name the thinkers you’ve drawn from. That is what it means to be in right relationship with the work and with the communities that hold it.
My work will keep being out there. And I’ll keep speaking from a love ethic rooted in truth and relational integrity. But if we’re serious about liberation, then honoring intellectual lineage—especially from BIPOC women—isn’t optional. It’s the baseline.
Because liberation isn’t just about what we say.
It’s about how we show up when no one is watching—and who we’re willing to name when we do.