“What does ‘being good’ mean to you, and where did that definition come from?”
That question caught me off guard. Not because I don’t have an answer, but because I have so many. And because, for me, that question reaches deep into a tangled web of childhood memories, cultural messages, and spiritual confusion.
My earliest ideas of what it meant to be “good” were planted by my parents. Like many of us, I was raised with the understanding that good behavior was not just encouraged, it was expected. Being “good” meant being quiet, obedient, helpful, kind, and above all, not causing trouble. Any deviation from this standard came with disapproval, correction, or even punishment. “Good” was what made me lovable. “Bad” meant I had somehow failed.
Then came church. And not just one tradition, but two. One parent was Catholic. The other, Pentecostal Christian. If you know anything about either tradition, you might already be sensing the whiplash. The quiet, structured reverence of the Catholic Mass clashed with the emotionally charged, often fear based messages of Pentecostal services. In both spaces, though in different ways, I was taught that I was born with sin. That my thoughts could condemn me. That being "good" wasn't just about behavior. It was about purity, obedience to doctrine, and a very specific kind of femininity that left no room for exploration or doubt.
Layered on top of this spiritual confusion was childhood trauma, experiences that broke trust, reshaped my nervous system, and left me questioning if I was ever truly “good” enough to be loved unconditionally. I carried that confusion into adulthood, into my relationships, and into the way I saw myself as a submissive.
In the world of kink, especially as a submissive, the words “good girl” carry powerful meaning. They can be affirming, nurturing, even erotic. For me personally, being called a “good girl” by my Masters is not triggering. In fact, it brings me comfort. I like knowing that they are proud of me, that I’ve pleased them, that I’ve honored my service with care and intention. I try incredibly hard to be obedient and attentive. The praise reinforces the connection we share, it feels earned, not demanded.
But I also understand why those words can be incredibly painful for others. For someone still healing from religious trauma or emotionally abusive dynamics, the binary of “good” and “bad” can feel like a trap. It can bring back memories of shame, fear, or unworthiness. And that’s why, in power exchange relationships or any relationship rooted in deep vulnerability, self awareness is so important.
I don’t believe in a rigid divide between good and bad, or good and evil. I think all of us are capable of both at the same time. Life is far more nuanced than the moral absolutes we were taught as children. What matters more than being “good” by someone else’s standards is being true, to your own values, your integrity, your healing.
One of the ways I protect myself now is by being very intentional with language. I keep a list of words and phrases that are hard limits for me. Not because I want to control every interaction, but because I want to protect the progress I’ve made. Words matter. They carry history. And being proactive about what language feels safe, or not safe, for me is a form of self respect and communication I take seriously.
So when someone asks me, “What does being good mean to you?” my answer is this. Being good used to mean pleasing others at any cost. Now, being good means honoring who I am, being accountable in my relationships, and doing the hard work of healing, without sacrificing my truth just to fit into someone else's definition.
And that? That feels pretty damn good.