Kindness is a Necessity
In conversation with Kel Meyers
“Kindness is more than a nicety. It’s a necessity, a radical act of rebellion and a revival we all desperately need.”
These words from Kel Myers have been echoing in my mind since our conversation.
A few months ago, I received a message from Kel, the host of Phoenix Sound. We’d connected initially around endometriosis, but our exchanges quickly evolved into something deeper—thoughtful messages about pain, creativity, disconnection, and hope. It wasn’t the usual superficial online interaction; it was two people genuinely curious about each other’s perspectives.
When Kel invited me to be a guest on her podcast, it wasn’t transactional—not about subscriber counts or download numbers. It was a genuine desire to explore a shared thread: how kindness—radical, deliberate, everyday kindness—can disrupt loneliness and restore dignity in a world that so often overlooks.
At first, I wasn’t sure if I belonged in the conversation. Kel’s podcast explores science, ethics, chronic pain, technology. But the more we spoke, the more I realized: what I do—the practice of noticing, of creating small tokens of appreciation, of reaching out to those pushed to the margins—isn’t solely about art. It’s about humanity.
Art is just one conduit. The real work is seeing each other. Naming each other. Saying, “I see you. You matter.”
When my husband needed unexpected surgery, Kel immediately offered to reschedule our recording. This wasn’t just professional courtesy; it was the same spirit of kindness we were planning to discuss—showing up for each other as humans first.
When our conversation finally happened, it felt like two people, halfway across the world, holding a shared thread and following where it led. Kel came prepared with thoughtful questions and notes, but she let the conversation unfold organically.
I wanted to share a few moments that stayed with me:
The mammogram story. I told Kel about the mammogram technician who, five years ago, received one of my tokens—and how she still keeps it in her wallet. Every time a patient leaves with a complaint, she takes it out and reminds herself: I matter. What I do matters.
Kindness as rebellion. Kel framed kindness not as a nicety, but as “a radical act of rebellion in a world that commodifies cruelty.” That language struck me deeply. Kindness, she reminded me, isn’t soft. It’s disruptive. It demands we pause, notice, connect.
Leaving social media—and realizing no one noticed. When I deleted Instagram and Facebook to be more present with my family, I expected a few people to reach out. Out of 10,000+ followers, only two did. That moment reoriented me. It deepened my commitment to slower, more intentional ways of having a digital presence—offering connection that feels human, not transactional.
Returning to our unconstrained selves. At the end of our conversation, Kel asked what advice I’d give to someone struggling to feel seen. I told her: “Return to noticing and don’t let doubt creep in. Go back inwards… channel that three-year-old within me… because my three-year-old version wasn’t constrained by anything.”
That version of ourselves—the one willing to notice, to play, to be fully present—still lives inside us.
Kel titled the episode “Rebuilding Human Connection through Radical Kindness.” It’s humbling to see my work reflected in those words. It’s a reminder that kindness belongs in every conversation about healing, justice, ethics, and care.
If you’re curious, you can listen to our conversation here:
You can also explore Kel’s other thoughtful work here.
Whether or not you listen, I hope this offers you a small pause. A reminder that kindness isn’t limited to artists or activists. It doesn’t require a canvas or a stage.
It starts wherever we are—at the grocery checkout, in a waiting room, across a kitchen table.
Is there a small act of kindness you’ve experienced that still stays with you? I’d love to hear your story if you’d like to share.
Thank you Mansi for reminding me how transformative art and kindness can be in healing ourselves and humanity. I appreciate your time and energy and this post which is so lovely to read. I'm humbled. May we all feel loved and seen.
A neighbor down our rural road has a sign outside that says, "Kindness matters." She's right, it does matter.
Mansi, you are the living embodiment of that phrase.
I try to be sans the artwork.
I had a recent eye appointment and made sure the technician working with me knew I appreciated her responsiveness to my light sensitivity. We both left the room feeling good.
Thank you for your our daily splashes of color and beauty.
I'll go check out Kel Myers' podcast.