The Weight of a Malicious Truth
By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar
Do you ever notice how people can twist something so simple and pure into something just plain ugly? Like, it’s one thing to lie lying’s pretty straightforward, right? We all know it's wrong, no gray area there. But telling the truth with bad intentions? Oh, that’s an art form some folks have mastered. It’s like a subtle dance, except instead of moving gracefully, you're stomping on someone’s toes. And when you point it out, they shrug and say, “What? I’m just being honest!” That’s the kicker truth becomes a shield for people with less-than-pure intentions. We’ve all seen it, maybe even been on both sides of it. And let me tell you, it’s far worse than any lie you can conjure up.
It’s funny, though, because growing up, we’re taught honesty is the best policy. “Always tell the truth, no matter what,” they’d say. But no one ever taught us about how to tell the truth, did they? Nobody sat us down and said, “Listen, you can be truthful without being a jerk about it.” That’s a life lesson you learn the hard way; usually, after someone’s truth cuts you so deep, it leaves a scar. Then, if you’re lucky, you catch yourself mid-sentence one day, realizing, “Wait a second, am I about to do the same thing to someone else?”
I remember a time when I was caught in the middle of this. I had a nugget of truth about someone nothing too earth-shattering, but enough to make a dent if I said it out loud. And oh, how tempting it was! I could practically feel the power of it on the tip of my tongue. But then I paused. What good would it do? Would it help the situation, or was I just about to drop this truth like a grenade and walk away, leaving chaos in my wake? I sat there, weighing it, and I realized sometimes, it’s not just what you say, it’s how and why you say it.
We’ve all been there, though, haven’t we? That moment where we could drop some “truth” on someone. Maybe it’s at a family gathering that always gets messy or in the middle of a heated argument with a friend or partner. You’re locked and loaded with facts, waiting for the right moment to throw them out like darts. And when you finally say it, you feel that smug satisfaction for about two seconds, right up until you see the hurt spread across their face. Then it hits you: you didn’t say it to help; you said it to win.
There’s a story I think about often when it comes to this. Picture this: you’re sitting at a family dinner, everything seems fine, and then Uncle Joe pipes up, “Well, actually, I heard you’re not doing too great at work.” He’s got that look, you know, the one. He didn’t bring that up to offer advice or support. No, he’s relishing in it, waiting for the reaction. And there you are, trying not to let it show on your face, even though the truth just hit you like a cold slap. It’s not the truth that hurts it’s the fact that it was said to make you feel small, to put you in your place.
Truth like that is worse than any lie because lies are usually exposed for what they are eventually. But when someone tells the truth with the intent to harm, they can walk away feeling justified. “I didn’t lie,” they’ll say, completely missing the point that truth, when told with malice, is just as harmful, if not more.
I’ve been on the receiving end of this more than once. I remember a time when a so-called friend thought they were doing me a “favor” by telling me the brutal truth about a mistake I’d made. And yeah, it was the truth I couldn’t argue that. But the way they said it? Oof. It wasn’t to help me learn from it or to offer support; it was to make sure I knew they had the upper hand. You could almost feel the satisfaction dripping off their words like they were finally getting their moment in the spotlight.
It’s in moments like those that you realize truth isn’t just about facts. It’s about intention, about delivery, about whether your goal is to lift someone or tear them down. The truth can be a tool for healing, but in the wrong hands, it’s a weapon. And let’s be honest no one likes a truth told with a smirk.
I think about the times I’ve been tempted to wield the truth like a sword. It’s easy to do, especially when you’re angry, hurt, or just fed up. There’s a power in holding the truth, knowing you can change the course of a conversation or a relationship with just a few words. But what we often forget is that the wounds caused by a truth spoken with bad intentions can take far longer to heal than any lie. Lies can be corrected, but the sting of truth told in spite? That sticks.
Have you ever heard the saying, “You can be right, or you can be kind?” Man, that hits hard when you’re sitting on some truth that’s begging to be told. Sure, you might be right. You might have all the facts on your side. But if you’re not careful, you can still be wrong in the way you go about it. I’ve found that choosing kindness over the need to be right has saved me from a lot of unnecessary hurt, both for me and for others.
And here’s the thing when we choose to use truth for harm, it doesn’t just affect the person we’re targeting. It affects us, too. There’s something that happens to your spirit when you start using truth like that. It hardens. You get used to the feeling of being right, of having that power over someone else, and before you know it, you’re the one causing the damage. The Creator didn’t give us truth so we could use it as a club to beat each other down. Truth is meant to set us free, not chain us to bitterness.
So, what do we do with this? It’s simple though not always easy. Before we speak, especially when we know we’re holding something truthful that could hurt someone, we have to check our intentions. Am I saying this to help, to heal, to bring clarity? Or am I saying this to put someone in their place, to make myself feel bigger by making them feel smaller?
The next time you find yourself about to drop a truth bomb, take a beat. Ask yourself, “What’s my goal here?” If it’s not coming from a place of love, maybe keep it to yourself. Because the truth, when told with bad intentions, is worse than any lie you could tell. It sticks, it stings, and it lingers in ways a lie never could.
We’re all just trying to navigate this life, figuring out how to be honest without being hurtful, how to be truthful without being cruel. And sometimes, we stumble. But if we can remember that truth isn’t just about being right, that it’s about lifting each other, maybe we can avoid causing unnecessary pain. At the end of the day, it’s not just what we say it’s how and why we say it.
So let’s handle the truth with care. Let’s use it as a balm, not a weapon. Because when we choose kindness over cruelty, even in our honesty, we bring ourselves closer to the divine. We become not just truth-tellers, but truth-healers. And that, my friends, is the real power of honesty.
Keep going!!!