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When I was in high school, rarely was an insult worse than calling someone "fake."

"Gosh, I love your shoes," a girl might say, sitting next to you in chemistry, simultaneously giving you a side-eye that communicated much more convincingly that she did not, actually, love your shoes at all. In fact, the way she'd said she loved your shoes caused you to give them a closer look to figure out what was wrong with them.

It was something about the way the words didn't match the eyes that did it, that made the words less than hollow. It transformed them. The chasm between truth and assertion not only neutered the compliment but changed it into an insult.

"Ugh, she's so fake," you might tell your friend at lunch.

But I've been seeing more of this general fakery lately -- dishonest compliments, two-faced words belied by actions or demeanors, the "gosh, I love your shoes" of conversations. Women will sweetly wonder how to encourage their teenage daughters to be more "healthy," something that somehow always means "lose weight." A guy might ask for advice about how to kick a cheater out of his fantasy football group without even slightly upsetting the man. What people really want to know is, "How can I get what I want without asking for it? How can I say one thing and mean another?"

When true feelings emerge -- often anger, due to its persistence -- there's an explosion, like at a stoplight when the lady in the minivan doesn't come fast enough off the brake or when Uncle Fred's Facebook post seems slightly rude. There's permanent disengagement, threats, fury and actions out of bounds of normal behavior. When genuine reactions have been held back too much, maybe it's difficult to make their expression proportional to the offense. The interactions have a lot of weight to carry.

I can't blame it entirely on gentle parenting, but it certainly hasn't helped.

If you don't have young kids or grandkids, the "gentle parenting" technique might have passed you by.

It's been all the rage, though, and those who practice gentle parenting forswear all punishment (let alone any of the corporal variety). Instead, gentle parents validate babies' and children's emotions and behavior, always in a soft, soothing tone. They never judge or shame. They never admit to any non-tender feeling, never lose their limitless patience.

"McKynzie, I see you're feeling sad because it's time to leave the playground. You're so frustrated," a gentle mother says in a crooning, not-at-all-enraged voice as little McKynzie delivers a perfect uppercut to her mom's jaw. "You want to keep playing because it's so fun, and I wish we could stay at the park forever, sweetie, but hands are not for hitting."

McKynzie, though, knows better, because if hands aren't for hitting, then why do they do such a good job of it, Mom?

And why, McKynzie might wonder, is she talking to me in that sweet, singsong voice while I'm slugging her in the face?

Much of our communication is nonverbal, and I'm of the belief that little McKynzie is paying attention, close attention, to the response she gets in those situations. And her mother, no matter how thorough her gentle parenting training has been, cannot change the fact that she probably doesn't enjoy being smacked by her 3-year-old daughter in full view of the entire neighborhood.

So, what happens when the words "I'm empathetic to your struggles and support your continued expression of frustration" don't match the feelings, which are closer to "Two more seconds of this and I'm going to tear my hair out and go screaming into the street, leaving you and all my worldly possessions behind"?

What happens when a child learns that they shouldn't tell the truth, even to themselves, if the truth is that they're mad?

There's been some recent evidence of pushback to the gentle parenting wave, like in the Wall Street Journal piece, "Goodbye Gentle Parenting, Hello 'F -- Around And Find Out.'" In the story, the parents sometimes discipline a little harshly for my taste, but it's good to see a return to the recognition that parents are people, too. We make mistakes. We get mad.

Our kids need to see that, too, and not just because they must come to terms with our decidedly undivine status. They also need to see that authenticity is more than just acceptable. It's necessary for our emotional well-being.

In the service of politeness, mild dishonesty can be excused. Not everyone who asks how your day is going needs to hear about your constipation. And kids are particularly sensitive, especially to words from the people they love, so there's nothing wrong with watching our words or tone -- or moderating their intensity.

But in most interactions, being kind yet genuine often works better than being as nice as possible. You may not get exactly what you want, but in avoiding fakery, you'll have opened the valve and let off a bit of steam. Don't underrate the value of that.

I mean, you might still have to drag McKynzie off the playground kicking and screaming, but at least you have the comfort of being able to say this to her as you do it:

"Yeah, I get it. You're mad. Well, guess what, Little Missy? I'm mad, too."

And sometimes that's all you need to stay sane.

To learn more about Georgia Garvey, visit GeorgiaGarvey.com.

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