This all started with an inner exploration — with my own personal journey to be kinder to myself.
I was learning to speak to my inner child with more patience. To understand where my reactions came from, especially the ones I wasn’t proud of. It was difficult work, looking inward like that. Uncomfortable. But it changed how I saw myself — and then, unexpectedly, it changed how I saw everyone else.
I started noticing people differently.
People I disagreed with. People whose voices felt divisive, whose perspectives showed up across TV screens, social platforms, and newsfeeds. People I’d dismissed as aggressors or villains. And a question surfaced that I hadn’t considered before:
What if they’re trying to be kind to themselves, or to their own?
Not kind in a way I recognised. Not kind in a way I agreed with. But protective. Loyal. Trying to keep something or someone safe. Responding to fear, or anger, or a threat I couldn’t see from where I stood.
I didn’t start agreeing with them. But I started understanding them differently.
They weren’t monsters. They were people. Scared, sometimes. Angry, often. Trying to protect what mattered to them in the only way they knew how. And I recognised those feelings. We all feel them.
Once I stopped seeing people as villains, I started seeing them as human beings operating from their own logic, their own history, their own circle of care. And if I could extend that understanding to people I profoundly disagreed with, maybe I could extend it more consistently to everyone. To colleagues. To family members. To strangers in a comment thread.
Maybe communication could feel different if we started from curiosity instead of judgement.
I’m a parent. I watch my children navigate a world that feels increasingly divided. I think about my future mokopuna — the world they’ll inherit. I wanted to offer them something. Not answers. Not a fixed way of seeing things. A practice. A way of staying connected to their own humanity and the humanity of others, even when things feel hard.
So I started building with friends and loved ones.
Best of Our KIND is a movement exploring a simple premise: communication can be kinder, even when it’s difficult.
Not softer. Not less honest. Not avoiding hard truths or pretending we all agree.
Kinder.
Kinder means pausing before reacting. It means recognising that most people, even those you disagree with, are trying to protect something that matters to them. It means expressing your truth without diminishing someone else’s humanity. It means disagreeing with dignity. It means treating yourself with the same patience you try to offer others.
We’re not naive. There are bad actors. People who manipulate with their words and actions, who weaponise communication for power or control. They exist. But they are the exception, not the rule.
This movement isn’t for the manipulators. It’s for everyone else. For the vast majority of people who genuinely care, who are trying their best, and who — more often than not — have been on the receiving end of manipulation themselves.
I believe that people who are most aggressively opposed often have more in common than they realise. They face similar challenges, similar fears, similar desires for safety and belonging. Their solutions may differ profoundly, but the underlying needs are often shared.
What if we could widen our circle of care to include those who face the same struggles, even when their responses look nothing like ours? What if the path to a more careful, caring world runs through recognising our shared humanity — not despite our differences, but alongside them?
I’m trying to build tools that make this easier to notice, connect with and/or do.
This isn’t about perfection. It’s about practice. Small shifts that accumulate. Moments where someone pauses, considers another perspective, chooses curiosity over assumption.
We believe a few things deeply.
We share this planet. Our survival, our wellbeing, our ability to address the challenges ahead of us all depend on our capacity to work together. Division doesn’t serve us. Connection does.
Most people are protecting something. When someone communicates with intensity, defensiveness, or anger, they’re often protecting something they value. A belief. An identity. A person. A way of life. Understanding what they’re protecting doesn’t mean agreeing with how they’re doing it. But it makes them human instead of monstrous.
Those most opposed often share the most. People on opposite sides of an issue frequently face similar challenges, similar fears, similar threats to what they hold dear. Their solutions may be different, but the underlying struggles are often shared. Recognising this doesn’t erase difference — it creates space for dignity within it.
Difference is not a threat. We don’t all need to think the same, believe the same, or want the same things. We just need to treat one another with dignity while we navigate those differences.
Kindness is not weakness. It takes courage to stay curious when someone challenges what you hold dear. It takes strength to listen when you’d rather defend. It takes discipline to speak truthfully without cruelty. Kindness is one of the hardest things we can practise consistently.
Communication matters. How we speak to one another shapes the world we live in. Every exchange is an opportunity to either deepen division or build connection. We get to choose, again and again, which world we’re creating.
Kindness begins inwardly. Many of us are harsher with ourselves than we’d ever be with someone we care about. Self-kindness isn’t indulgence. It’s foundational. The same curiosity and patience we try to extend to others, we must also offer inward.
This movement is for everyone who communicates in good faith.
It’s for people who feel exhausted by the tone of public conversation. For parents trying to model something better for their children. For educators helping young people learn emotional literacy. For teams trying to collaborate across differences. For anyone who’s ever sent a message they wish they’d worded differently.
It’s for people who communicate with intensity and people who withdraw in conflict. For those who use humour to deflect and those who speak with unwavering conviction. For peacemakers and challengers and everyone in between.
It’s for people who have been manipulated, dismissed, or talked over. For those who’ve been told their perspective doesn’t matter. For anyone who’s felt the sting of being dehumanised in conversation.
This movement is for all ages — from children learning to express themselves, to adults navigating complex conversations, to elders sharing wisdom gained through decades of lived experience.
It welcomes all genders, all political perspectives, all religions, all cultures, and all identities.
We do not align with political movements or religious doctrine. We remain neutral in belief and grounded in universal human dignity.
This movement doesn’t ask you to change who you are.
It offers support for expressing yourself with more care, clarity, and confidence. For noticing when your words land differently than you intended. For staying curious about what others might be protecting, even when you can’t see it. For recognising common ground even when solutions diverge.
This is for anyone who wants to be part of a kinder communication culture.
We’re working toward a world where kindness is practised consciously and confidently.
Where children grow up learning that disagreement doesn’t require dehumanisation. Where workplaces value psychological safety as much as productivity. Where online spaces don’t default to hostility. Where families can navigate difference without fracturing.
Where people speak their truth and listen to others. Where we recognise that those who oppose us most fiercely might be facing the same fears, just proposing different solutions. Where self-compassion is normalised, not dismissed. Where communication is seen as contact between human beings, not performances for an audience.
We’re not naive. We know this work is difficult. We know systems, histories, and power structures shape how we communicate. We know manipulation exists. We know one movement can’t solve everything.
But we also know this: culture shifts when enough people start practising differently.
Small acts accumulate. Pauses matter. One moment of curiosity instead of judgement. One kinder message. One conversation where someone felt heard instead of dismissed. One realisation that the person across the divide might be protecting something you also value, just in a different way.
These contribute to something larger.
This movement isn’t mine. It belongs to everyone who participates in it.
I started it because I saw something in myself that needed changing, and realised that same shift could help others. I built some tools to make that easier. But the movement grows through the people who use those tools, who bring these practices into their homes and classrooms and workplaces, who choose to communicate with intention.
You don’t need credentials to take part. You don’t need to be perfect at it. You just need to care how your words land and be willing to keep learning.
There’s no single way to be involved.
Share a moment of kindness on the Kind Wall. Explore your communication style with the How I Speak quiz. Use the Tone Guide when emotions run high. Bring these ideas to your community. Or simply pause before replying to a message, asking yourself: What might this person be protecting that I can’t see? What challenges might we share, even if our solutions differ?
Every small act matters.
Because we’re not just building tools. We’re contributing to a shift in how we speak to one another. How we meet conflict. How we hold space for difference. How we recognise the humanity in people we disagree with. How we widen our circle of care to include those facing similar struggles, even when their responses look nothing like ours.
We’re building the world our children — and future mokopuna — deserve.
And we’re doing it one conversation, one pause, one moment of curiosity at a time.
– Karl Te Aika
The core tools (the Kind Wall, Communication Style Explorer, and Message Guider) are free, and always will be.
We rely on the support of our community to sustain and grow this movement. If these resources have helped you, and you’re able to contribute, your support helps us develop new tools, create workshops, and reach more people.
Your contribution is entirely optional. The movement exists because people choose to participate, not because they’re able to pay.