I. You have the right to judge your own behaviour, thoughts, and emotions, and to take the responsibility for their initiation and consequences upon yourself.
II. You have the right to offer no reasons or excuses for justifying your behaviour.
III. You have the right to judge if you are responsible for finding solutions to other people’s problems.
IV. You have the right to change your mind.
V. You have the right to make mistakes—and be responsible for them.
VI. You have the right to say, “I don’t know.”
VII. You have the right to be independent of the goodwill of others before coping with them.
VIII. You have the right to be illogical in making decisions.
IX. You have the right to say, “I don’t understand.”
X. You have the right to say, “I don’t care.”
— Manuel J. Smith, “When I Say No, I Feel Guilty” (1975)
In 1975, psychologist Manuel J. Smith published these ten rights as a manifesto against manipulation. They directly challenge the beliefs that fuel codependency, people-pleasing, and the survival strategies many of us developed in active addiction. They are practical tools for people who have spent years saying yes when they meant no, seeking validation through accommodation, and believing their worth depends on how useful they can be to others.
Smith identified something crucial about how manipulation works. It does not operate through force or logic. It operates through three specific emotional mechanisms: ignorance, anxiety, and guilt. When someone tells us “You don’t understand how hard this is for me,” they are not providing information. They are making us feel ignorant, as if we lack the knowledge needed to make a sound decision. When they say “If you really cared about me, you would do this,” they are targeting guilt, implying that our refusal proves we are selfish or uncaring. When they hint at dire consequences if we do not comply, they are creating anxiety about what might happen if we stand our ground.
These three tactics work together to reduce our ability to decide for ourselves. They make us doubt ourselves, question our own perceptions, and defer to someone else’s version of reality. The Bill of Assertive Rights restores that ability, giving us permission to draw our own conclusions.
For people raised to believe that worth depends on external approval, this can sometimes feel impossible. Many of us have spent years letting others define us, determine our value, and measure our worthiness. The fear that kept us compliant—the fear of being disliked, rejected, or deemed selfish—loses its power when we claim the right to set our own boundaries.
The road to wellbeing requires examining these beliefs honestly. It requires learning to distinguish between taking responsibility for our own behaviour and taking responsibility for everyone else’s feelings. We are responsible for how we treat people. We are not responsible for managing their emotions, solving their problems, or sacrificing our needs to keep them comfortable.
Disappointing someone is not the same as harming them. Setting a boundary is not an act of aggression but an act of clarity. For those in recovery, this distinction matters. We cannot stay well while simultaneously betraying our own truth to maintain the approval of others.
Which of these ten rights feels most difficult for me to claim?
When do I still let ignorance, anxiety, or guilt reduce my ability to make my own decisions?
What would change if I truly believed I could set a boundary without justifying it?
How do I distinguish between deciding for myself what’s acceptable and avoiding accountability for how I treat others?
