The Angry Black Woman - Yeah, they are on to something
So I'm having a discussion about anger today right. I realize that I've fallen into the slither of space in the world that is designated for the angry black woman. Anyone who knows me well knows that I can be a very angry person. I have control issues. I want my life to be smooth and easy and shit. And because that's not the way my life is set up, I react with anger. It's quick. It's swift. Then it's over. I started writing a blog a while ago about anger. Here's what I ended up with:
This blog has been a long time coming. I think I reached a tipping point today, so instead of lashing out I will write it out. I've been angry. My mood has been set mostly to anger lately. Small things have angered me. Old things have angered me. People close to me have annoyed and angered me. New things have angered me.
I don't like this part of living. I understand that I'm not going to be happy all the time. I, however, do not like being angry. I don't know what to do with that emotion. I don't like to sit with it. I don't like to let it take its course. For me, anger taking its course meant physical and verbal violence. I learned this very early. Anger was not one of those emotions that I just felt, acknowledged, and moved through. Anger was a call to action. Anger was a request to show you what was going on. Anger was the set before things got out of control. It was an indicator that things were about to get out of control.
I can write about, rationalize, and intellectualize my anger before and after. I am not in control during. Sometimes I don't want to be. There are times when I want the anger to take over. I want it to express what I've been trying to say. I want it to get my point across. I want it to make you listen. I want it to punish you. I feel like you deserve it. I feel like it's your punishment for mistreating me. I feel like it's what you get for not listening.
I'm learning different ways to express my anger. As a black woman, the levels of frustration that come with this existence can easily fall into the abyss. Solitude, singlehood, people telling us who we are, people telling us who we are not, people telling us what to do, people telling us what not to do, people telling us who to be, people telling us who not to be, toggling between strength and depression, treading lightly (or heavily) in the sexuality room, being mothers to our children and our men, not knowing how to be kind to one another, not knowing how to be gentle with self *goes cross-eyed*
With everything we have to contend with, why are we pretending that we don't have a right to be angry....not A right....THE right. WHY? I'm not saying that other women don't have to deal with their fair share of shit. I'm just saying that while dealing with OURS, why won't we give ourselves (and TAKE) permission to be angry?
I deserve to be able to feel my feelings. I shouldn't have to eat, sex, drink, or medicate them away. They deserve a voice. Why do I have to stuff my feelings? Why must I wear a mask? The world really can't take me being vulnerable? Well guess what....I DONT GIVE A FUCK.
When I need to be angry, I'll be angry. I won't be destructive. But I WILL give light to the validity of my experience. And I won't stay there, but I WILL go there when and if I need to. And you'll have to learn to get through it. And you'll have to learn to cope. And you'll have to learn to deal. And we all will be ok.
But what's NOT going to happen is that I, as a black woman, will continue to deny parts of my experience....no matter what it looks like. The same way the ocean never denies a river, I will not deny parts of me. The world will be a better place...angry black women and all.
This blog has been a long time coming. I think I reached a tipping point today, so instead of lashing out I will write it out. I've been angry. My mood has been set mostly to anger lately. Small things have angered me. Old things have angered me. People close to me have annoyed and angered me. New things have angered me.
I don't like this part of living. I understand that I'm not going to be happy all the time. I, however, do not like being angry. I don't know what to do with that emotion. I don't like to sit with it. I don't like to let it take its course. For me, anger taking its course meant physical and verbal violence. I learned this very early. Anger was not one of those emotions that I just felt, acknowledged, and moved through. Anger was a call to action. Anger was a request to show you what was going on. Anger was the set before things got out of control. It was an indicator that things were about to get out of control.
I can write about, rationalize, and intellectualize my anger before and after. I am not in control during. Sometimes I don't want to be. There are times when I want the anger to take over. I want it to express what I've been trying to say. I want it to get my point across. I want it to make you listen. I want it to punish you. I feel like you deserve it. I feel like it's your punishment for mistreating me. I feel like it's what you get for not listening.
I'm learning different ways to express my anger. As a black woman, the levels of frustration that come with this existence can easily fall into the abyss. Solitude, singlehood, people telling us who we are, people telling us who we are not, people telling us what to do, people telling us what not to do, people telling us who to be, people telling us who not to be, toggling between strength and depression, treading lightly (or heavily) in the sexuality room, being mothers to our children and our men, not knowing how to be kind to one another, not knowing how to be gentle with self *goes cross-eyed*
With everything we have to contend with, why are we pretending that we don't have a right to be angry....not A right....THE right. WHY? I'm not saying that other women don't have to deal with their fair share of shit. I'm just saying that while dealing with OURS, why won't we give ourselves (and TAKE) permission to be angry?
I deserve to be able to feel my feelings. I shouldn't have to eat, sex, drink, or medicate them away. They deserve a voice. Why do I have to stuff my feelings? Why must I wear a mask? The world really can't take me being vulnerable? Well guess what....I DONT GIVE A FUCK.
When I need to be angry, I'll be angry. I won't be destructive. But I WILL give light to the validity of my experience. And I won't stay there, but I WILL go there when and if I need to. And you'll have to learn to get through it. And you'll have to learn to cope. And you'll have to learn to deal. And we all will be ok.
But what's NOT going to happen is that I, as a black woman, will continue to deny parts of my experience....no matter what it looks like. The same way the ocean never denies a river, I will not deny parts of me. The world will be a better place...angry black women and all.
Getting stuff off your chest is quite healthy... considering "the times", there are definitely reasons out there to become angry occassionally. Besides being unhealthy, not becoming angry may be associated with being either fake or indifferent/apathetic.
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