The Anger of Women in Black Bodies
As a child, my introversion was nurtured by an extreme shyness. Unless with close family or friends, I was very quiet. This all contributed to social anxiety around new people and unfamiliar environments. I listened intently as well as formed opinions and developed ideas that I often held deep within.
Looking back there is not a simple or single reason for how our personalities unfold. There are many factors contributing to not only who we are, but also who we think we are and how we identify ourselves. In “To Destruct Evil”, yesterday’s post, I acknowledged the enduring legacy of objectifying people in Black and Brown bodies as well as women. In writing it, I cried. That was an unusual reaction that happens rarely. Maybe it was my genetic makeup relieving itself of intergenerational trauma in some small way. Or, maybe it was myself wrestling with forces beyond my influence.
Whatever the catalyst, the publishing of “To Destruct Evil” left me with a sense of liberation. That is the feeling often released when I write. It is a practice of liberation. Had I been born a century earlier, speaking my truth would have had dreadful consequences, and it would have been illegal for me to learn to write. Needless to say, the clarity and boldness of my writing style would have threatened the systems built on denying my humanity. Even today there are those so indoctrinated in patriarchy, misogyny and white supremacy that they take offense when I speak of my lived experience and our shared history.
As I pondered the piece, I considered the stereotype of the angry woman in a Black body as well as my own anger. Years ago, I wrote a piece in which I explained how draining it is for me to be angry. I do not like being angry. I try to distract myself or submerge it. Evenso, there are some experiences and situations so heinous that anger is justified and righteous. It is our responsibility to manage the anger so that it does no harm. Instead, it compels us to resist injustice and to persist in doing so. By writing, I am able to address my anger in a healthy manner, while being vulnerable enough to share my pain with others.
As often the case with stereotypes, a truth is distorted and then used to demean and ridicule people who are denied power and authority. With what I shared yesterday, how can we, especially women in Black bodies, not experience a righteous and justified anger? How can those who witness the inhumanity of our objectification not also experience an anger that is righteous and justified? Where is their humanity? Yes, we know it is easier for others to turn away from the injustices of our systems. They have been conned to accept the lie that their liberation is not connected to ours. However, throughout the history of the United States, it is chronicled that as women in Black bodies move closer to justice everyone else also benefits.