Anger, and Why We Need to Embrace It
anger
and why we need to embrace it
these past several weeks, I have felt more anger than ever before in my life.
why?
what changed?
well, actually, nothing; nothing seems to have changed, and that’s exactly why I’ve been so angry.
most everything I do in my life is centered around finding my own liberation and seeking liberation for + with others, as well. I am constantly fighting. constantly shouting into a noisy world. often demanding, sometimes begging, for things to change.
most recently, my anger has come up from the string of disgusting holidays that take place this time of year – namely, the day that commemorates (among other things) the slaughter, violation, and displacement of Indigenous peoples in the U.S., the day that most call “thanksgiving”.
I stopped participating in this day several years ago, after having transitioned into vegan practice and coming to realise just how obscene a ‘holiday’ it is. not only did this day represent the mass-scale murder of 45+ million turkeys each year (a fact I can’t even comprehend?), but it seemed to embody every part of this country’s exploitative, gluttonous spirit. on this most grateful of days, we make sure to say thank you for things we stole. on this most abundant of days, worshipping the gods of eating until sick and shopping until sunrise, one could almost manage to violate all of the ten commandments at once.
but what hurt and upset me the most was realising that
nearly no one around me was calling these things out.
I was still receiving invitations to extravagant dinners, planned over weeks.
I was still getting emails about the best deals on slave-labor tvs and other electronics.
I was still witnessing bodies carved up, spiced, and decorated in bows.
I was still hearing about the grace of God and His mercy.
I was still seeing ‘family’ gather after dinner to watch others beat each other up while throwing a pig-skin around.
I was still finding happy pilgrims and ‘Indians’ as the stars in warm-hearted, seasonal movies, a story distant from the reality of families torn apart across generations.
and five years later, it feels
like nothing has changed.
if anything has changed, it is that people now sneak around and are hesitant to bring this day up to me, as if I am what’s wrong with the holiday. the most clever tell me that they agree and that they don’t even celebrate thanksgiving, that they’re gathering and eating and yes on this very day but it’s definitely not thanksgiving. they call it by a different name, or don’t call it anything at all.
I am not fooled.
but I am definitely angry.
I’m angry because I see that others are mostly angry and aware as well, but continue to act like I am the only one upset.
I understand that they are afraid of what anger will do.
I see that people are generally afraid of what anger will do.
black folks police each other and avoid seeming angry at any cost, terrified of any expression that will affirm that we are, indeed, animals; each interaction is a test of how we can remain polite (read: white) even as we are brutalised. people advocating for non-human liberation do everything they can to not come across as an ‘angry vegan’, playing one billion social roles – nutritionist, philosopher, teacher, historian, economic expert, therapist – in order to always seem rational and prepared, but never angry. we are taught to apologise for seeming upset about industralised murder. when someone ignores our pronouns and brings up traumatising or disaffirming names, we are quick to apologise and assure that we are not bothered, that we are actually grateful they even tried – did we mention we’re grateful? and femmes – perhaps the archetype of anger-avoidance – are so conditioned to be afraid of anger that most of us apologise it away before it’s even been thought of; when others take from us and hurt us, we often try to give extra to make sure they are taken care of, quick to forget that we are being abused.
if we reflect, we begin to realise that
fear of anger
is actually a socially-engineered tool to keep the marginalised quiet about the things that matter most.
it was created so that things stay precisely how they are, meaning that any time we are doing anything worth doing, others will be angry with us.
I remember the first time I really embraced my anger, actually a few years ago, this same season: I was in New York with a group of activists, disrupting the goings-on of the holiday and making sure people were not able to forget its history.
at one point, we were blocking traffic in Times Square and after only a few moments, someone screamed at me from their taxi-
“get out of the fucking road, you idiot, or I’ll run you over right now”
as they continued to press into the gas and against my body with their car.
I don’t know what kind of Scorpio I was channeling in the moment, but I was not moving – I remember the culmination of so many fears, and how liberated I felt from each of them. I was not moving. I was alive, very alive. where in the rest of my life, I felt like I was in a constant dance to avoid the potential of others’ anger being directed at me, here was a person who was so inconvenienced that they were prepared to take my life.
and there I was.
I was terrified, I was existing, I was taking up space – and I was angry as fuck, too.
I make an effort to remember that moment as I move through my life now; years later, I recall the irate twisting of that person’s face as a reminder of the conversation we had in just a few instants, of the kind of emotional dialogue I didn’t know what possible until then. a reminder of how I was afraid and that I also survived. that someone can be angry with me and I will not die from it.
that I can be angry with others and they will not die from it.
that I should be angry with others when they are causing death, either by taking life directly or caring so little about protecting it that it fades away.
this year, and every year forward,
i promise
to remain angry.
I promise to remain angry because anger is purposeful. because it is useful; because it gets shit done. because it is necessary. because it is healing. because it is liberating. because it is insightful.
because if I am angry about something, it means I am aware of a wrong in the world.
because when I feel I have found something true and special in life but choose not to share it with others I care about for fear of upsetting them, then I am not being generous, I am being selfish – because it is not my place to decide for others that they are not ready to grow.
I dream of an angry world, one that feels a lot and feels it intensely.
I dream of an intolerant world, one that does not remain silent when witnessing violence; a world which says “I remember, and I will continue to remember”.
may we remain
angry and intentional.
forceful and gentle. understanding and unforgiving. compassionate and firm, warm and passionately burning, ever close to the deconstructive and healing spirit of fire, to the swift and unyielding might of lightning.
may we burn away illusion;
may we cast away doubt.
may we be illuminated by promise.
may we undo, so that something else may be – so that we may do differently.
may we remain dreaming, and forever beyond fear.
Amani Michael
intuit.hue founder + guide
