On Being Black and Angry

(Hi yall sorry I've been missing. Life is good.)

This post is difficult for me to write, because there are so many things running through my head as I write this. I guess I'm just going to explain to yall the difficult relationship I have with anger, and why expressing my emotions is so liberating, but also scary and traumatic for me.

I've seen a lot of (white) feminist friends embrace their angriness and make it part of their identity. They're tired fo men telling them to smile, they're tired of being harassed, they're angry about women's rights, queer rights, etc. I agree. I'm angry too. But I just, I want to think about who that anger is reserved for? It's easy to reclaim the term angry, and attach it to your womanhood, when you're not already automatically viewed as masculine, inherently violent, inherently angry, simply for being black.

Growing up, I had always heard the expression angry black woman. I didn't really have any angry black women in my life though. My mother, I love her to death, but she is very passive and calm. My aunts are as well. I was always the angriest person I knew while growing up. It wasn't that I was just bitter, it's the fact that I've always been sincerely bothered by forms of injustice. Even when I was a little girl, if I felt as though something wasn't just or fair, I HAD to do something. I remember being in elementary school and telling on the boys in my class for inspecting if we were wearing bras, making fun of Native Americans, and a subtely racist comment my librarian said. I remember starting a petition when Lizzie McGuire was being canceled. In high school, if we were cheerleading, you did NOT want to make me irritated. I remember one day, a friend saw my tumblr and said "You just seem to have a lot of anger. Why ARE black women so angry?" In that moment, I lacked the language to explain why. I went home and vague blogged and cried for a minute or two.

In college, I was known for being outspoken. I say this in past tense because at my current school, I don't really have the typical college experience. But anyways, I was the girl who messed up a conference when I disagreed with someone hosting it. I would write in the paper. I would call out my boss, co-workers, anyone when I felt like they were being wrong or offensive. I'm not afraid of confrontation, ever.

 I never thought I would be seen as aggressive though. I'm naturally bubbly and have a high pitched voice. I lean towards things that are seen as feminine, or "girly." People know to never make me mad, but they also know that I can be soft and sweet, and would do anything for my friends.

It was at a national summit, for YP4. A progressive fellowship. This experience was draining in ways that I can't break down in this post, but I will acknowledge that it took me over a year to write about it until now. I had gotten on stage (like other POC) to call out behavior we had seen at the conference. I think I made a statement referencing people who attended a regional training in New York. A man I had never seen before tried to cut me off in the crowd, and I continued. After people were done talking, I walked up to the man and told him that as a Black, Queer woman, we rarely get the chance to speak and I didn't appreciate he cutting me off. He then stepped forward, towards my friend (who is also a woman) as though we were trying to fight him. After that, it was madness. He was calling us sweetie, I was getting more mad, my masculine and male friends were trying to calm him down, I was upset. Eventually, we came to some sort of weird agreement, but the situation made me feel really... ugly?

This man. This cis man, saw that I was upset. And because I was upset, he thought that I was going to fight him. I had never had that experience before. In my world, women do NOT fight men, because MEN are stronger and angrier, and women are weaker and calmer. Why would a man think that I would fight him? I would lose of course? Unless of course, this man doesn't see me as a woman. He doesn't see me as something he should respect or cherish, or take care of, because he does not see my womanhood, even when I am angry. That's when I realized. Angriness, is truly not for black women.

I started noticing it in little situations. A black man would hold the door open for everyone but me. Men on campus walk directly into me, and don't apologize. I'm not treated like a man, I'm treated like a masculine piece of nothing. I think it has to do with my stature as well. I'm really tall. But also, my complexion. My dark-skinned friends who are cis women are sometimes adressed as "sir" even while wearing stereotypically feminine clothing. I don't have to reclaim angriness because angrieness was already placed upon me.

In my last relationship, I was arguing with my partner. The situation was tense and heated. My partners friend was in the car. He, a cis man, started yelling at me. Eventually, he threatened to fight me. Later, when I brought this up to my ex, they said "he wouldn't have really done it." This situation was, and still is traumatic. Once again, not because of fear of physical violence, but because I realized that my femininity is often stripped of me. These situations, opened up the old wombs of blackness and colorism. Was there a point in identifying as femme/a woman if I was always going to be seen as violent and scary? Am I hideous to men? Would anyone find me attractive? Would I ever be treated like a woman?

A lot of therapy helped, but it still really sucks to be honest. Dating is difficult. Dating people lighter than me is super difficult. Dating people who have dated people lighter than me is painful. Being around men is painful. Finding myself attractive is hard. I've had to confront so many times the fact that the way that I look and feel can change the way I'm treated drastically. I had some drama with a man who was lighter than me this year, and seeing the way he was framed as a victim was exhausting for me. I feel like whenever I express an emotion other than happiness, no one questions where my anger is coming from. Instead they just see me as someone willing to lash out.

I think people often question why I'm so vocal on social media, and in person. They don't get why I care, why I call people out, why I'm so emotional, why I'm so angry. It's because I WANT to make you uncomfortable. I want you to be scared. I want you to confront the fact that I am willing to call someone out in public, and I'm willing to wear lipstick and dresses. I'm willing to be tough, and angry, and strong, and none of those facts impact my femmeness one bit. I don't have to smile to make you comortable. I don't have to soften myself to fix YOUR racism. You WILL respect my opinions, and you WILL respect my anger, and you WILL deal with how that makes you feel.

After the YP4 incident, I found myself apologizing to one of the men that helped descalate the situation. I think I said I was sorry for acting crazy, and I ddn't want him to think less of me. Two years later he brought up how that was weird. I agreed. It was weird. I am not sorry. I did nothing wrong.