You are the emotion I treat with disdain, like you are unnatural, unwelcome, and a threat to my entire internal family.
I never let you speak.
I cover your mouth and call you sadness, exhaustion, grief, burnout, embarrassment, insecurity, dysregulation, and desire.
I force you to tell polite little and big lies.
I fear I am tainted by you.
And I never let you speak.
Tonight, I see you do not make me dangerous, but my silence makes you desperate. I see that you are the shadow I have refused to integrate. You scare me.
I fear losing control of my tongue and saying hurtful things.
I fear losing control of myself.
I do not punish my child because I am afraid. Because I believe most people do not intend to hurt children. Because I do not want to become the abusers I have experienced and witnessed. And because you, anger, have been blamed for too much that was never yours to carry.
Every day I am fighting against being labeled an angry Black woman. I am fighting against you. And it is probably killing me.
My blood pressure has been out of control since my twenties. I distinctly remember suppressing you during that season.
Forgive me. “Anger is bad” was a child’s understanding. I did not know you are an emotion, a signal, energy, boundary information, and a response to violation, injustice, threat, or loss.
I did not know you are not aggression. You are not violence. And you are not the reason people hurt me or those I love.
I see you. You are safe here. I will be the adult, responsible container you need. I will give you language instead of silence.
So here we go:
I am angry that someone who was dangerous in my childhood still impacts my adult life.
I am angry that I am parenting under-resourced and overwhelmed.
I am angry that my child’s biological parents do not choose consistency.
I am angry that I do not know half of what feels required to parent “well.”
I am angry that this raggedy ass apartment complex is raising the rent.
I am angry that I did not get that job.
I am angry that the person I’m emotionally invested in is emotionally stifled.
I am angry that I constantly have to prove, defend, advocate, and justify.
And I am furious that it is not my fault, but it is still my responsibility.
I am angry. And that is okay. Feeling angry does not equal being out of control. “Be angry, and sin not” does not mean anger is a sin.
