The Garden Salon

In February, you are invited to embark on an exploration of the emotion rage. Infamously known as a “secondary emotion” stemming from hurt, rage is something people are taught to conquer, hate, and be ashamed of. I have always felt guilt about getting angry. That changed when I listened to angry women and started to trust myself. I am hoping this writing series can help other people get curious about their rage and at best a loving, right (for them) relationship to their rage.

In 2021, I was reeling from a broken brain/heart situation from familial and dating abuse. I felt mad all the time. It was keeping me up at night and affecting my desire to be around others. I wasn’t embracing the rage, just oscillating between getting mad, feeling out of control, exhausted, and helpless. I decided to take up martial arts. I’d gained a lot of weight and felt like hitting things would help me not feel crazy. I knew this needed to metabolize or it would eat me.

My karate instructor was the same man I had lessons with as a child. Eccentric, strong as hell. Sparring practice was a bit intimidating as it was just me and him and his half-kicks hurt. We trained for a month, things were going okay, but he made conversation which constantly teetered on problematic. I knew eventually there would be something I did not need or want to hear. Eventually.

That time came, but only after I had what felt like a vulnerable momement with him a week or so before. Layer on the complexities. My younger sister was in town, in the house I was living in. My mother and I lived together, but she traveled often and at this time she was gone, so just me and my sister.

I can’t recall the exact details of this conflict. Something happened. Things were said, and I can only remember my fury. 3 years later it is now a ghost fury. But this outburst resulted in me going no contact with my sister for about two years.

I had karate practice the next day. My instructor asked me what was wrong. I told him that I felt shame for “letting my anger take over.” He’d spoken on our jogs and during my practice drills about the danger of being overcome by rage. He preached that people who weren’t disciplined or well suited to protect themselves and others, flew off the handles. A strong person, controlled their anger. A message I’d heard over and over: the wise, the powerful, the right people do not get angry.

The next week on the mats, he and I warmed up. We were talking about my farm and my karate instructor said, “Harriet Tubman?! Well nobody would want to marry her. She was too ugly to marry. No one would want her as a wife.”

Wouldn’t you know, I got pissed off. Because what the fuck. But I didn’t let rage consume me. I called him the next day after that unprovoked commentary denouncing Harriet Tubman. I would talk to him clear and level headed and let him know, I do not want to hear things like that while I train.

“Well, that’s not what I said.” His voice was calm over the phone. I was stunned. It was less than 24 hours ago. And probably the fifth millionth time I’ve had someone tell me “that’s not what I said.”

Yes. Of Course. I made it up. Like I always do. That’s my problem. I want to be mad, I want to find things to be mad about.

I actually wasn’t angry in that moment, I was exhausted. “Okay. Well I won’t be continuing training with you anymore.”

Who tells us how to feel about how we feel? And what or who are these lessons serving? Why is it okay to feel so disgusted by the way you think Harriet Tubman looks and express that, but it isn’t okay to become infuriated when your sister says “and this is why people you date hit you.”

Mona Eltahawy, an Egyptian- American journalist and author, helped me feel okay with being angry. She helped me see the honor and power in being an angry woman. I learned through her work and other writers’ the necessity for women to embrace rage. Because we deserve to. Because embracing rage means you know something isn’t right and want to change that.

Eltahawy doesn’t preach lashing out on underserving people. Misplacing rage is throwing abuse in someone’s face because they’ve told you they are tired of your attitude. To honor rage is multifold and a skill building exercise we should all be able to practice (Plug the Rage Writing Series.) This world and society causes so much hurt, and if rage and anger are secondary emotions to those injuries, we must stop pretending chasing rage away heals the wound.

I’ve felt my rage teach me my standards. I can and should only accept instruction from people who see Black women as human beings, not just whether or not they are “pretty enough” to marry(spoiler the karate instructor is a Black man with an Asian wife.)

When my karate instructor denied that he said what he said, when he lied to me, rage wasn’t there. I’m still learning how rage and why rage presents itself. It’s often a response to feeling like I let myself down or another person betrayed me. But being lied to is pathetic; rather than rage, I feel disgust.

These distinctions help me understand myself. I’m angry because I deserve and know better. Rage says, we won’t do that again- granted I listen and learn.

In a world that’s asked you to ignore your rage or treat it as unhelpful and a hinderance to your growth, there is no honoring your anger.

In the Garden Salon you are invited to see your rage as an ally, a friend, a teacher. Unlearn the relationship to rage that calls it a monster. Is it not natural to dislike disrespect, harm, and disingenuous behavior? Why than should we chase away what is natural? Who does that serve?