I often wonder when the appropriate time to be angry is. This consideration always includes the knowledge of the fact that women are stereotyped as overly emotional to begin with and that dissent in any form equals irrationality. And this also includes the knowledge that black women, even while literally grinning from ear to ear, are considered perpetually angry.
Michelle Obama is angry. Serena Williams is angry. Oprah too. Beware of the angry, fiery, combating black woman.
I ignore a lot. I hold the belief that many acts of ignorance are done in isolation and therefore it is unnecessary for me to combat. However, if I see something that I believe is a symptom of a more pervasive problem then I will most likely comment.
Many people find it hard to respect black women. Even the people birthed, raised, and protected by them.
What is a black woman but a body made to carry or forced not to carry a child, a vehicle for sex, and a deflector for white women, a joke for everyone else?
Does my realization of this make me angry & bitter? Does it matter if you think I’m angry & bitter? Is that a bad thing? Should I be ashamed and pretend like I don’t know these things?
Is anger not natural when one is subjected to atrocities upon atrocities, violence personally directed at them that they cannot control?
I feel like a lot of black women are afraid to be angry because they fear further marginalization: we want acceptance as Americans, acceptance from our men, acceptance in general. But if we exude anger then we are trivialized. Tossed aside. At least before we were allowed to stand beside somebody, even if it was only silently and as an inferior.
A black woman has no right to react to violence done against her. A black woman does not own rights to her body, but also her mind. Her mind is to be a conduit for the purposes of everyone other than herself.
Some of us has accepted this reality and take the degradation silently. Some of us speak out fully knowing the consequences.
I realize that I am a privileged black woman. I have the space to be angry when violence, mockery, and degredation is directed towards black women because I love and support black women knowing fully well that my environment is relatively free from these injustices. I live in a pocket of love, regard, and care.
I am lucky I have never been cat-called at, called a hoe, or have experienced sexual violence. I am lucky that I don’t have to be bitter with black men because I have been surrounded by caring and supportive ones. I am lucky that I don’t have to live in disillusionment because I have found spaces of autonomy and love even as a black woman.
I realize that I am blessed. I am happy most of the time.
But I cannot deny another black woman’s right to anger, bitterness, and disillusionment knowing the facts as they stand.