“Racism. The belief in the inherent superiority of one race over all others and thereby the right to dominance, manifest and implied.
Women respond to racism. My response to racism is anger. I have lived with that anger, ignoring it, feeding upon it, learning to use it before it laid my visions to waste, for most of my life. Once I did it in silence, afraid of the weight. My fear of anger taught me nothing. Your fear of that anger will teach you nothing, also.”
-Audre Lorde
I often think about how anger shows up in my life. Over the past decade, I have seen it reveal itself in ways that support my vision for my life and the future. My anger is part of what fuels my unapologetic belief that freedom is possible for all people. It has provided direction to my vocation as an educator.
There have been times when I have backed away from feelings of anger, misnaming them as confusion, sadness, or exhaustion. I did this because I was afraid of how people might perceive me if I admitted that I was in a constant state of rage. I am not saying that I spend my days screaming and fighting with my fists, although I understand that anger. My anger has shown up in ways that have led to sickness, leaving me as only a fraction of myself.
Here is a list of thoughts I have encountered over this past week alone, highlighting the fact that it is incomplete. I know that there are children who are attending schools within systems that are actively harming them. I understand that leaders I support lose sight of their power as they navigate systems that were built to maintain the status quo. I read the headlines about Black women being pushed out of leadership positions and killing themselves due to their mistreatment, feeling too heavy. I listen to children speak their minds as they are pushed out of school because of the texture and length of their hair. I am clear on the fact that there are currently people around the world who are dying in wars they have no part in starting. I continue to hear organizations say they want to improve outcomes for Black people but refuse to address the anti-Black racism that lives out loud in their systems. I am conscious, and therefore I am angry.
Glenn Ligon, “Warm Broad Glow”. Photo: Colony Little
Recently, I was discussing some of my previously mentioned thoughts with my colleague and I suddenly felt at a loss for words. I took a deep breath and noticed. I wondered what it must take for someone who consistently feels this type of rage to ultimately stay well. If I were to never stop and notice how my anger is negatively impacting my pursuit of living a full life, I would crumble into pieces. So, I am writing this today because I think that it is important for those of us who are acutely aware of how injustice exists in our lives, to make space to take care.
Wholeness is a personal goal of mine. When I say whole, I am referring to the idea that I can be any and all things. I think of the attainment of wholeness as a luxury for Black women. Often, there are ways that we are expected to be because systems of oppression keep us confined. I actively resist that idea. I can be angry, but I can also be full of joy. I can be at peace. I can feel inspired, confident, and soft. I can take time to see what is working, where change is happening, and where my work is positively impacting the lives of others. I want to note that taking care of myself does not mean I am avoiding anger. I am just committing to specific actions to ensure that I find balance.
In her book, “Real Self Care”, Dr. Pooja Lakshmin reminds me that “it’s the system that’s broken” not me. There is destined to be some kind of impact when I am constantly dealing with the experience of being marginalized, silenced, and pushed out. Living in environments that are informed by hate, individualism, and scarcity. I actively navigate through environments that are not of me, not of my spirit, and not of my soul. While I am not necessarily concerned with evaluating how one cares for oneself as ‘real’ or not, I am interested in exploring the idea that care is essential because I wonder if it is something Black women are consistently building into our lives.
While I haven’t always done this, I am now putting consistent effort into taking care of myself. For me, this looks like spending time by myself reading, baking, or going to art museums. It might include binge-watching my favorite competition cooking shows or talking with my cousin. I might buy myself a fresh pair of sneakers or watch something ultra-nerdy at a movie theatre. Some days, it can look like inviting my friends over and laughing while we play cards. It can even look like clearing out my email inbox or reconciling my task list. The truth is, taking care of myself changes with each season of my life, but what I know for sure is that I like to tell myself, “If it makes you feel good, do it” and say this without guilt or worry. In these practices, I feel more whole.
I understand that there is much work to do to create a world where all people can truly have the same access to lives of opportunity and choice. A world where there are people who do not have to accept that they will always be angry. I can do seemingly impossible, one might even call them magical, things because I recognize my rage as a strength. My anger is power and my ability to care for myself in the midst of it is beautiful.
In Solidarity,
Dr. LeAnna Alicia Majors
Aug 25, 2024
4 min read
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