Mindfulness Tools for Managing Anger and Frustration, Part 1
Hi friend,
How have you been? I'm doing okay. Finding a middle ground for myself in the midst of lots of transitions.
I’m so happy to share with you the last in this 3-part series on dealing with difficult emotions. What a journey it’s been!
This one—anger and frustration—is a particularly challenging one for me; anger, and expressing it, comes with a sense of shame, even fear; it might lead to disconnection from others, rejection, unrest.
Does that resonate at all?
This is where I am tempted to tell you a funny story of a time I got unreasonably angry about something, and maybe you see yourself in it and we all feel a little more connected…. But in the world right now, that doesn’t feel like the story I should share.
Instead, I want to talk about how I’m feeling as I write this—which is angry! And justifiably so.
Let me explain.
We all also receive different messages about whether we’re allowed to be angry. These messages are often based on the social and cultural space that we occupy.
This article by Soraya Chamali says it well,
…Anger is most commonly associated with power for and by men and with powerlessness for and by women. This is because anger in men confirms gender role beliefs and expectations, but anger in women confounds them. Anger in women is still considered a sign of mental or hormonal imbalance, whereas in men it is perceived as ‘normal’ and associated with masculine control, leadership, authority and competence. The difference isn’t truly one of gender, but of status. Black and minority ethnic men are often subject to the same biases as girls and women broadly, and black and minority women experience both indivisibly.
In summary: Anger is a privilege. And most of us don’t get it.
(And for those who do, namely men who are white, it is practically the only emotion they are “allowed” to feel—which comes with its own multitude of problems.)
Ok. So now I’ll take a step inward. What does this mean in my own life?
It means this: I feel ashamed of the passionate ways I express myself, and I find that I apologize for them. My “muchness,” I have been told, makes others feel uncomfortable at times. People sometimes assume I am angry, even when I am not.
So, now I am going to tell a story, and it’s actually not about my own anger, but instead how I reacted to someone else’s perceived anger.
Before I was a speaker, I worked as an instructional coach helping teachers to hone their craft in two high school English departments. Coaching was a relatively new, and unwelcome, position in the departments (who felt understaffed and untrusted). Because of this, frustration and anger got directed toward me.
In one particular interaction, I was talking with a female colleague (who was black). I had felt the same vibes from her that I felt from other teachers—mainly that there was animosity toward me at times. I shared this in a conversation, and I think I used the phrase “sensed hostility” from her.
She got upset. She wondered aloud, “if I would have said this same thing to my white colleagues.”
When she said this, my immediate response was fear—no part of me wanted her to be angry with me, and I especially didn’t want to even imagine that my comment was biased. At the time, I didn’t understand her perspective.
Now I think I do.
Law professor Trina Jones states, "Black women are not supposed to push back and when they do, they're deemed to be domineering. Aggressive. Threatening. Loud."
What I said was triggering.
Living in a world where the range of human emotions are not available to all of us without consequences is stifling, unsustainable, cruel.
I think my experience with my colleague, and my internal reactions to my own anger, aren’t completely unique. If you are a person who has been told that your feelings—and particularly your anger—are not okay, I see you.
And also this: If you are afraid of others’ anger (and I have been there), this is something to witness and also try to understand.
Anger is a natural, human response that has a place in our world. And while trauma or social conditioning may make us feel otherwise, it behooves each of us to learn to withstand anger—both our own and others.
So, what to do with all this? Can we learn to be a compassionate witness to anger? I think it’s imperative that we do!
Another email to follow about toolkits for regulating our own anger, but first let’s just sit with this: anger has a place in the world and in ourselves. Being with it takes work. I provide a few tools below.
(Virtual) Hugs,
Brandi
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