The Angry Black Woman!!

 

Every black woman I know has had to battle with wearing the breast plated stereotype of her being labeled as the angry black woman. The connotations that we are unreasonable, outspoken the first one to raise hell and uncontrollable. It has been said that we are too emotional and become unhinged at the mere thought of everything and everyone that cross us wrong.

The stigmatism takes no account whatsoever of the possibility that our anger might be justified, and that something’s and some people are so deserving of a black woman’s anger. We are expected to swallow the bitter pill of daily insults to our gender with vulgar words, the insult of being demoralized, victimized and yes even hated. And you say that we are angry! It is said that as black women we don’t wear anger well, it doesn’t look good on us. I have known black women that have risked sanity to hide their anger, and I will be the first to get in line on that note. We risk nervous break downs and carry baggage instead of yelling “back off, right now and I mean it “. Wooosa!!
I am willing to be the first to admit now that I wasted a lot of years’ time and energy in the past being angry. It’s taken a lot of years for me to accept the fact that I’m one of those women who loves hard and feels deeply. Which I finally realized that both are a blessing and a curse. It took me quite a bit of time to figure out that anger is a gift from God.  I soon realized that anger helped me to set boundaries for myself, and put limits on those who cross those boundaries. And in my realization of that I learned how to contain my anger, and aim my anger. I am ashamed to say that I have not always aimed my anger at the right target in the past. I didn’t have to pull out my bow and arrow and hit every moving target that got in my way, are spit fire whenever someone said something dumb and stupid.
There were times when I should have taken the time to heal and grieve, cry, wipe my tears and keep it moving. Instead I developed an Indiana Jones complex of cracking the whip, throwing knives and darts. I should have sat quietly and patiently in solidarity, looking deep within the woman God created, understanding His purpose and His will for my life. I should have looked for the clarity that I needed to fight and survive the fight and come out stronger and wiser than I was before the fight. Anger is supposed to make you want to do something about the craziness and wrong all around you.  The world thinks that it’s an easy job just being a woman, let alone a black woman. Main stream media and television likes to attach the angry black woman, to every black woman. We are not the Aunt Esther’s Bible-toting angry black woman on "Sanford and Son." Or Madea, who carries (peace) Piece in her pocketbook. Pass the popcorn and a tissue please.
Why must we be labeled Nene, the finger-waving, all in-your-face loudmouth hellion on “The Real Housewives of Atlanta? Why should we be defined as having the starring role in I Can Do Bad All By myself, or Diary of a Mad Black Woman, more tissue and more popcorn please? Why do we have to be labeled angry black woman, why can’t we just live in the light of Tupac’s words ““Keep Ya Head Up ““And since we all came from a woman Got our name from a woman and our game from a woman I wonder why we take from our women Why we rape our women, do we hate our women? I think it’s time to kill for our women Time to heal our women, be real to our women”. Now let’s bob our heads and wave our fingers at that. And in the true light of things, when we are still labeled Angry Black Woman, let’s just keep calm, make sure we hit the right targets, and perhaps, just perhaps that’s what the Bible means when it says, “Be angry, but sin not.” Aim with precision. Ha I ‘ain’t mad at Ya!
~Indigokiss~