Embracing anger

Anger is not an emotion I feel comfortable with. I’m afraid of a fire that runs that hot—that has the potential to be destructive and vicious. A fire that can be carried away with the winds and end up burning the very house in which it was kindled.

My therapist and I have been unpacking anger and how women are conditioned away from it. We can be sad, yes. But angry? No, never. I’ve internalized this more than I’ve been willing to admit.

Last week, I picked up a copy of the legendary Forough Farrokhzad’s poetry translated by Elizabeth T Gray Jr and came across this poem. The fury and the rage of a brilliant woman repressed nearly stole my breath.

I didn’t know how much I would need to take refuge in her words this past week, wrap them and the beauty of my culture around me like a blanket to sooth my seething heart.

I’m so angry. I’m so angry that my homeland and all the incredibly brilliant and brave people within it are strangled by this oppressive regime. That my gorgeous, soulful culture is once again reduced to political headlines. That greedy corrupt men have stolen so much from so many of us.

Anger, like all emotions, should be acknowledged. It should be called by its name and recognized for the messages and lessons it brings with it. And it should also be released—by breath, by art, by devotion to energies greater and brighter than it.

My anecdote to anger this week is hope. Hope that the Iranian people will persevere and liberate their country. Hope that together we’re moving our collective consciousness towards the safety, freedom, and prosperity of all people.

My heart is with Iran, today and all days.
زن زندگی آزادی