The trope of “angry feminist” colored much of my early life. I always knew that I was technically a feminist, but the picture that most people in my community painted—that of indignance—was one that younger me, trying to fit in, was not brave enough to identify with. And besides, from my privileged vantage point, I could not understand what there was to be angry about.
There’s a reason that people joke about how college “radicalizes” students. Once state-regulated curriculum is removed, professors are more free to teach history that is not white-washed and heteronormative. College does not radicalize students; it makes us aware of what is really happening. And there is an acute sort of anger that arises when one learns they have been kept in the dark.
In college, I realized why so many feminists are angry. I took on that anger. But it is more than my male professors solely calling on male students in discussions about feminism. It is more than being dismissed by my “woke” male friends on issues that I know about, if those issues don’t fit their feminine molds.
We are taught to believe that it is the way of the world that men are superior, no matter how much people insist out loud that it is not. That breeds a slow anger in and of itself, but I think the most burning anger comes from the realization that patriarchy has not always existed, and that it is not required to exist. It is the realization that patriarchal systems are not just discriminatory, but dangerous. I do not live in a place where presenting as feminine puts me in immediate danger, and that is only solidified by my whiteness. That’s not the case worldwide.
The fact that our society socializes men to objectify is the reason for so much needless violence within everything from romantic relationships to the extremes, like sex trafficking. This patriarchal ideal hurts men too: The suicide rate for men is much greater than that of women. Why? It starts with how we socialize men never to show their emotions.
Most recently, I’ve found myself being angry about feminism itself and my role within it. I’ve learned how discriminatory the suffragette movement actually was—white women have been hijacking feminism from the very beginning. In Audre Lorde’s “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House,” a poignant read on reconciling differences within the feminist movement, Lorde writes, “How do you deal with the fact that the women who clean your houses and tend to your children while you attend conferences on feminist theory are, for the most part, poor women and women of color?”
Lorde recognizes the anger that women of color, queer womxn, and queer women of color feel as a result of the ignorance of white feminists. And on the flip side, she recognizes that it is uncomfortable to realize you have hurt someone with your words or actions, especially if it was unintentional. But she argues that it is essential for us to lean into our differences and our anger. Anger is healthy; anger is a force for change. We have to use our differences to our advantage. Women of color have been carrying the weight of the feminist movement on their shoulders for years without the recognition or backing they deserve.
The reason feminists are angry is because sexism is exhausting, but also misunderstood. Feminism is about everyday discrimination, but also so much more. The way we raise our children leads to millions of cases of abuse, exploitation, and murder worldwide. You should be angry if feminism has been painted as a “radical” movement, fraught with angry, man-hating women. You should be angry if your idea of feminism has been exclusively white, cisgendered, and heterosexual. You should be angry, because you most likely haven’t been shown the full picture.
