Think about the last time you genuinely felt rage.
White-knuckle, gut-churning, seething, stab-a-bitch anger. Now, like most women, you might have just silently mouthed to yourself ‘for fuck’s sake’ and then moved on, perhaps bottling up the anger and pushing it down, until it exploded in a wave of tears when your husband told you he’d lost the expensive maternity clothes you purchased online (because you’ve already put on 20kg and soon will just be sporting a fitted sheet with a head hole cut out) and all he needed to do was collect it from the post office and bring it home but instead he has a “black hole in his mind” when he tries to remember what he did with it. Just me? Anyway.
When women get angry, we often don’t express it. We joke about it, we lessen it, we lock it away. Or we eat and drink it with a cheese cracker dipped in red wine.
But imagine if, just once, you could let people know the depth of your anger. You could really let rip about how you were feeling, how deeply you were hating, in some kind of public meltdown of rage.
That kind of emotional release is rarely thought out well; it’s usually a bit blame-y and swear-y, bordering on a rant. If you get to the point of doing it, you haven’t really considered how much negativity YOU have contributed to the situation, you just wanted to yell and scream and call everyone a bunch of cunts.
Well, let me introduce you to Susan.
Susan let her rage out. And it’s so fucking beautiful, it’s hard to look away.
In a Facebook rant that was shared to Reddit, Susan started off by announcing with great sadness that her upcoming wedding will be cancelled, only four days out, and she will be leaving for South America for two months of ‘exploring my soul and ridding myself of toxic energy’. So don’t try calling Susan right now. She’s hugging monkeys in Guyana.
Then the rant begins in earnest.
“Before I begin this mini novel, I invite all of you (including the CUNTS who have ruined my marriage and life) to put yourselves in my shoes.”
Susan then goes on to tell her whole story. She had planned her dream ‘Kardashian’ wedding and asked all guests to pay a measly $1500 per head. She was horrified when most of them refused. So she handled everything really calmly by publicly calling them all cunts then leaving on a holiday.
So first and most obviously here, Susan is a tad unhinged. Okay, she’s flat out ba-nay-nay. She is most definitely the biggest cunt in her story full of cunt-calling.
But I kind of love her.
Don’t get me wrong, I am completely judging Susan every bit as much as you are. The actual genesis of her rage – asking everyone in her life to pay $1500 just for the privilege of attending her dream wedding, and then hating them all when they wouldn’t – is beyond ridiculous.
But she just scorched her own earth. She just threw a match at her whole life, and didn’t give a shit at what went up in flames. She is like Bruce Willis slowly walking away from an exploding truck without looking back (I don’t know what movie I’m referencing there. All of his movies? None of them? All of the ones where he’s not a ghost psychologist, at least.)
So even though I think Susan is off her rocker, the thing is, I get her. I can sit inside that level of rage with her. I’ve been that angry. In fact, I’m in awe of the bravery it would have taken for her to actually hit the share button on her outrageous rant. There is no coming back from what she wrote, no ‘oh sorry, that was just autocorrect’.
She’s out of her fucking mind… but she’s impressive. Imagine the cathartic relief she must have felt. The weight that tumbled off her shoulders as she shut her laptop and boarded the flight to Peru, ashes raining down behind her. She followed through. She set her rage free.
Female anger is finding it’s moment. Women are now starting to feel like they can speak up more about their grievances – from the big ones like equal opportunities, fair pay, domestic violence, housework expectations, to the more personal ones like wedding guests refusing to pay 1.5k for a shitty buffet dinner – women are giving themselves permission to get angry.
In the past, I’ve been called aggressive, unappealing, and scary, so I tried to ignore my anger as to make myself more palatable. But this year, with the uprise of women finally feeling safe to express their honest emotions, I’ve learned how to give myself permission to be pissed off.
Ladies, if you’re feeling like a shitstorm is brewing; I encourage you to get to know your anger. Acknowledge it, sit with it. Express it in a safe way. Wear it bravely when you feel it. But don’t bottle it up and don’t ignore it.
And probably don’t call all of your friends cunts on Facebook.