The Feminine Urge to Feel Anger

What is anger to you?  

I would argue it is a signal, a force, a demand for change.

It is how human beings have progressed socially for really quite a long time. And when communicated - and listened to -with grace and compassion, it has the power to shift unjust dynamics, push movements towards peace, and strengthen romantic relationships, friendships, and work environments.

Yet in the past when I have felt anger, it has seemed like something that I am not meant to feel. Like I should just be ok with everything. Like, actually, I am just being a bit uptight. And often, in the back of my mind, there is an awareness: if I express this, will I be dismissed as overreacting? Overemotional? Unreasonable?

But why does it take such precision for a woman to express her anger?

Many women do this instinctively. We rebrand our anger as irritation, frustration, or sadness. And when the sharp edges of it slip through – whether in a snappy remark or a moment of impatience – it’s often met with feelings of guilt or shame.  

Even in spaces designed for women, anger is sanitised. The period-tracking app I use lets me log ‘irritation’, ‘obsessiveness’ or ‘self-critical thoughts.’ Anger is literally not an option. These subcategories of anger make it seem as though anger must be redirected inward or made smaller. But here’s what I have realised: we don’t need to make anger smaller. We just need to make it clearer.

To explain: anger is not a liability. It’s a natural human emotion. It does not need to be categorised as feminist rage or dismissed as irrational hysteria. And yet, emotions have been gendered for so long that we instinctively assign them a place on an invisible scale of social acceptability.

Dr. Raymond DiGiuseppe’s research found that while men and women experience anger in roughly the same amounts, they experience it differently. Men scored higher on physical and passive aggression and were more likely to be impulsive when feeling anger. They were also more motivated by revenge and scored higher in coercion. Women, on the other hand, were found to be angry for longer, more resentful, and less likely to express their anger outwardly. Instead, they would use indirect aggression – distancing themselves, cutting people off.  

We are not powerless in how we express our emotions. However, society still reacts differently to different social group’s anger. Some people are more easily heard than others. Some people’s anger is feared; others’ dismissed. A black woman’s anger is policed differently than a white woman’s. A wealthy man’s anger holds more weight than a working-class man’s. And no matter how precisely or skilfully someone speaks, there will always be those who refuse to listen. So, while skilful communication is a tool, and a privilege when it is heard, it is not the only solution. Perhaps the first step is about allowing ourselves to feel angry at all.

And perhaps that is what is truly uncomfortable about women embracing anger – not that we might be too emotional, but that we might stop being the emotional mediators. That we might stop smoothing things over. That we might prioritise protecting our boundaries over keeping the peace.

 I lived with five of my best girlfriends last year and whenever one of us would come home sad – maybe burst into tears on the chair in the sitting room – the rest of us would immediately gather. We knew what to do: comfort, stroke her hair, hold her through it. We know how to hold space for sadness. But anger? What’s the script for that one?

How does one support their friend when they are angry? More importantly, how do you support yourself when you feel angry? 

Anger is not inherently destructive. So, what if we tried just sitting with it? Rather than trying to intellectualise it, fix it, or distract from it. My habit has often been to immediately try to solve it, I pick it apart, searching for the root cause, as if understanding it will make it disappear. And while understanding our emotions can give us greater awareness that’s not how experiencing them works.

We don’t need to solve our feelings – we need to feel them.

At our core, as human beings on this planet, we are series of events unfolding alongside other events, absorbing the world around us. Our brains respond instinctively – processing, reacting, feeling. Anger is just one part of that machinery, as natural as any other emotion. Yet, we live in a world full of distractions, often distracting us from our inner realities. We can go buy a new pair of kitten heels, scroll on our phones, eat granola out of our favourite bowl – layering distractions upon distractions to avoid sitting with what we truly feel.

But the least confusing thing we can do is simply be in our emotions. To sit with them, however uncomfortable they may be. If we just focus on that one moment of reality in front of us at that very second, all of a sudden it becomes a little more bearable. A little less loud. All of a sudden, the anger has air to breathe.

And then – what do we do with it?

Because for some, feeling anger is not the problem. The problem is that it has nowhere to go. No one will listen. No amount of careful communication will change the fact that certain voices are dismissed before they even begin speaking. And if that’s the case, then what? Then we find other ways to use it.

If anger cannot be spoken, it can be written. If it cannot be heard, it can be turned into movement, into action. If it is not safe to express outwardly, it can be used to strengthen something inwardly. If it is met with dismissal, we can find the spaces where it is understood—because they do exist. Maybe it is about creating something with it—art, words, or a new boundary. Maybe it is channelling it into something physical, or simply just accepting it.

I’m still learning this. I have even caught myself trying to perfect how I process anger, as if there is a right way to feel it.

But the first step isn’t mastering it—it’s simply allowing it to exist. And after that, deciding where to let it take us.