I’m Angry

I’m angry.

For years, I wasn’t. And the times that I witnessed injustice or some other blood-boiling incident, I took Gandhi’s directive to heart. I was the change. Or so I thought.

My weapons were love, compassion, integrity.

And silence. You know, because I chose to live by example…quietly.

Except that no one noticed.

When you’re quiet, you are effectively accepting things how they are, at least in the eyes of the rest of the world.

Yoga and Alanon taught me to accept what is with serenity, and the Law of Attraction taught me to focus on only having positive feelings. To be angry was to be destructive.

Which in a way makes sense. Anger is a mask for fear. And living from a place of fear is no way to live.

So for years, I meditated on compassion and forgiveness and love. People who harmed me were forgiven instantly – I was never angry at them, in fact, I understood them, empathized with them.

And aside from a brief lapse during the 2016 election, I avoided sharing my opinions on social media. It was important for me to not get ego-identified with, well, anything.

But perhaps I misunderstood Gandhi’s directive.

He wasn’t silent. He just operated from a place of love.

He understood anger.

He used it to fuel his mission. And yet he still loved. Deeply.

But – and this is key – he didn’t alienate. And, if he were still with us, he wouldn’t be slinging mud or engaging in name-calling. Neither would the other great visionaries – like MLK and Jesus – who were incredibly effective.

I’m still trying to understand what this means for me and how I conduct myself in the world.

But, I have a platform – this blog.

And I’m angry.

I’m angry that women are being silenced because the truth is inconvenient for some men.

I’m angry that sexual predators are being treated as victims.

I’m angry that the national campaign coordinator of a large environmental organization raped me in 1999 and that the two men I confided in about it told me to keep quiet, lest his reputation would be harmed.

And, I’m angry that I kept quiet.

I’m angry that I was too worried about how I would be attacked for what I was wearing or doing or what I should have expected to have happened to report it, even if those two men hadn’t told me to stay quiet.

I’m angry that I wasn’t the only woman he assaulted.

I’m angry that we elected a president after hearing him brag about sexually assaulting women.

I’m angry that the GOP is standing behind a sexual predator’s nomination for SCOTUS.

I’m angry about a lot of things, but I’m going to stop here.

And what am I going to do with this anger?

I’m going publicly stand in solidarity with victims. #metoo

I’m going to share their stories. I’ve failed to do this in any meaningful way.

I’m going to blog.

And I’m going to continue to live my life as an expression of love.


Free spirit. Seeker of truth. Lover of all. Embracer of uncertainty. Taker of no shit.


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