10/08/2026
For most of my life, I didn't recognize my own anger.
When something happened that never should have, I had two places to put it. "Boys will be boys." "That's just how men are." Everything else went under "what was wrong with me."
It took years to see it clearly. I am not the common denominator. The common denominator is a culture of sexism, misogyny, and excused entitlement. It's the same culture that excuses racism. And it's the culture we all live in.
That's when the anger rose to the surface and turned into sacred rage.
Many of us were raised to be good girls. Don't make a scene. Don't burden others with your troubles. Handle it yourself. We learned which kinds of anger were acceptable, and for whom, so we let ours come out as something softer: tears when we were furious, over-explaining, silence, or self-blame. Tears can carry grief and anger at the same time. The conditioning is when they have to stand in for the anger we weren't allowed to feel. These are conditioned responses, not personal failings.
That culture wants us silent, and so do those who have bought into it. Silence lets it keep control, so it never has to look at itself and change.
Anger points to an injustice: a line crossed, accountability dodged, or harm explained away instead of repaired.
Your rage doesn't need vengeance; it can fuel justice. Let it move you to learn more, reach out, ask for help, check on each other, rest, and remember your worth. Speaking up can start with one trusted person, and there's no one right way to do it.
Be willing to disrupt the status quo, even if it means being disliked. When you name what's true, the people who benefit from your silence may not like it. That doesn't mean you're wrong. Trust yourself. Know yourself.
What has your anger been trying to show you?
Let your sacred rage be your guide to justice.
