For My Anger

I wrote this for my anger. Because I feel my anger is valid and shouldn’t have so many rules around when and how it’s convenient for me to be openly angry. (And with that, comes this trigger warning)

I am so deeply exhausted with men. I’m tired of being angry with them. I’m tired of the arguments. The same ones over and over. Making clear boundaries that are repeatedly disregarded. The entitlement. The demand for being excused as exception.

Maybe this wouldn’t be the case if I wasn’t a massage therapist who is open to the public...or if I wasn’t a massage therapist who accepts men as clients. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so many years of anger boiling within if I had some sort of bubble around me in my teens and early twenties that kept me separated from the dumb guys I chose to spend time around in college.

Or maybe the answer has nothing to do with ME and everything to do with MEN. Men can do. so. much. better. It is entirely possible to live in a world where men have a deep and unwavering respect for women. All women.

It is entirely possible to live in a world where  part of the prep of my work day doesn’t involve: an escape plan, THICK physical/mental/energetic barrier building, someone to call when I get assaulted, and making sure as much of my skin is covered as possible.

To live in a world where I never have to have a session with a male client who plays with my boundaries. Throwing off sheets to lay naked and exposed in my work space. Attempting to taunt with me with money to go higher and even higher on his upper inner thighs. Arguing that he “should” be able to express himself however he feels fit, even if that involves his penis. Grabbing my thigh or my arm and exclaiming he did so because he thought we could extend the session to something more. And then cry and whine about it when the answer is a firm “no and get out of my office”.

It is entirely possible to live in a world where I walk down the street without planning my outfit to keep the catcalls and harassment down. The clothes do not matter. The yells, grabs, and unnecessary following for blocks happen regardless.

It is entirely possible to live in a world where I can come home from my day out in the busy-ness of the world without feeling I need to have an angry cry and punch the shit out of my bed to release all this helpless anger from my body. It is POSSIBLE.

Although this isn’t my every day lived experience, it’s not uncommon. It’s uncommon enough to have me questioning leaving my current career as a massage therapist because I wonder if this job will break me. It has me dreaming about the day I exclusively work with women. And what a beautiful day that will be.

I don’t write this for pity or to hear all the lovely people in my life tell me I’m sorry. I write this because I believe anger needs more spaces where it is honored. I wrote this for me. But I cut back on some of the anger when I thought I might share this on the internet. I dulled my anger because I’ve been conditioned to wonder if my anger is welcome out in the world. I think a lot of people feel that way.

And while I feel this anger and have to deal with how it lives in my body every day, I can’t help but wonder what it feels like to add more layers to that. To be in this world as a person of color. To be a woman AND a person of color. To be disabled. To be trans or gender non-conforming. 

I feel this anger inside me and sometimes wonder what the fuck I’m suppose to do with it while continuing to be the best person I can be. Humans: we can be angry. We can be angry and do SO much better.