Back then, I had no answer. My aunt was both vicious and curiously vulnerable, but why a man should glare at her I'd no idea. Indeed, as a child I was taught there was no such thing as rage. You're not angry, my family would tell me, when I clearly was, and then they'd quote religious books until I went cold. It was the same with sex. I was told that, for women, sexual passion didn't exist unless you were disreputable. I grew frightened of sex and anger, and yet I sensed I held them within me. As Jung reminds us, what's inside us will out - and far more strongly when it's been repressed.
Truth is, people get angry when they feel passion. Rage can be territorial, powerful, defensive. It is blazingly honest - a courageous emotion. Like hunger and sex, anger is carnal - and as with most animal drives, it's related to possession and survival. No wonder make-up sex is so damn hot!
One thing I know. I am wary of anyone who claims they never get angry. It's like saying, I never get hungry. So what, you never feel threatened? You never want to possess? You don't ever feel like defending yourself against life's unfairness? And if you're not angry for yourself, then please be so for others. The man on the street with nothing to wear. The waste of war. Starvation.
As you can see, I'm stirred by rage - I find it intensely beautiful. I love reading erotica that involves a carnal anger, especially when it's righteous and startlingly direct. Maybe that's why I enjoy film noir. You know what I mean. The hardboiled hero grasps his femme by the shoulders, shakes her, makes her gasp and collapse just a little; then he slams her to the wall and devours her, mouth-to-mouth. In spite of the fact it's an obvious aesthetic (real life, we note, ain't like this!) I find noir not only sexy but also liberating.
As for the man who was glaring at me today, I can't say he bothered me at all.
