For as long as I can remember, I have been told that I do not get angry – as an activist, a friend, a lover, and as a colleague. I assure you now that this perception is simply not true. I experience anger much the same as anyone else. Events and circumstances pose threats to me and my view of the world, causing me to want to lash out and reassert a personal feeling of control. Yet the way I engage this conflict, and ultimately, resolve it, may be somewhat unfamiliar.
I was recently criticized by a close friend and colleague regarding my expression of emotion during an academic presentation that, for me (and hopefully at least a few in attendance), was highly transformational. For the 3rd Annual Student Scholars Day at Buena Vista University (April 2007), I presented a speech entitled, “Getting Off: A Case for Men Abandoning Manhood.” As the title suggests, the general message of my speech was that manhood is not a goal for which any man ought to strive. And rather than proposing that masculinity and femininity simply be “redefined” to support equality and freedom of (gendered) expression, I presented a radical feminist critique that sharply resisted gender as a system of injustice (regardless of how it might be repackaged to respond to feminist concerns). More specifically, the speech dealt with men’s exploitation of women through pornography, including a plea to men (“of conscience,” as John Stoltenberg might say) to resist the corrupt and damaging sexuality that has become dominant in American society.
In any speech about pornography, I try to make real for those in attendance what pornography is and what it does to women. Scholars Day being no exception, I spoke at length about the content of mainstream adult pornography, in addition to presenting visual examples (a method that demands tremendous caution – I hope to discuss this element further in future blog posts). Now, let me be clear. Despite how horrifying mainstream pornography is, absolutely none of the information I provided was new or shocking to me. I had spoken about pornography countless times before, addressing a variety of audiences. And my research had revealed that the “woman-hating” in pornography was not merely a fringe issue, relegated to a particular genre or subgenre. Instead, the entire industry, along with its intimate connections with prostitution and sex trafficking, is rooted in an ideology of hatred toward women (and a system that enforces such hatred). Yet, no matter how familiar I am with patriarchy’s firm grip on sexualities in our society, I can’t help but break down emotionally when speaking of such an atrocity.
Stifling sobs and brushing tears from my cheeks again and again as my presentation went on, I was embarrassed and worried that my audience had missed important messages in the speech. Perhaps they didn’t even take me seriously, given my uninvited display of emotion during a formal presentation. Regardless of reactions from audience members, I felt strangely fulfilled having expressed myself so openly. For the first time in my academic career, I felt I had allowed myself to be human as a presenter. I regret that, at least for some, my tears may have been distracting or confusing. Yet I see no reason to apologize for them, given the subject matter.
The close friend and colleague I mentioned, who has supported my feminist research on pornography for some time, was taken aback by my emotional display – not at the inclusion of emotion in a rigidly emotion-free space, but that I expressed sadness and despair, rather than anger. After all, the feminist anti-pornography movement has a long history of anger at the buying and selling of women’s bodies – and let there be no question, we have much to be angry about! I was perplexed, though, that my feelings of sadness (which I thought were entirely appropriate) were perceived as inconsistent with the message of my presentation.
For the sake of brevity, I can summarize much of my emotional experiences as an activist by pointing to my Buddhist practice, as well as my knowledge (and limited informal practice) of conflict resolution. Both emphasize, in various ways, the importance of mindfulness, including consciousness of one’s emotions. They also address what could simply be described as critical thinking, which involves thinking about one’s thinking in order to improve one’s thinking (not as complicated as it sounds, but difficult to learn). Both elements – mindfulness and critical thinking – involve a great deal of discipline and attentiveness, as well as the courage to confront egocentric and sociocentric tendencies in one’s thought. In reference to anger, both schools of thought would warn against indulging in anger in such a way that closes our hearts to reconciliation and restricts us in our abilities to think and feel.
When I think about a problem in our world, it is generally a very careful and patient process in which I set out to inform myself of the problem and its context, and then proceed to analyze what this problem means, and of course, what we can do about it. Now, keep in mind, this is not merely an intellectual process. If it were, my political practice would not be what it is. In fact, I could not, nor would I feel compelled to, call myself an activist. Being a activist, to me, demands an emotional awareness and sensitivity to “feel” the issues, rather than merely intellectualizing them. Borrowing a time-honored feminist adage, it seems that, in addition to recognizing the personal as political, we must recognize the political as personal.
Perhaps as our society is more inclined to pay attention to men when they are angry and aggressive (not to mention, ignorant, hateful, and abusive), it is difficult for people to see and get to know my emotions. As an activist, this leads my colleagues to misunderstand or simply ignore my work. In relationships, it causes all kinds of disruptions to patriarchal gender roles – I remember one particular instance in which my girlfriend actually became angry at me when I did not perform the appropriate masculine posturing (verbal abuse) when she missed one of our dates. And with the fellas, well, it makes me a complete gender outcast, which is actually pretty nice.
At any rate, I don’t pretend to know exactly how people ought to use anger in their lives. The purpose of this post is not to make suggestions for others or to criticize the ways other activists (feminist or otherwise) express themselves. I merely present my experiences in hopes that they might help others, and certainly to gain feedback. Anger is undoubtedly a natural part of everyone’s life, though the extent to which we indulge in it, as well as how we express it, may be profoundly different from person to person.
