On Anger and Other Things Women Don't Do

How does one express anger?

That’s not a fair question.

You don’t.

Not as a woman. Especially when that woman is trans. Or black. Or many others scrutinized more than other groups of women.

But it is a universal experience for women. Feeling this human emotion and always having to focus on how to strategically let it out.

Like a fart.

It must be done discretely, preferably away from anyone else, and with shame. It’s rare to be in a group that will tolerate, let alone be positive, about a big, public fart.

Those moments and those groups are treasured. That’s a great indication of how comfortable you are and how safe you feel the others to be.

I used to fart alongside women. I remember that camaraderie among girls and gals. Living as a woman after transition, I’ve compulsively shuffled away to be human in private, or hold it in until I’m bubbling.

Need to be ladylike.

And we need to stop talking about farts for a bit. I actually tend to be quite dainty. I made myself uncomfortable here. Sorry to anyone else I dragged into this hole with me.

So the anger. The bubbling anger.

It can get hard to smile because it might be the movement that pushes things over the edge and now everyone has a sour face and we know who did it.

I’m figuring it out now though.

Of course things aren’t going to be like before. Can’t be doing the same things around the same people while wearing different labels and expect the same result, no matter how illogical it can seem not to.

And time kept moving while my identity was moving. We all tend to be more serious and focused at this age. High expectations in a way that says we are still kids in many ways, and always will be, but are properly stepping into adulthood with real responsibilities and people affected by us. So a little bit of forced control until we figure it out and it becomes more natural.

Acknowledging that, finding community with people that fit my labels more seems to be what matters most in finding places to express all things deemed “not lady-like”.

That depends on believing I belong first.

I have always felt out of place with much of the queer scene. Specifically the dynamics that mirror straight culture’s worst impulses. We often see each other as threats. My military background and willingness to physically step in front of someone being aggressive get the reaction that the many unaddressed thrown bar glasses I have observed in queer bars deserve.

But there are many good people and spaces where I don’t relate with that at all.

Where I remember the time I lightly threw a straw wrapper against the table and it bounced to tap a woman’s hand and she recoiled in horror. The healthy reaction. It sticks out to me as an unacceptable outburst that I needed to take time to deal with.

The peaceful and often sweet, often queer, people who never forced me to bottle things up and don’t live in a world where it’s normal to let things reach a point where you pop the cork. The people who aren’t poking, prodding, and judging me and my actions.

I shouldn’t refer to mainstream queer spaces so critically either. We both have genuine reasons to be uncomfortable in each other’s presence. They’re not wrong to find my vigilance off-putting. I’m not wrong that some of what gets normalized would be unacceptable if named out loud. But I can’t hold civilian spaces to military standards, and I can’t address every stray hand or overly firm grip when others see it as normal socializing.

So now that this is figured out, what’s the problem?

The world isn’t like them. My life still requires constant exposure to the very unhealthy public who often treats me very unfairly. I walk in the door with hunched shoulders and the energy of “I just had to navigate multiple intense situations, each requiring a different emotion/approach.”

My face became scrunched. My brow bone more pronounced. Tension written into bone structure from holding it all in.

So I’m working on that.

Two big things are moving to a more wholesome AND educated neighborhood while working on getting my Thai license finally so I can drive my own car. These things are big investments.

I would prefer to put my money elsewhere. Removing myself from the two areas where the worst offenders are getting access to me will make a big difference. My face changed when I was on a long vacation; the muscles finally released.

The only thing that matters though is community. I found healthy community and now I’m working on making myself someone who won’t change that by becoming a part of it. From the internal changes to the external ones.

Because we all have bad days and yeah, I haven’t actually repeatedly farted after a bad meal in a room full of women and laughed about it together since I tipped past looking androgynous to feminine. That, let alone being able to express anger in a way that feels natural. Both have bubbled past my point of control at times since I haven’t felt able to release even a bit.

And I believe the typical person off the street would say that I am overreacting about the straw wrapper. I prefer to live in my world where it is a very loud and violent action that demands reflection and change.

That’s the world where I want to be.