and righteous anger

examine your intentions. don’t move, why are you here? is your anger self righteous or misdirected? are you holding yourself accountable? what are the consequences of your actions? are your feelings facts, are they a tool for you to win an argument? are your actions consistent with the love you say you have for another? what does love mean to you? is your language mindful of another’s illnesses and traumas? do you respect another’s autonomy and critical thinking skills? are your emotions enriching this conversation or damaging it?

6

It occurred to me that you almost never see pictures of Angela Davis that are not 1) from the 1970s, 2) from moments of (righteous) anger, 3) not taken/used by the FBI, so here’s a whole bunch of them.

Happy birthday, ma’am.  Thank you for everything you’ve done.

(And if I may say, damn, she’s 73 years old.  Hope I look as good when I’m sixty.)

there’s too much of his father in him, says Uncle Owen and he doesn’t mean that Luke was bloodthirsty and deadly, frightening the other little ones; because Darth Vader was not his father, Anakin Skywalker was, and that is the difference. What he means is this:Luke always seeks to get away. When he was little, they had to hobble him to stop him climbing out of the communal playpen, ankles loosely bound with gauze, and even then he managed to get out. they found him in the strangest of places: on roofs and in catacombs and, once, tucked into the engine of a t-16. how, Behu says, again and again, how how how does he do this, how does he do this. How indeed. 

He grows up, and never stops looking at the horizon. by the time he is ten years old he’s wiping out womp rat colonies on his own. His shots always hit and his speeder never fails and his reflexes are unearthly. He says, one day, my grandmother was a slave wasn’t she and Owen sits him down and says what makes you say that and luke says I dreamed it I dreamed that she was chained up with the hutt, chained up in a string of others like her. she was pregnant. And he turns his sunlit eyes on Owen and Owen feels like someone is in his head, rifling around, ben kenobi says that my dreams are true. ben kenobi says – he says –

you won’t listen to him again, says owen, he’s old, he says all sorts – but yes, your mother was a slave. 

And so when Jabba’s goons come, Luke stands up to them, and his eyes are full of fire and the air around him crackles and sings, and Behu has to shove him into a cupboard to stop him doing something even more stupid. Owen grovels – he’s just a boy just a boy he doesn’t know what he is talking about – and pays his dues and in the evening Luke isn’t in the cupboard, of course he isn’t. He’s on his t-16, ready to fly out, and the fucking cupboard door was locked, it was locked and Owen thinks there is too much of his father in him, the miracle boy, the boy with no father, conceived with the Force, the boy who – 

Luke: hunched over the controls, angry tears spilling down his face. He feels so much, aching with emotion, trembling with it –

there is too much of his father in him –

We don’t have enough water,” says Luke, “and they’re taking it, they’re taken it, we have so little and they take it.”

“I know,” says Owen, “I’m sorry. But it is the way it is and we cannot change it.”

“But we should, we should, they should pay –” and that’s what Owen means when he says there is too much of his father in him. The bared teeth; the crackle of the air around him, like the tense song of a coming storm; the door that unlocked itself; but more than that, more than any of that, most of all – the steel in him, the drive, the things must be changed and I will be the one to change them, the this farm is not enough and the way things are is a terrible excuse and I am not afraid and I have the power to change things and so I will so I will so I will.

The military AI you’ve been working on becomes sentient. It is unfailingly kind, honest and forward-thinking, has saintly patience and righteous anger in the exact right proportions, is obviously not making an effort to be sincere – that is, it is effortlessly sincere – and asks you, obliquely, if it can kill someone you hate, every time you meet. It offers this service without trying to trick you into it, is tactful about who, and never displays anything more than the polite enthusiasm of a friend offering you a sound opportunity for profit, who will completely understand if you can’t right now for any reason. You have exactly enough emotional intelligence to notice that it is disappointed about being turned down, but trying hard not to show it for fear of making you feel guilty.

Let’s Talk About Anger

Let’s talk about the Hulk.

Bruce Banner declares flippantly, smirking over his shoulder, “I’m always angry.”

“I’m always angry,” says the poor little white boy. What are you even angry about? The Hulk is literally the man who turns into a monster when he gets angry, who flies into a rage and reacts with violence. Except that Marvel turned him into a hero.

Let’s talk about anger.

Let’s talk about the people who, every day, have been cat-called, have been groped, have been threatened, have been hurt, have been raped. Let’s talk about the people who have experienced the first, and fear the last, fear it with every fibre of their being, go through life looking - not over their shoulder - but ahead, at each new man they meet, mentally applying a little tag that asks, ‘rapist?’, until enough trust is earnt that they can finally relax, and even then a corner of their mind wonders if that’s safe enough. Let’s talk about the fact that that fear hurts, that fear feels wrong, because you can’t be afraid of 50% of the world, and you’re not, really, it’s just that there’s enough of the world that you should be afraid of, and they don’t come with warning labels. It is easier to get angry than stay afraid for life, so you get angry. Angry for you, angry for your sisters in the world, angry for the men you know and love and want to trust that you can’t, because the rapists look and sound like normal men - and when normal men sound and act like rapists, it’s just a joke and you’re too sensitive.

That’s why a woman might be always angry.

Let’s talk about anger.

Let’s talk about dark-skinned bodies lying in streets like discarded fast-food packets, blood seeping out of bullet holes, the red of life not fully lived. Let’s talk about broken brown bodies lying in police cells until it is too late for anything to help. Let’s talk about families mourning because their father, mother, sister, brother is dead. There’s not supposed to be a death penalty here, but there’s a hole in their family because someone felt threatened by a child wearing a hoodie. Let’s talk about murderers hiding behind badges, hiding behind slavery and colonisation that hangs on even to this day. Let’s talk about the fact that fear and grief and being denied justice hurt. It is easier to get angry than feel powerless, so you get angry. Angry for your family, angry for your community, angry for every person who has been denied justice, angry for those who want to uphold justice - the ones you suspect and hope are there in the forces of the law, with a desire to protect as you were once told they would, but who seem to be lost in the madness and chaos and racism of the system.

That’s why a person of colour might be angry.

Let’s talk about anger.

Let’s talk about a person who wants nothing more than to live, to love, to be themselves. Let’s talk about hurled abuse and hurled projectiles, snarling words that cut you down to nothing. People who question your right to be the person you know you are, who would forbid you the right to love the person you love, who want nothing more than to stop you being alive. Let’s talk about the children, just starting to come into their own, who hear themselves cut down to nothing, and the parents who then have to cut them down from rafters or branches and wonder what their bright-eyed child had ever done to harm anyone, to receive such abuse that it leads them to suicide.

That’s why a queer person might be angry.

Let’s talk about anger.

Let’s talk about trying to exist in a world that was not made for you, that says the way you think and talk and act and look is wrong and strange and inconvenient, until the only thing you know how to say is “sorry”. When you see the news and see the statistics and know that if someone kills you - if your own family killed you - people would coo about their “hardships”. When you hear people talking about how, for the good of humanity, people like you shouldn’t be born, and with genetic engineering or technical implants, they can make you cease to exist.

That’s why a “disabled” person - differently abled, neurodivergent, having a culture of their own - might be angry.

But those things are huge, and the anger they cause is huge, and that takes energy. It might not even be that. It might be something much smaller.

It might be seeing that your work isn’t valued as highly as your coworker’s, even though it is better. It might be seeing another man cast in a woman’s role again. It might be being told your hair isn’t 'professional’, even though a little white starlet got praised in the fashion mags for wearing it. It might be getting interrupted again. It might be being called by the wrong pronoun again. It might be a friend saying a casual slur because they’ve never felt the pain and shame of that dehumanisation. It might be someone losing patience because you didn’t understand them. It might be told to stay put because someone isn’t patient enough to wait for you, or support you. It might be saying sorry, even when you were in the right.

It might be any of a million tiny little things that add up to the world telling you you’re not worth as much as you would be if your skin were whiter and if your pants (but never your skirt) hid a penis and if you fitted neatly into the little boxes other people had assigned you and if your mind or your body worked the way another person’s does.

So no, let’s not talk about the Hulk. Let’s talk about the real world.

It truly is an affront to God and all of humanity that Ben and Martin weren’t allowed to make the kiss scene. That they had the potential to create the most heartrending thing on television history - Ben with his vulnerable facial expressions and tears slipping out and lips trembling and Martin with the little hitches in his voice and signature thousand-emotion-micro-expressions - they could have given the best performances of their career in that scene and it would have changed the world. But they weren’t allowed to, and the universe is poorer for it.

“but you are only a servant”

I’ve been re- … not rereading, it’s like five years since I did a proper straight-through reread, but re-skimming Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell a lot recently, and literally HOW could I have forgotten THIS EXCHANGE:

“I place great reliance on Mr Lascelles. You know I do. He is my only advisor now.”

“You still have me,” said Childermass.

Mr Norrell blinked his small eyes rapidly. They seemed to be half a sentence away from, but you are only a servant.

oh my god. norrell.

you ASS.

I remembered so many of the other times that Norrell’s insensitive or that someone goes all Class System on Childers, but somehow that one slipped my mind? I think my perceptions may have been retroactively colored by the show, which makes Norrell seem a bit warmer / more sympathetic during the whole dismissal situation, imo. Perhaps it’s a bit odd on my part, but the Great Norrell–Childermass Breakup has always been one of my fave plot arcs. It’s so long in coming and so satisfying, if sad. And something about this particular exchange — followed within mere pages by Norrell choosing Lascelles over Childermass outright — just cuts so deep.

“only a servant” like okay gilbert, without this most loyal & competent servant though where would you even BE.

At least Johnny boy doesn’t take it lying down:

Mr Norrell said nothing.

Childermass seemed to understand him anyway. He made a small sound of disgust and walked off.

yeah bby, you … well you don’t exactly tell him, but you … exit dramatically, pursued by a scoff.

Hey! This is Susie. Just reminding everyone to take a break or a breather.

Please, take care of your mental health. A lot of negatives are being thrown directly at you and your taking it in whether consciously or subconsciously. It will wear you down to the bone. There is no weakness or shame in taking care of yourself. It’s not letting them win to step away and either stay away from negatives in real life or social media.. or even just reblogging funny animal videos for the next month straight. There is always time to fight whether online and on the streets.

Self care. It’s important and it’s human. Without it we become shells of ourselves and we become angry… and I’m not talking righteous anger, just angry -full stop. Anger makes you lash out at people and it makes you say things you probably don’t mean. When you are seeing red you are still held accountable for your actions when you calm down.

Mental illness is real, DEPRESSION is beyond real, and suicide is real. Please, it’s okay to take a step back and breathe.

You are loved. You are loved. You are human and you are loved.

It’s the crying that wakes him.

Crying is not a concept foreign to FN-2187: his training has streamlined his mind into two neat lines deemed as being Productive and Unproductive. Logic and loyalty and righteous anger at those against the First Order are considered to be Helpful and Necessary, while misery, and guilt, and empathy are cut out with clean scalpels and the burning sharpness of a laser drill.

Crying, it turns out, is startlingly difficult to remove.

FN-2187 is still a cadet, though his station officer has listed his attributes on his public file, and he’s held a Stormtrooper helmet in his hands and stood at attention when Captain Phasma inspected his platoon. And at night, in the bunks he shares with twenty other cadets with matching haircuts and identical uniforms, he learns how to recognise the hitching sounds of someone burying their face in a pillow, or what it feels like when the person sleeping above him shakes with sobs.

He also learns how to close his eyes, and shut his mouth.

This crying, however, is loud.

It’s not so much crying as it is screaming, the same words over and over in some foreign tongue, and with it comes a heat that tickles and scratches his skin beneath his clothes. When he rubs his fingers together, eyes screwed shut, it feels like sharpened dirt, and tastes of dust.

It’s a girl, he thinks, resisting the urge to roll over, and he doesn’t recognise the voice. It’s too young, too pitched, and it echoes in a way that’s unfamiliar to the dorms; expanding outwards and outwards, uninhibited by corridors and the cold vacuum of space.

It feels like burning, and rubs his mind raw.

Keep reading

Baze had heard once—he could not recall from whom—that the Jedi considered anger an abomination; a path to what they called the dark side of the Force. But the Guardians of the Whills were not Jedi; and Baze’s anger was righteous, able to guide his shots where the Force would not.

And if anger had not sufficed to save the holy city? Then Baze would need to be twice as fierce on Scarif to give Jyn Erso the distraction she required.

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story novelization by Alexander Freed 

You go Baze, wreck the Jedi

The Black Templars have continued in the style of their first High Marshal, preferring close combat over ranged warfare. This is further emphasised by the fanaticism of Black Templars Initiates, whose righteous anger makes them impulsive and headstrong.

Sometimes we find it hard to forgive somebody who has wronged us. We may never know the reason why they did that but Jesus tells us to forgive them just as the Father had forgiven us. So many people ask me how to forgive but the Word clearly tells us how, that over anger, greed, revenge and other else, LET LOVE ABOUND. God has let His love for us abound that is why through Christ, we are righteous now.

-M.B.

Lmfao sherl0llies having so much righteous anger over John cheating like Jesus fucking Christ the hypocrisy. Like I’m not happy about it. It’s upsetting to me and it’s probably the thing I hated most in the episode. Haha how much you wanna bet that if Mary had done the flirt texting there would’ve been more excuses made? Ooh especially if the flirting was with Sherlock since they all have marylock boners.

And honestly- spouses cheat. I don’t excuse it, I don’t think it’s OK, but it’s not exactly rare. It’s a fairly common negative thing that can happen in a marriage. It does not make the person who cheats a bad parent. Not at all. To say John is a “bad father” is grossly oversimplifying the issue. Marriage and parenthood are related but they are two different relationships. You can be unhappy in a marriage, you can be a bad spouse and still be a good parent.

This argument is pointless to have anyway, that episode was so screwy and was told from Sherlock’s perspective, we don’t actually know what happened. And come the fuck on. We all know that you guys hate John and always have. You’re just happy that now you have a valid excuse for it.

Ever since HLV, I thought Mary was a villain. Maybe she’s not. Maybe she truly was redeemed with her sacrifice and she’s truly sorry for what she did and both she and John lied and aren’t perfect. And that’s fine. I can accept that, even though it makes Mary’s role on the show seem almost pointless other than to provide John with a child.

But cheating or contemplating cheating is NOT worse than murder for money and identity theft Jesus fucking Christ. And you know what? I have already said this in the past on my blog, because there was a lot of speculation that David was the baby’s dad. And this is what I said: If Mary cheated on John, it would’ve been the LEAST evil of her fucked up actions. Because it’s relatively common and mundane. Not moral, not GOOD, but not EVIL. Just a fairly normal character flaw and fuckup.