Anger is seen as inherently negative in "polite society" or anger is uncivilized and unseemly.
My grandfather was one of my most steady male role models growing up, he was a stoic, stern, and humorously sarcastic man. He was a Judo teacher, an Autobody Mechanic, a Bodybuilder, and generally had all the hallmarks of the classic mans man. He was also a Japanese Canadian, a group that had been systemically targeted, and emasculated by white supremacy in government.
I asked him if he was angry during the war, being uprooted, dispossesed, and relocated to hard labour farms in Alberta. He admitted being angry, and that he carried that anger into adulthood, but that he saw it as a tool, something to be used, channeled and controlled by him. Instead of losing control to it he saw it as a source of energy, or fuel for otherwise difficult work, which must have come in handy as a 12 year old forced labourer.
I choose to use my anger as he did, it helps me stay motivated to fight back personally and as an advocate against injustice. I had to learn this through years of conflict, both within and without, but like him, it got me through the toughest times, for me it was group homes, and the outrage at being treated as a prisoner rather than getting help for trauma. I remember his words when I find my blood boiling and the white hot rage threatens my freedom, my credibility, my control and my empathy. I use that heat, control the burn, direct it. It makes steel of unformed iron in my will.
I am still learning, will always be learning, and my anger is still there, coiled around the most sensitive areas of my being, it is a sleeping dragon, a protector, a tool. Let it be that for the rest of my days...
