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Much has been made of female rage in the past few years. From Soraya Chemaly’s Rage Becomes Her to Brittney Cooper’s Eloquent Rage to Rebecca Traister’s Good and Mad, it is as if we’ve finally been given permission to let loose the years of fury and resentment that have been building up inside of us, encasing our hearts in a bitter blackness, making our chests burn.
For so long, women have been socialized to be pleasant. To be gracious and amenable. To cater to the needs of others at the expense of our own.
But now, perhaps thanks to campaigns like the #MeToo movement, we are being invited to clench our fists. To scream our throats raw. To splay ourselves open and show the world our blackened hearts. We are told that in doing so, we will make the world a better place.
Without actual systemic change, however (and despite the benefits of speaking up and…