Dear Raging Heart,
We don’t talk much. I’ve been afraid of what you might say. What you might do. What it might mean to unleash your fury on the world. The sheer force of your scalding rage, your determined ire, unnerves me, upends me, terrifies me.
But I’ve done you a disservice, Raging Heart. To deny you your righteous anger after a vile slew of persistent injustice is to deny you air to breathe. And now you’re sprinting at an unsustainable rhythm.
You’ve been silenced too long.
You’ve been told to compromise too long.
You’ve been told it will get better with it only ever getting worse.
You’ve been told you aren’t allowed to express yourself because you are ugly and unbecoming out of the lipsticked mouth of a woman. (As if emotion is gendered, served only to look nice).
You’ve been fed lies.
Just as a coiled snake bides its time, you have been poised to pounce. Now is the time.
I will no longer hold you back. I will no longer deny you as a real and true path to action. I will no longer allow my fear of your strength to intimidate me. There are so many things scarier than setting you free.
Things like dark parking lots, secluded stairwells, slow elevators, empty streets.
Like the entitled and powerful who believe they have the right to hurt, violate, assault, discard.
Like the bro code.
Like caged children.
Like the riotous laughter of heartless men.
Like the necrotic evil that lurks in the souls of the complicit, the willfully ignorant, the spineless.
Like tyranny. Oppression. Erasure.
Your gasping, clawing, rattling the cage of our whole heart has worked. There are chambers for sadness, for big, grateful love, furrowed worry, and swelling hope. But you are the one who will motivate change. You’re the one destined to energize. To inspire and embolden and empower.
You, Raging Heart, are the one who will change this world. Not with ill will, not with violence, not with malice. But with your stalwart energy, with your rampaging strength, with your ceaseless dedication to liberty and justice for all.
Instead of cowering in fear of your blaze, I choose to dance to the rhythm of your pulsing pain, your faithful beat, your sacred howl:
I’m no longer scared of you. But they probably should be.