Just when I thought I was done. Just when I thought I’d moved on, feeling powerful and independent, having done “the work,” this person steps back into my life. Just before the new year, as I’m preparing to lead my first ever Rosh Hashanah service. As informal as it is, it’s mine. Finally. I’m in a good place. 

And suddenly I’m not. The worst timing. 

At first it feels like a benign message. But I’ve done enough work that, this time, I see the flashing lights. Warning warning warning! 

When I don’t respond as expected, from my old, sweet, scared self, but rather from a place of centeredness and self-assurance, they lunge for the attack: a long, screaming text dripping with condescension, arrogance. They are the victim. Again.

I’m thrown off. Confused. My fear comes back. My self-doubt. I’m on the defensive again.

I guess I have more work to do.

It’s actually perfect timing. Just in time for Rosh Hashanah! 

I get through the holiday successfully, pushing it away. Then I get a migraine. And I realize it’s suppressed rage. And finally I see the connection between this person and the voices of my childhood. Voices that said, “If you just said it in a way that I could hear it...” And, “Such and such would have shown more good will.” 

Same voice, different vehicle. 

Old rage, new stage. 

Because here’s the thing: I tried so many times to “say it in a way they could hear it,” and I showed incredible amounts of good will, well beyond what they deserved. Why was I surprised? Again? What indication had there been that they’d done “the work”?

And why had I taken it? Because I’m trained to take it. I’m a woman. I must be kind and gracious and patient. Even if I’m raging on the inside.

But here’s another thing that took so much work to learn: It’s not my responsibility to say it in a way they can hear it. Let me say that again: It’s not my responsibility.

And the phrase that kept coming up was: “Do the work. Just do the damn work. I’ve done mine.” 

Old rage, new stage. 

As part of my own work, questions came to me: 

Do I need to let my rage loose toward this one person? 

Would it be satisfying? 

Would it release it once and for all? 

Or would I just end up with the same old frustration?

Just as I was pondering these questions, I heard the verdict on Breonna Taylor’s case. 

It brought further questions that went deeper still, beyond me personally: 

What happens when you literally can’t express the rage you feel toward your perpetrator?

What if they’re dead or inaccessible? 

Worse, what if it’s not just one person? 

Worser still: What if it’s an entire system?!

Herein lay my answer; for generations upon generations, Black people have been asked---no, expected and forced---to repress rage---to show “good will” and act “properly,” which means act humbly, tamping down the rage screaming to be released. In other words, add to your rage by living in fear and on the defensive. Always.

I know this is going to sound funny, but just as I was sharing these ideas with a friend, I segued suddenly to my hair. I was standing in front of the mirror snipping away at stray hairs that seem to be flying in my face constantly these days. No matter how much I snip snip snip, there seem to be more. Hairs that refuse to conform to the curls on the rest of my head ever since I began recovering from Coronavirus. They felt symbolic of the out-of-control feeling we are all experiencing right now. They seemed rageful. 

There was a horrible presidential debate the other day. It’s easy to focus our attention and rage on the lies, attacks, viciousness and the endless analyses of the debates from which we learn absolutely nothing new. They are a distraction, like the stray hairs on my head. Those trying desperately to hold on to power want to dangle them in front of our faces, making us crazy as we keep snipping away at each one, as if revealing each lie will save us. 

The rage itself can be a good thing. It’s an indicator that something needs to change. 

Not only that---sometimes it’s actually the rage that gives us the power and strength to act in ways that we would otherwise not be able to. 

But rage needs to be focused in a way that brings about the change needed. We need to find productive avenues to channel it. Living in fear and on the defensive is not productive. 

Overall, I still have a good head of hair, though I lost a lot due to Coronavirus. 

And overall, We The People actually have the power. 

This is a powerful and crucial time. We need to use it wisely. We have work to do. Part of it is inner work, and this will guide and inform the outer work. Awareness is a very powerful thing. It helps us focus.

Let’s all commit to “doing the work” in the coming months, and channel our rage in productive ways. 

New Year, new page; old rage, new stage.