“You should be angry. You must not be bitter. Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. It doesn’t do anything to the object of its displeasure. So use that anger, yes. You write it. You paint it. You dance it. You march it. You vote it.” – Maya Angelou

I’ll admit that sometimes I get angry living in community. I get angry with individual people. I get angry with groups, committees, or organizations. I get angry with the systems or processes which govern our life. I get angry with abstract concepts, values, or ideologies I don’t agree with. Sometimes I get angry with myself. Sometimes my anger is justified, sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes I express my anger in productive, positive ways that I’m proud of, sometimes I express my anger in imperfect ways that unintentionally cause harm. But one thing I’ve learned in my time here is that anger can be healthy, and that acknowledging it can be a powerful step towards finding paths that benefit the whole group.

When I first moved to Dancing Rabbit in 2021, I didn’t think I felt anger. I can remember announcing my blankness towards this emotion at Women’s Circle and having a few members laugh and say: Sure you don’t. To which I internally retorted: No, I really don’t! In some ways this was true. If faced with a conflict or negative interaction I seemed to have an almost superhuman ability to skip the fight response and jump straight to flight, freeze, or appease, with a strong emphasis on the latter. Some might call it doormat syndrome. I was afraid of anger in others and would lean on the tend-and-befriend approach to sooth and subvert any situation which felt threatening to me. I rarely stood my ground. I was also afraid of anger in myself and had spent so many years suppressing it that it was largely gone from my consciousness. Little did I know that somewhere inside me, like a deep, pure, underground lake, was my anger. It was just filtering up through so many layers of debris that by the time it reached the surface it was an unrecognizable sludge of resentment and pride. Little did I know that this detachment was costing me my access to a wellspring of strength, authenticity, and clarity that could actually strengthen my connections to others rather than destroy them.

Today, I know I can feel anger, and I think the ability to get angry in a healthy way is one of the most important parts of living in community happily. I have learned to see healthy anger as a teacher, protector, and guide. It shows me what my values are, where I have boundaries, what situations in my life need to shift, and when I need to speak up. It gives me the ability to be honest with myself and say: I didn’t like that, rather than downplaying my needs or suppressing my discomfort to avoid rocking the boat.

To me, healthy anger burns clean like a fire. It is a pure expression of emotion. It is an energetic state that we can use to catalyze positive change in ourselves, in our lives, in the world. When I feel this kind of anger, it puts itself out after being fully felt, leaving behind a coal of wisdom. This kind of anger clarifies something within myself. It does not try to control the existence of another, put me on a pedestal above someone, or make me the sole arbiter of a story I can see only one part of. It is when the additives of judgment and ego enter the mix that healthy anger can ferment into bitterness. Healthy anger flares, is felt, and then goes. Bitterness stays and pervades long after it has surpassed its usefulness.

I have found powerful support for learning how to tap into my own anger in a healthy way. Some of that has been through my role models, people close to me who can embody anger while still maintaining compassion, humility and self-awareness. Some has been time spent in meditation and conversation with my friend Lesley who has taught me about working with emotions in ways that neither suppress nor feed them. Some has been the support of women’s circle. A space that allows my negative emotions to be held in a group which gives me grace and empathy, but doesn’t feed into gossip or bad-mouthing. Some of my most powerful teachers have been people I have been angry with. Some of my strongest connections are with friends who have been brave enough to admit they were angry with me.

Emeshe Amade is the village co-Lead Link of DR’s nonprofit.