Angry black woman? You bet. Take a listen to this fabulousness:
That was Sonya Renee, and the first time I listened to it, I just kind of stared, open-mouthed, at the computer. This is a kind of poetry I would love to be able to create, the kind of delivery I’d love to be able to give. It reminds me of a poem I heard Alice Walker read years ago at a National Black Writers’ Conference, “What Can the White Man Say to the Black Woman?”
I know there’s at least one man in the world who thinks I suffer from Angry Black Woman Syndrome, and he’s right enough, I guess, as far as he’s concerned: I was angry with him and I am quite definitely a black woman. But it’s also true that I’m angry about a lot of other things, not just that he couldn’t be, wouldn’t be (wasn’t ever?) a man who was ready to be my man in a way that would have pleased either of us. I’m angry about a lot of other things, and sometimes my anger spills out — never as eloquently as Sonya Renee’s, but out all the same. And it can’t hardly be any wonder that I might stay angry because the things that piss me off keep coming, keep coming too fast for me to get over one before the next one is in my face, pushing me back, pressing me down.
But is this a black thing or a woman thing? It may be one or the other. Or both. But should it be? Shouldn’t it just be “anger“ … anger that should be an everybody thing? How can everybody not be angry when people make jokes about rape? How can people not be angry when someone shows up at a McCain rally with an effigy of Obama that is a monkey? How can people not be angry that Sarah Palin has no pity for the look of shell-shocked terror that showed in Bristol’s eyes as she was trotted out before the media? How can people not be angry to watch Sarah Palin refuse to call abortion clinic bombers and doctor-murderers domestic terrorists? How can people not be angry about the murder of Sean Bell and the acquittal of his killers? … Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t you know? Yes, I am still ‘on about’ that, still trying to keep that wound from festering, still watching while it doesn’t heal and doesn’t heal and doesn’t heal.
Renee is right: women do deserve better. Don’t we all?