Female rage is the unrestrained expression of a woman’s anger. It’s the rage that’s a witness to every time a woman swallows her tears, conditioned in a cage. It’s the rage that drives the women of today to not just break this cage, but to live for herself and fight for every woman who can’t. That is why I see female rage as revolutionary and holy; it’s the deliberate choice to defy any norms and expectations laid out for them.
I think this rage is the fuel to fight against the suppression women still bear today. Every time a woman puts aside her needs to fit the societal expectations of a good woman, good daughter-in-law, good wife, or good mother, there might emerge this rage — screaming inside her — telling her it’s unfair. It’s the rage disguised as “it’s okay” and an uncomfortable smile to make others feel at ease.
I find it infuriating how some women live according to their fathers and their husbands instead of living for themselves. When a woman tries to bring her rage to the forefront, it might be considered unfeminine, but I perceive that a woman being the sad damsel in distress is heavily appreciated. I feel like society has always loathed powerful women because they’re scared that they will speak up against societal roles that are expected of them.
Being from South Asia, it’s very common for women to be expected to be a certain way. It’s gotten better in bigger cities, but along the streets of smaller ones, you can still hear families wanting their daughters to be fair skinned, not too tall, not too educated, quiet, and docile. It’s the generational orthodoxism stringing the women along into believing she isn’t good enough.
I consider myself lucky. I was raised in a household where my parents made sure misogyny didn’t step in. Whether or not I marry isn’t a dinner table conversation until I say so. I am not sold on the narrative that I need a man to have an identity. I feel grateful, but to me that’s the bare minimum — I think that’s how it should be and should have been for every woman. It incites my rage that, to some families, educating their daughter isn’t a priority. But to make her fit a checklist to marry a man, is.
In my case, the frequent cases of sexual violence that make my home city unsafe is one of the reasons why I decided to leave. My dad wouldn’t allow me to go out at late hours by myself — and I don’t blame him. My city is known as the rape capital of India and stands nowhere in conviction rates. It’s panic-striking. I wanted to dream big and not always be afraid and full of rage. The sad part is I am still scared, because women have gone through this and still do.
I feel like society lets men get away with horrible acts against women and similarly justifies their behaviour, while women are instead subject to victim blaming and are told that something about their own behaviour was the reason why something horrible happened to them in the first place.
To me, the ultimate expression of female rage is being independent and living life based on my decisions. Even if it’s bad, I’ll know it’s on me and not influenced by someone whose opinion I didn’t ask for. I understand the privilege of studying, working, and shaping my life into the one I dream of. I am using all my rage to be independent and exceptional enough that no one even dares to dim my light and put me in a cage — because I will not let them. In my opinion, it’s important to be independent and earn your own money because no one will be with you forever but yourself. It gives you not just a sense of financial freedom, but a sense of self.
We don’t need to bottle the rage, but let the rage out — scream it loud enough until the patriarchy and misogyny crumble to ashes. If rage brings women to fight against the odds and have an independent sense of self, then I feel the rage is majestic.
