In “The Case for Rage,” Myisha Cherry justifies the use of anger in black activist movements, arguing that “Lordean Rage,” as opposed to Rogue, Wipe, Narcissistic, and Ressentiment Rage, directly “targets those who are complicit in and perpetrators of racism and racial injustice” (23). Its aim, in short, is widespread change. In this way, Lordean Rage operates in direct contrast to common conceptions of “rage.” Ressentiment Rage, for example, “is aimed at a racial group in power and is expressed by those who are without power” (19). The aim here is revenge and it is informed by an envious and exclusive perspective, as those who express resentment rage often seek the very position their “superiors” inhabit. Similarly, Narcissistic Rage targets “those forces that target [victims] as individuals.” Those who employ it, in short, are “angry at a system that doesn’t allow people like them… to succeed” (21). So whereas Ressentiment and Narcissistic Rage are informed by an exclusive perspective of freedom, Lordean Rage is informed by an inclusive perspective of freedom.
The problem that Cherry identifies is that the former examples of rage – largely considered irrational, uncontrollable, and dangerous – are taken to be paradigm cases (16). As a result, Lordean Rage – or rage aimed to address systemic injustices that inhibit equal opportunity and emotional balance – is taken to be exceptional. This book can thus be considered a tool for black communities to understand their target and the perspectives that informs “Lordean” action; it also serves as a framework for people not directly affected by racial injustice to engage black communities, and more importantly, understand why Lordean Rage is absolutely necessary for confronting systemic racism.
Moreover, Myisha Cherry helps us understand that anger is (1) communicative, as a means of telling “others that a wrongdoing has occurred;” (2) defensive, to “preserve the dignity and lives of [affected] people;” (3) and motivational, to compel people to fight injustice, especially when that injustice is systematically embedded within the structure of society (63, 67). If we do not express our anger and let the concomitant emotions build up, we not only “communicate that there is nothing to be angry about,” but we also allow ourselves to experience the negative – irrational, uncontrollable, and dangerous – sides of anger. But because Lordean Rage, in fact, responds to injustices systemically embedded within the structure of society, and because those injustices will continue to manifest themselves in new ways, shapes, and forms, the fight for absolute equality, and the fight to realize a society of shared freedom, will likely continue on for a long time. Being someone who occupies certain communities that, at times, look negatively upon instances of rage, the path forward is a little less obvious.
When I say that I “occupy” these communities, I do not mean that I am part of a group that despises racial justice – in fact, quite the opposite. I was born into a demographic that, precisely because we never experienced similar racially-targeted impediments to growth and vitality, lacks a foundational understanding of the situation, and by extension, knowledge of the necessary methods (i.e., Lordean Rage) to fix the situation. In these communities, talk of more “hostile” forms of black activism often takes the following form: “I agree that what provoked those riots was bad. However, why don’t they just engage the rest of the country in political discourse instead of resorting to violence?” This perspective, I argue, is not motivated by hatred towards the black community. It is simply ignorant of the reality these communities face on a day-to-day basis. Moreover, that the suggestion entails engaging the country in “political discourse” actually reflects the problem. When black activists engage in political discourse, their words are often ignored in communities outside academia. And when they “resort” to rage, the response is often a command: “engage in discourse.”
To address this issue, I propose we begin thinking about demographic communities more fluidly. We should not frame solutions to racial injustice as carried out by black communities with the support of white ones; rather, it can occur across, between, and within distinct communities. There thus needs to be a set of protocols for people like myself to spread “uptake” – or the acceptance of rage as the requisite and legitimate response to racial injustice – within more narrow-minded communities, so that when I interact with people in these communities, my words do not sound hollow and misinformed to people who have not taken the responsible steps to expand their own perspective and understanding of the issue.
Like anything else in life, I think this is a slow, and at times discouraging process. However, when we look back on the history of various human rights movements, we can begin to see that those who came before us were forced to overcome greater obstacles with less of a foundational belief that they would prevail – precisely because their “cause” had never been realized before. It therefore becomes the responsibility of all participants to frame their situation, struggle, and fight – whatever it may be – within a broader context of human progress. In doing so, we may not only remind ourselves that “it can, in fact, always be worse,” but we will also come to accept our various struggles as perpetual, and our demise – inevitable. Quitting or remitting will no longer be an option when we understand that (1) our emotions (including anger) reflect an engagement with the world, and (2) the failure to express those emotions will adversely affect those who come after us: though, in the moment, anger may feel uncomfortable, the effect, we must be remember, just like the intent, is change.
Shared by: Anonymous