The angry black woman, a narrative.

The angry black woman they portray her as the woman who is irrational, unhinged, beyond grasp of her own emotions. They tell her she is filled by blinded rage and misdirected anger.

No,she is passion- her passion burns for what she believes in, it fuels her, it is her motivation. This is her flock, like the matriarch she is she strives for its endeavours, supports its growth, shields it from adversity. Her tears water the soil she stands on, her hands hold, nurture and heal, she comforts.

She is assertive, she walks with firm conviction, every step leaving her print, she was here. She commands respect, she refuses to be silenced.

She demands a voice, she deserves to be heard. Her words do not mean any less than anyone else’s yet she fights to be heard. She listens, she takes on others burdens as her own. She listens to the fears, frustrations, injustices and becomes a mouth piece for them to be heard as she screams, yells, cries out.

Yes she is angry, because as she fights for you, fights for her sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, the ones who she nurtures, cries for, prays in every tongue for, she is looked down upon, disrespected, doubted and second guessed. At her whits end she drops the decorum, loses composure. Fuelled by the rawest of emotions, she unleashes, the anger, the pain the betrayal. She is now what she has been made to be, she is the angry black woman

It is pure fervent adoration that has made her the angry black woman and I applaud her.