Clean Anger

Despite anger being a more acceptable emotion for men to show, it still gets a bad rap. Anger can be used to intimidate and manipulate. Left untempered, it boils and morphs into rage. Unbridled rage can result in irrevocable damage, destroying safety and shattering trust with others around us. This classic form of anger, we might label “dirty” anger.

Informed by pride and entitlement, dirty anger is self-serving. It says I’m the victim here, and I deserve to set things straight by any and all means necessary. Nobody better get in my way.

But is anger all bad? Is there such a thing as “clean” anger? (Spiritual Director, Beth Miller, discusses the concept of “clean anger” in her book, What Loss Can Teach Us.)

Don’t Drive Angry

While anger is such a visceral, embodied feeling, it’s not the whole story. On the surface, it might look like, “You did that, and it made me angry.” Well, you know what they say? If it’s hysterical, it’s historical. There’s a reason (or several) we get super angry—an old narrative in the back of our minds being triggered in the present. Our history influences our current reactions.

Driving is a battleground for me and my anger. I can get disproportionately irate and vehement, being set off by a careless maneuver of another driver. Somebody cuts me off on the freeway, and then drives 10 MPH under the speed limit. Excuse me, what the actual—stuff like this makes me insane. Whilst seeing red, I’m spewing venom from the blackest nether-regions of my heart. Surely, this person’s prime goal is to inconvenience me, put me in danger, and generally be an absolute Richard. Well, they can fluff right off.

In the moment of that rage, my rational brain is out to lunch. I’m not thinking critically; I am reacting—and doing it poorly. Molten blood is surging through my arteries, blasted throughout my body by a turbo diesel fuel pump. Breathing is sharp; gut is tense; arms and legs are ready for battle.

If this looks familiar, it’s because it’s the fight part of the fight/flight response. Except, this time it’s for revenge—not self-defense.

Where is the Off-ramp?

This unbridled, ready-to-smash-skulls rampage is probably not going to make anything better about my situation, now or down the road (wordplay, anyone?). However, I can notice the physiological response my body is having, and then make a choice about a course of action. Ideally before I’m thinking violent thoughts, I will choose the off-ramp. Perhaps literally, in this situation.

I’m not ignoring my anger; I can still acknowledge it. However, I do not need to act on it. Instead of allowing myself to become furious, I might get curious.

Wow, I’m having a very big and scary response to being tailgated right now. I wonder what that’s all about? What is really going on inside me right now?

Curiosity Killed The Act

What’s the solution to commute-induced indignation? Don’t get angry? Nah, that ain’t it. Well, not quite.

It’d be great if I just never got triggered while driving. Then, I wouldn’t have to manage it. Fact is, it’ll happen again. And again. Hopefully, I can continue making modifications to my way of life so that it happens less frequently and with less intensity. But the getting triggered isn’t necessarily the problem. Sometimes, our bodies simply react without our permission.

The off-ramp I mentioned can take different forms. A good one for me has been to get curious. Good heavens, why am I having such a large reaction (this is a lighthearted tone, by the way—no self-shaming here)? Is there something deeper getting triggered right now?

Digging Up The Past

In a previous post, I went over the Pain and Peace Cycle. For a refresher, check it out here. Let’s zoom out, and see what the anger is all about.

For me, personally, driving brings up a few underlying key pains. When somebody gets in my space—cuts me off, tailgates me, veers into my lane—I sometimes get mad. When I get mad, my best self is going to take a step back, and try to understand why.

The intentional violations committed by other drivers I perceive awakens the feeling that I’m not allowed to take up space. It also activates the feeling that I don’t matter, and my needs don’t matter. A part of me that believes I don’t deserve to occupy this spot gets pressed on.

These feelings are not new. My inflated anger response is not just about the present driving situation. It’s a tale as old as time.

Primal Yet Secondary

If there are underlying feelings that instigate my anger, you might call anger a secondary emotion. In fact, some proponents of the Pain and Peace Cycle assert just that. Considering this Pain Cycle, the feeling (primary) could be “I don’t matter,” and the coping response (secondary) is anger. In this sense, anger is more so an unhealthy coping action than a traditional emotion.

I’ll wander too far into the weeds if I don’t stop here. Just know, there are semantics. I do find it helpful to think of anger being a two-step process as it gives me a sense of agency over it. Validating your own ingrained pain beneath the anger can be a highly efficacious first step to managing a trigger and avoiding going off the rails on a crazy train.

Pure Petulance

Anger is surprisingly diverse. It shows up, overtly and covertly, as vengeance, rage, resentment, contention, contempt, bitterness…the list trails on. Additionally, it can present as clean fuel.

The Bible says “in your anger, do not sin” (Eph. 4:26). Jesus himself became angry. If that’s the case, anger itself must not be a sin.

Jesus used this righteous indignation to start literally flipping tables of merchants who set up shop in the temple (Matt. 21:12-13). There was a violation, an injustice, and Jesus used anger to fuel a course of correction. Of course, this doesn’t give us permission to flip tables whenever we get angry. I’m not Jesus, and neither are you. But it does suggest that anger can be a good and proper response to injustice and impropriety.

Clean anger can be just what we need to overcome the inertia between us and assertive action. Instead of giving in to passivity, we can channel healthy anger into having that difficult conversation with our boss, fighting against addiction, or standing up for others being treated unfairly.

Why You Mad, Bro?

Sadness and tenderness, seen as reflections of weakness, are often shamed out of men. Conversely, anger is considered powerful and an indicator of strength (albeit, dangerous strength). Dirty anger gives a false sense of control over a situation, commanding counterfeit respect from others. Yet, we all know that fear does not equal respect.

I’ve heard it said that anger is a mask for sadness and grief. Behind the façade of hatred and bitterness, there’s often a little boy clutching unprocessed grief. For me, I have historically not felt safe to express sorrow. Growing up, I got the message that I shouldn’t be sad. Being sad meant I was too sensitive and weak. To be taken seriously as a man, I ought to obscure sadness. That sadness does not cease to be just because we ignore it. Untreated grief is going to leak out sideways, commonly in the form of anger.

I find it terribly ironic that our culture applauds men of courage and strength, while simultaneously shaming men who show signs of despondency and distress. We tell men that it’s tough and admirable to bury deep any and all challenging emotions. I’m here to argue that it takes far more courage as a man to acknowledge grief and seek support than it does to avoid it and pretend it’s not there. We have all experienced loss and heartbreak. It’s high time we start admitting it and encouraging one another through it.

Rage, Rage, Against the Dying of the Light

Well, I guess my message is to give yourself permission to be sad and entertain clean anger. We men are more than overconfident, grudge-holding buffoons. God created us with the whole gamut of feelings, and it’s up to us to be bold enough to embody them.

Do not go gentle into that good night.