I am angry that
- my anger has been so often discounted as trivial.
- that so many people behave as though my expressions of anger are best left silent, even as male compatriots express the same dissatisfaction and are heard with respect.
- that I was not allowed to express anger as a child.
- that as a child, I went unheard because of the abusive adage “children should be seen and not heard.”
- that I have ever been expected to fulfill someone else’s expectations for my life.
- that people just assumed I’d be a teacher, or some other echo of my parents.
- that Facebook has made it possible for people I’d rather forget existed to find me.
- that those people that do find me expect me to allow contact with them a)as if they didn’t treat me like dirt and b)just because they want to poke around my profile for gossip purposes.
- that so many people want me to be a silent audience to narrow and uninteresting lives.
- that there are those who find fault with me for refusing to live a boring life, as though the interesting choices are somehow a moral failing. (Jerk!) My life is interesting. The female sex organs go with me on those adventures, and so far have not hindered it.