“If you're not angry, you're either a stone or you're too sick to be angry. You should be angry. Use that anger, yes. You write it. You paint it. You dance it. You march it. You vote it. You do everything about it. You talk it. Never stop talking it. Now mind you, there's a difference ... You must not be bitter. Let me show you why. Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. It doesn’t do anything to the object of its displeasure. " (Maya Angelou to Dave Chapelle)
Maya Angelou told us we should be angry but not bitter. Right now, anger is not in short supply. Many of us—especially Black women, immigrants, and anyone speaking out against the US regime, are pushed to the margins— carrying the weight of yet another political betrayal. Once again, race and gender have been weaponized to uphold power structures that do not serve us. We watched this last election as Christo-fascist rhetoric paraded as moral clarity, hollowing out what little trust we had left in institutions, in so-called allies, in the promise of “progress” (Butler, 2023; Williams, 2024).
Bitterness is tempting. It’s seductive, even. It asks nothing of us but to sit in it. To stew. But bitterness rots inward. It feeds on the soul. It doesn’t just mark the failure of systems—it marks the corrosion of our own clarity, our own joy, our own will to fight. And that’s a cost we can’t afford.
Angelou’s distinction is sharp and urgent: anger, when harnessed, moves. Bitterness stalls. Rage, when aimed, breaks chains. Bitterness builds them. What we need now is not to become consumed by what has been done to us, but to become surgical with our outrage. Rage can be a scalpel. It can cut the rot out. But it must be held with care.
A womanist ethic demands more than reaction. It demands that we move with purpose, not just emotion. That we ask: What will serve the people I love? What will protect us? What will build something durable and defiant in the face of this violence? That ethic doesn’t mean we get quiet. It doesn’t mean we swallow our fury. It means we shape it into something sharper than despair—something that works.

We are not required to be “gracious.” We’re not here to soothe the discomfort of those just now realizing the stakes. But we are required to protect our energy. To strategize. To organize. To create. And to be clear-eyed about who is harmed and who benefits when we give in to bitterness.
Let’s be honest: bitterness feels like power, but it’s a trap. It keeps us spinning in grief and betrayal. Rage, on the other hand—righteous rage—can be fuel. It can write policy. It can flip elections. It can protect trans kids and bodily autonomy and public schools (Crenshaw, 2023). It can speak truth in pulpits poisoned by patriarchy. It can burn down lies and plant something better in their place.
So let us be angry. Let us be loud. But let us also be strategic. Join or support local organizing. Donate. Speak. Write. March. Vote like our lives depend on it—because they do.
Rage, wisely wielded, can change everything!
Dr. CL Nash, The Misogynoir to Mishpat (M2M) Research Network © 2025
Select Citations:
Crenshaw, Kimberlé. “Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence against Women of Color.” Stanford Law Review, 2023 reprint edition.
Butler, Anthea. White Evangelical Racism: The Politics of Morality in America. University of North Carolina Press, 2023.
Williams, Delores. Sisters in the Wilderness: The Challenge of Womanist God-Talk. Orbis Books, reissued 2024.