A Response to, “Please Call Me Angry”

A Response to, “Please Call Me Angry”

by: Julia

Unlike Shamira, I do not want you to ask me why I am angry. I don’t think it is anyone’s business. And yet, it is one of many stereotypes foisted upon Black Women.

So…let me tell you why this particular Black Woman is angry.

I am angry because it is a matter of survival.

What am I surviving?

I am surviving the emasculation and degradation of the Black Man.

I am surviving single motherhood.

I am surviving video vixens.

I am surviving the refusal to be submissive.

I am surviving white feminism.

I am surviving the Real Housewives and Love and Hip Hop (both of which I LOVE).

I am surviving, “she asked for it”.

I am surviving not being light skinned.

I am surviving natural hair.

I am surviving having locked my hair.

I am surviving black don’t crack (which is true).

I am surviving not having “much back”.

I am surviving fried chicken, watermelon, and orange soda (all delicious!).

I am surviving apple bottom jeans, brazilian weaves, acrylic nails, eye lashes, contouring, lace wigs, botox, butt pads, spanx, spray tans, and the myriad of enhancements the media tells me is beauty.

I am surviving Black, African American, Negro, Colored, Slave, Commodity, Property, Animal, etc.

I am surviving bitch, slut, chickenhead, bird, side jawn, baby momma, main chick, wifey, etc.

I am surviving oreo, bougie, uppity, etc.

I am surviving Madea and the next white person to tell me, “Hello-ur”.

I am surviving welfare, affirmative action, universal health care, progressivism, and anything else privileged folks call a hand out


As a Black Woman I am forced to choose a myth as a persona.

My choices? The list is short, but telling.









So, why chose angry? I am an angry because I am not a hoe, a mammy, nor am I invulnerable.

I am called angry because I am educated and I refuse to lay down and eat the spoonfed bullshit that tells me I am less than daily. I can feed myself, and my meals consist of truth and self love that surpasses your image and ideals.

I am angry because I am single with two master’s degree and a damn good job.

I am angry because I will be paying school loans forever.

I am angry because people are surprised I don’t have kids at 32 like it is an accomplishment that I made it so far without getting knocked up.

I am angry because white men think I am a fad.

I am angry because black men find me intimidating.

I am angry because black women are in competition, and have no idea why.

I am angry because Beyonce had to tell black women to get into formation.

I am angry because somewhere in this country “Hot Sauce in My Bag, Swag” has already been appropriated.

I am angry because people keep telling me All Lives Matter, but police officers in NYC are lobbying to make resisting arrest a felony charge.

I am angry because Shamira’s piece is legit truth and I hate that it is our reality

I am angry because I have to explain why I am angry.

I am angry because the media and society won’t let me be or let me breathe as a woman.

Or, as many of the privileged would say, I am angry because I am Black. You know, since the two are synonymous…

Read Shamira’s Please Call Me Angry