The angry cry is an under-appreciated and maligned form of emotional outpouring. But like many other private things, it’s best not to do it in public.
It’s a half-sob, half-yelp, caught in your throat. Part of you wants to scream and rip and tear and destroy (which would be much healthier than the what the rest of you wants to do, in my opinion) and the other traitorous part wants to curl into a little ball until the bad people stop being mean.
Usually, I tend towards express, not repress. That is why I have constructed a life without bosses or authority figures other than my cat. Because you cannot express yourself to authority figures. The power imbalance is too great, the stakes are too high. And they do not appreciate being told that they are cunts, especially when they are being just that.
But as you feel your agency being sapped away by the voracious ego of the bureaucratic behemoth in front of you, it ruptures your sense of well-being, your autonomy. And thus you are left with the two-step schism: screaming or hiding. The tension of these two states existing in one person? You guessed it: the angry cry
I guess the traitorous part wins after all. We bite down our words, push them down, and concede to tyrants — and call it wisdom and being an adult.
Angry science girl 