Blessed Are the Angry
Post 22 in the Peaceful Resistance Series
How Righteous Rage Saves Lives
The Lie About Anger
You were taught to stay calm.
To keep your voice down.
To forgive quickly.
To smile through the harm.
Especially if you were raised in church, in purity culture, in patriarchal systems—
you learned that anger was a sin.
Anger was framed as dangerous.
Unspiritual.
A loss of control.
A failure of character.
But what if that was a lie?
What if your anger wasn’t proof of brokenness—
but evidence that something sacred in you survived?
Niceness is not the same as goodness.
Compliance is not the same as virtue.
You were not created to be a doormat in the name of peace.
Suppressed anger doesn’t make you holy.
It makes you sick.
It stores itself in your body.
In your chest.
In your silence.
Until one day it explodes—or collapses inward.
Anger is not the enemy of love.
Sometimes, it’s love refusing to be mistreated again.
Anger Is Often the First Sign of Self-Respect
Anger shows up when something sacred has been violated.
It flares the moment you realize:
“This is not okay.”
“I didn’t deserve that.”
“No one should be treated this way.”
For many of us, that first flicker of anger wasn’t destructive—it was clarifying.
It was the moment we remembered we are worth protecting.
It was the first time our body said no
even when our mouth still couldn’t.
Anger isn’t weakness.
It’s your nervous system demanding dignity.
It’s the beginning of boundaries.
The birth cry of healing.
It’s what survivors often feel when the fog of abuse lifts—
not because they’re bitter,
but because they finally understand the cost of what was taken.
Holy Anger Doesn’t Seek Revenge—It Seeks Repair
There is a kind of anger that burns without destroying.
It’s the kind that flips tables—
not to cause chaos,
but to clear the space for justice.
It’s the fury that fueled the prophets,
that carried Harriet Tubman,
that stood in Selma,
that still says: Enough.
Righteous rage doesn’t demand retribution.
It demands restoration.
It doesn’t seek to humiliate.
It seeks to heal what was broken—
to name what was wrong,
and to make it right.
Anger, when it’s rooted in love and truth,
isn’t a fire to fear.
It’s a torch that lights the path forward.
You Are Not Dangerous for Feeling It
If you’ve been told your anger makes you unlovable,
unspiritual,
unsafe—
remember this:
They fear your fire because they can’t control it.
But your anger is not too much.
It’s not a failure.
It’s not a sin.
It’s a signal that you are healing.
That you’re no longer willing to abandon yourself.
That you are beginning to believe you matter.
You are not dangerous for feeling it.
You are dangerous for denying it.
For stuffing it down.
For letting it eat you instead of feed you.
Let your anger teach you.
Let it fuel your honesty.
Let it help you build a world where no one has to swallow theirs just to survive.
NEXT - The Courage to Be Loud
