Writing Our Anger - by Liz Carter

There's no doubt that the last year has prompted a whole host of polarised views. You only have to scroll through your Facebook page to see a range of them at play. The other day my local paper reported that 9 people had died that day in our local hospital, and the comments were full of anger, denial and hatred, people attacking one another, minimising pain and suffering and seemingly unable to listen to other viewpoints.

Many of us are living with a sense of anger about all this that is near to boiling, and most of us probably think that our take on the situation is the correct one - that's human nature, right? What stands out to me about many of these posts on social media is the lack of grace for others. I am as much guilty of this as anyone, when I am blazing with anger I hurl it out in words, and it's not always kind (I thought the image above might be an appropriate representation of what some of us feel about some people's opinions in their writing at times!) As writers, though, we hold both privilege and responsibility when it comes to how we use our words and our platforms.

The thing is, righteous anger is a Thing, and it's okay. Jesus did it, after all, with the moneychangers in the temple, with the Pharisees he called a brood of vipers. He demonstrated the importance of anger in the face of injustice, and he did not hold back in his attack on oppression. So how are we to take this model and demonstrate our own anger at what we see as injustice, but without joining in the general pile on, spewing hatred, or having a detrimental effect on someone's mental health? And is it really okay to use our writing to shout at people?

I think we need to aim for that perfect point of balance between attacking the person and calling out their views, while always allowing ourselves to listen to other viewpoints and be prepared to research and even change our own views if we then find them lacking in substance or compassion. For me, it's about remembering that there is a person behind the words, a living, breathing person with problems just like me, someone who might be afraid or sad or lonely or sick. They might be speaking out of mourning or exhaustion or mental health issues. If I then attack them, I might make them feel even worse.

Here's a small example of the difference between attacking a person and expressing anger at their views. Let's take a topical example, one that I have been struggling with lately:

Person: Only 400 healthy people have died of Covid in the UK. Why are we locking down? This whole thing is completely pathetic and causing untold damage to society.

Me (in unrestrained anger): You do realise that most 'underlying conditions' are not deadly, don't you? Are you so stupid that you don't bother researching anything behind what you are saying? You obviously hate sick and disabled people and want to euthanise us all. If you ever need to go to hospital for Covid, I hope they don't treat you.

Hmmm.

Or me (righteous anger expressed with grace, hopefully...): Lockdown is devastating, isn't it. I know it is affecting so many people and will continue to. It's all such a tragedy. But please can I ask you to have a close look at the numbers you are talking about? Have a look at the people behind these numbers, at the 80,000+, many of whom have conditions like asthma, psoriasis, even glaucoma - but even those with more serious conditions - it sounds to me like you are saying they should not be counted, and because I am one of those that hurts.

Now the first response might be something I'd reel off in anger, forgetting that the person writing might be quoting these numbers to try and reassure herself it's not as bad as all that, or maybe that she has lost her job or had some treatment for her cancer delayed. And that's the heart of the issue when it comes to writing anger: not that we shouldn't express our thoughts, even sometimes in powerful and persuasive language, but that we should remember the person behind the screen.

When I've tried to write with grace I've noticed that people are far more receptive to what is being said, and more likely to listen. It might not change minds but it might change hearts, because showing care for the individual can be a radical action, an act of love. Jesus modelled grace in all of his conversations. But this doesn't mean he downplayed his point, merely that he emphasised it further.

There are times we should call out broods of vipers for what they are. There are times we should use our writing to upend tables and shout against oppression. But mostly there are times when we can use our writing to challenge positions while loving others, and that's sometimes the hardest thing to do. I wish I could be better at it...

What do you think about writing anger? Do you use your novels, non-fiction writing, blog posts or social media to express your own anger and to call out injustices you see? How do people respond to different ways you write these things?

Liz Carter is an author and poet who writes about finding peace within the pain, writing out of chronic illness. Her books Catching Contentment and Treasure in Dark Places explore this theme further.