The Dance of Anger: A Woman's Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships

by Harriet Lerner

Anger is a signal, and one worth listening to. Our anger may be a message that we are being hurt, that our rights are being violated, that our needs or wants are not being adequately met, or simply that something is not right. Our anger may tell us that we are not addressing an important emotional issue in our lives, or that too much of our self—our beliefs, values, desires, or ambitions—is being compromised in a relationship. Our anger may be a signal that we are doing more and giving more than we can comfortably do or give. Or our anger may warn us that others are doing too much for us, at the expense of our own competence and growth. Just as physical pain tells us to take our hand off the hot stove, the pain of our anger preserves the very integrity of our self.

Thus, we too learn to fear our own anger, not only because it brings about the disapproval of others, but also because it signals the necessity for change. We may begin to ask ourselves questions that serve to block or invalidate our own experience of anger: “Is my anger legitimate?” “Do I have a right to be angry?” “What’s the use of my getting angry?” “What good will it do?” These questions can be excellent ways of silencing ourselves and shutting off our anger.

Let us question these questions. Anger is neither legitimate nor illegitimate, meaningful nor pointless. Anger simply is. To ask, “Is my anger legitimate?” is similar to asking, “Do I have a right to be thirsty? After all, I just had a glass of water fifteen minutes ago. Surely my thirst is not legitimate. And besides, what’s the point of getting thirsty when I can’t get anything to drink now, anyway?”

with the goal, not of getting rid of our anger or doubting its validity, but of gaining greater clarity about its sources and then learning to take a new and different action on our own behalf.

In situations that might realistically evoke anger or protest, we stay silent—or become tearful, self-critical, or “hurt.” If we do feel angry, we keep it to ourselves in order to avoid the possibility of open conflict. But it is not just our anger that we keep to ourselves; in addition, we may avoid making clear statements about what we think and feel, when we suspect that such clarity would make another person uncomfortable and expose differences between us. When we behave in this way, our primary energy is directed toward protecting another person and preserving the harmony of our relationships at the expense of defining a clear self. Over time we may lose our clarity of self, because we are putting so much effort into “reading” other people’s reactions and ensuring that we don’t rock the boat, we may become less and less of an expert about our own thoughts, feelings, and wants.

We may be so driven by emotionality that we do not reflect on our options for behaving differently or even believe that new options are possible.

will be looking at the ways in which we betray and sacrifice the self in order to preserve harmony with others (“de-selfing”); we will be exploring the delicate balance between individuality (the “I”) and togetherness (the “we”) in relationships;

We may be putting our anger energy into trying to change or control a person who does not want to change, rather than putting that same energy into getting clear about our own position and choices.

two things that we all do when we are stuck and spinning our wheels: First, she fought about a false issue. Second, she put her energy into trying to change the other person.

one of the hallmarks of emotional maturity is to recognize the validity of multiple realities and to understand that people think, feel, and react differently.

It is extremely difficult to learn, with our hearts as well as our heads, that we have a right to everything we think and feel—and so does everyone else.

It is our job to state our thoughts and feelings clearly and to make responsible decisions that are congruent with our values and beliefs.

Feeling fuzzy-headed, inarticulate, and not so smart are common reactions experienced by women as we struggle to take a stand on our own behalf. It is not just anger and fighting that we learn to fear; we avoid asking precise questions and making clear statements when we unconsciously suspect that doing so would expose our differences, make the other person feel uncomfortable, and leave us standing alone.

If we are searching for the ultimate “truth” of the matter (How much should a parent ask? How much should a daughter give?), we may be failing to appreciate that there are multiple ways of perceiving the same situation and that people think, feel, and react differently. If I persist in repeating this point, it is because it is an extremely difficult concept to grasp, and hold on to, when we are angry. Conflicting wants and different perceptions of the world do not mean that one party is “right” and the other is “wrong.”

The rules and roles of our families and society make it especially difficult for women to define ourselves apart from the wishes and expectations of others—and negative reactions from others, when we begin to pay primary attention to the quality and direction of our own lives, may certainly invite us to become anxious and guilty.

The more our relationships in our first family are fused (meaning the togetherness force is so powerful that there is a loss of the separate “I’s” within the “we”), the more we learn to take responsibility for other people’s feelings and reactions and blame them for our own. (“You always make Mom feel guilty.” “You give Dad headaches.” “She caused her husband to drink.”) Likewise, family members assume responsibility for causing other people’s thoughts, feelings, and behavior.

We are responsible for our own behavior. But we are not responsible for other people’s reactions; nor are they responsible for ours. Women often learn to reverse this order of things: We put our energy into taking responsibility for other people’s feelings, thoughts, and behavior and hand over to others responsibility for our own.

Although no one has died from sulking yet, women, the emotional rescuers of the world, can have a terribly difficult time allowing others just to sit with their feelings and learn to handle them.

Men also have this difficulty balancing the forces of separateness and togetherness; however, they tend to handle anxiety by emotional distancing and disengaging (thus, sacrificing the “we” for the “I”), whereas women more frequently handle anxiety by fusion and emotional overfunctioning (thus, sacrificing the “I” for the “we”).

As mothers, we are led to believe that we can, and should, control things that are not realistically within our control. Many of us do feel an excessive need to control our children’s behavior, to prove to ourselves, to our own mothers, and to the world that we are good mothers.

This togetherness force between mother and child may be so strong that many of us have difficulty achieving the degree of separateness that would allow us to listen to our children in an empathic, low-keyed way, inviting them to talk more and elaborate as they wish. When we learn to stay in our own skin and avoid assuming an overfunctioning or “fix-it” position, children—whether they are four or forty—demonstrate a remarkable capacity to manage their own feelings, find solutions to their problems, and ask for help when they want it.

Her belief that her anger is not rational, legitimate, or mature may prevent her from being able to articulate it, even to herself.

it often takes time and effort to define a position that is congruent with our beliefs and values—a position that we can stick to without suffering undue anxiety and guilt when the countermoves start rolling in.

Remember that women have a long legacy of assuming responsibility for other people’s feelings and for caring for others at the expense of the self. Some of us may care for others by picking up their dirty socks or doing their “feeling work”; some by being less strong, self-directed, and competent than we can be so as to avoid threatening those important to us. Changing our legacy is possible but not easy. Think small to begin with, but think.

She was beginning to mourn the loss of the old stuck-together bond with her parents that protected her from that funny feeling of separateness and aloneness that accompanies our moving from a fused to a more mature relationship.

Don’t tell another person what she or he thinks or feels or “should” think or feel. If another person gets angry in reaction to a change you make, don’t criticize their feelings or tell them they have no right to be angry. Better to say, “I understand that you’re angry, and if I were in your shoes, perhaps I’d be angry, too. But I’ve thought it over and this is my decision.” Remember that one person’s right to be angry does not mean that the other person is to blame.

the distance that so often exists between us and our fathers may be the source of our angry complaints (“My father has no concern about me whatsoever”); yet we may actively (although unconsciously) go along with our father’s “odd-man-out” position in a family triangle.