I don’t recall ever getting angry when I was a little girl. I must have done when I was a baby, but as a child people always said that I was good as gold. I think I understood very quickly that I wasn’t allowed to be angry. None of the women around me ever got angry, nor any of the little girls. I say ‘none of the women’ because I’m not counting maternal anger directed towards children. This kind of anger is part of a complex system in which the mental burden and unequal division of labour related to the bringing up of children prompts more occasions for anger in the mother than in the father,
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