The news cycle can feel unbearable at the best of times, but the past few weeks have felt particularly traumatic. From distressing descriptions of alleged sexual violence in the ‘Cornell 7’ case to various comics taking a year to apologise for rape jokes, we’re all feeling a bit, well, angry. Stylist’s L’Oréal Blackett writes that women’s rage is not something we should apologise for – in fact, it’s essential.
Content note: this article contains references to sexual violence and domestic abuse that reads may find upsetting
Over the past few weeks, I’ve felt an undeniable rage that’s been hard to move past. I’ve seen social media set ablaze in response to the Cornell 7 case, in which seven men stand accused in a civil lawsuit of allegedly sexually assaulting a fellow Cornell University student; I’ve seen comedian Vittorio Angelone apologise for making a rape joke – a year after he first made it; and I can barely read the reported headlines from the ongoing Russell Brand trial, where he faces allegations of rape and sexual assault. Brand has always denied all the charges.
“I am tired of this. I am afraid for my daughters. I just feel like I want to mobilise. Do something??” a former colleague messaged me earlier this month.
“Your anger is a great place to start,” I replied.
Women are angry. And right now, we have every reason to stay mad.
Historically, anger has been the emotion women have been taught to shove into the back cupboards of our brains. Women, generationally, have been labelled hysterical, over-emotional and even unstable when daring to react. As a Black woman, the entrenched ‘angry Black woman’ stereotype has long made me swallow my anger in an attempt to seem more palatable at work and in relationships. I (and many other marginalised women) am very conscious of being penalised more harshly when daring to enforce a boundary (I’ve been called “intimidating”, “feisty” and, interestingly, a “Black Panther” by previous male employees). However, as news about alleged violence against women and girls continues, it feels far more dangerous to back away from the uncomfortable feelings of anger than use it. To be frank, now is not the time to let up off society’s neck.
Being considered an ‘angry woman’ is something I’ve come to embrace in 2026
When directed at systems that fail us, women’s anger protects other women. After news about the Cornell 7 broke, we saw the mobilising power of women’s anger. It was student journalists of The Cornell Daily Sun – editor-in-chief Sophia Dasser and reporter Cereese Qusba – who front-paged the civil lawsuit filed by ‘Jane Doe’, sparking necessary media attention and global outrage. I was moved by the ‘I am Jane Doe’ declarations that followed; women across the world shared stories about abuse, harassment and assault, not just as a gesture of solidarity but to form a collective shield for the young woman at the centre of the storm.
The more women shared their stories, the more I reflected on my own. Anger was a useful emotion in the face of the domestic violence I previously endured; it was the momentum of anger that gave me the strength to pack my bags and leave the relationship. It is anger that drives my desire towards advocacy and motivates me to write this very article. When women get angry, things change.
Being considered an ‘angry woman’ is something I’ve come to embrace in 2026. Culturally, there appears to be a deep fascination with female rage, and it has become the subject of popular fiction books and films; from the ‘angry women’ written in bestseller Yesteryear to Gone Girl. Lily Allen’s West End Girl album, which chronicled the collapse of her marriage to cheating husband David Harbour, has been praised for its unfiltered portrayal of righteous anger – complete with receipts. But this is more than just a zeitgeisty pop culture moment. There’s been an unapologetic shift towards vocal, impolite and angry women in public life – including widespread protests against male violence against women and girls led by women in the UK, across college campuses in the US, and many more globally. And it’s not always pretty.
Many women I admire are proud ‘angry women’. When journalist and feminist activist Gloria Steinem died earlier this year, I was reminded of one of her famous quotes about anger being an “energy cell we can use” to fight against injustice, pain and cruelty.
I am energised by my anger. But honestly, sometimes I feel exhausted by it, too.
It’s close to a decade since the MeToo movement gathered global momentum and left a lasting imprint on society, despite many attempts by some male comedians and popular commentators to belittle its impact. Women were angry then. We were angry well before. We are angry now. You may be wondering, how much angrier do we need to get?
Granted, men should be mad about misogyny and violence against women, too. Stylist’s Abbey Allen recently wrote about how male solidarity is necessary in the face of misogyny. And I agree that the reality of gendered violence is not only a burden for women to shoulder alone. Anger is the most human response to much of what we’ve learned recently.
The news cycle may have reached fever pitch over the past few weeks, but I worry that after the current furore dies down, so will our anger. And we can’t risk losing momentum. Not now, not ever.
If you have been sexually assaulted, you can find your nearest Sexual Assault Referral Centre here. You can also find support at your local GP, voluntary organisations such as Women’s Aid, and Victim Support, and you can report it to the police (if you choose) here.
Refuge’s National Domestic Abuse helpline offers free, confidential support 24/7 on 0808 2000 247.
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