Women’s anger has become an influential commodity in the post-modern world. Measures of women’s happiness are declining decade over decade, and “liberated” women are filled with more rage than any of their allegedly oppressed ancestors.
While mothers are encouraged to let their anger fester as some kind of righteous and worthy inferno, the fact of the matter that being angry is contrary to what most mothers want to be. To remember a motherly presence as a small child is to remember nurturing warmth, reassurance, and calm. “Having an adult in the room” means having a level-headed, selfless person who gives the appearance—not the deception—of clarity and confidence. Muttering cusswords and festering over grievances provide nothing of this calming maternal presence in the world.
In her engaging book Mother Culture, Karen Andreola offers an insightful take on the role of “mother.” What the immature assume is that a calm mother grits her teeth, or bites her lip like Marmee, and feels every bit as much rage but through a Herculean effort of sheer will succeeds in putting up a front of calm. However, it would be a mistake to wait until the house is trashed, the children are dirty and tired, and you are drained of impulse control to try to force a state of composure. Part of the art, in addition to the tactical delay of biting a lip and calmly walking away, is ordering life so that those dire moments occur with less frequency.
As Andreola writes in her explanation of what “Mother Culture” is, “Mother Culture is the skillful art with which a mother looks after the ways of her household and herself. In her home she creates a culture all her own with a mingling of love and responsibility. A mother does a lot of taking care, so she also takes care of herself. So much depends on how she manages her life.”
The realization that an exemplary mother never raises her voice is most often met with a sinking feeling, a spasm of guilt, and a burst of shame. Most women do not live up to such a standard. And yet, it remains an ideal worth striving for. Andreola continues her explication of “Mother Culture” by turning to some of the thought of Charlotte Mason, who state:
The old painters, however diverse their ideas in other matters, all fixed upon one quality as proper to the pattern of Mother. The Madonna, no matter out of whose canvas she looks at you, is always serene…We should do well to hang our walls with the Madonnas of all the early Masters [of art] if the lesson, taught through the eye, would reach with calming influence to the heart.
Practically speaking, how does one pursue such a lofty aim in the mess of ordinary life? The cultivation of habits that encourage calm. With diligence, great deeds can be accomplished in small, concentrated bursts of activity over a long period of time.
A fine lesson in responding to anger comes from none other than Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. Fred Rogers, the calm and gentle, sweater-wearing friend of children everywhere, apparently struggled with a temper earlier in life. He frequently encouraged children to find a way to channel their anger so as not to be hurtful or destructive.
What Mr. Rogers advocates is ownership of feelings. Instead of being swept up in the emotion, making a choice to act on the feeling or not, deciding what to do. Like Marmee biting her lip and walking from the room, Mr. Rogers encouraged children to pause and engage their rational faculty. The temptation will never go away, but with better attunement to oneself, constructing a life quiet enough to insulate against rage is possible. With practice, the habits of recollecting oneself in a moment of turmoil become stronger.
A marvelous illustration of the process of remembering oneself and maintaining composure comes from the little mother in A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Sara is only a child, but at the school of virtual orphans, she becomes the mother hen, looking out for the immature and needy girls. At a moment when she was engaged in reading, a frightful outburst interrupts her:
“She was so far away from the school-room that it was not agreeable to be dragged back suddenly by a howl from Lottie. Never did she find anything so difficult as to keep herself from losing her temper when she was suddenly disturbed while absorbed in a book. People who are fond of books know the feeling of irritation which sweeps over them at such a moment. The temptation to be unreasonable and snappish is one not easy to manage.
‘It makes me feel as if some one had hit me,’ Sara had told Ermengarde once in confidence. ‘And as if I want to hit back. I have to remember things quickly to keep from saying something ill-tempered.’”
Indeed, we all have to remember ourselves in such moments. Although the process never appears to be easy, the people around us are made the better by our efforts. The character of Marmee and the man Mr. Rogers attested to being angry every day of their lives, yet they are remembered as adults, parental figures that offered reassurance and inspired maturity in those around them.
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