For many years, I was angry. I was so angry that it became one of the defining traits of my character, as my master’s advisor noted in the recommendation letter he wrote for me, describing me as “a pugilist with a mind that gives off sparks like steel on flint.” People often mistook my anger for courage, but it wasn’t bravery at all. It was anger. And it was corrosive. in my forthcoming memoir, I describe the final straw that broke the camel’s back of my anger, a fight I had with my boyfriend during which I behaved quite badly. That day, I finally just stood back from myself and watched in horror. What was I doing? What had I become? It had to stop.
