Talking out anger is healthy

A friend of mine made me angry the other night. The details aren't important here, nor the reason why it wasn't appropriate to blow up in his face at the time.\nAt work the next day, I vented to my hapless co-workers and friends, telling the story and complaining. Partly I needed to let off steam, but I also needed the reality check: Did I really have something to gripe about? They listened patiently, bless them, and assured me that I wasn't crazy (at least not about this matter). By the next day, I'd settled down a bit and could think of constructive ways to try to fix things.\nStereotypically, men aren't supposed to talk about their emotions, or to want to. We are, or so I'm assured by the experts, "instrumental" in our relations with others, preferring to bond by playing video games together in silence except for grunts and farts. Women, stereotypically, are expressive: They want to chew over and digest everything that happens.\nI find that even people who are critical of sex-role stereotypes fall back on these. Maverick feminist Wendy Kaminer, for instance, likes to express her disdain for chatty women; why can't they be strong silent types, like men? (And keel over prematurely from heart attacks, as strong silent types too often do.) Jock sociologist Michael A. Messner, in his book "Power at Play: Sports and the Problem of Masculinity," warns repeatedly against forcing men into a "feminine model" by expecting them to talk about their feelings; but he admits, "I found that when they were given the opportunity, most of the men I interviewed were very open about their feelings." (These were athletes, remember, not Sensitive New Age Guys.) "I wish I could sit down with my wife and say the things to her that I have said here," one man told Messner wistfully.\nMaybe instead of forcing anyone, male or female, into a "masculine model" of emotional repression, we should respect individual differences, and even more, recognize that different cases call for different handling. Maybe some men (and some women) really aren't interested in nattering on about their feelings; fine. But some men (and some women) really find it useful to talk things out. Nor is this mere armchair Freudianism, an artifact of our hyper-individualistic talk-show society. One of William Blake's "Songs of Experience," "The Poison Tree," begins, "I was angry with my friend; / I told my wrath, my wrath did end. / And I was angry with my foe: / I told it not, my wrath did grow." That was published in 1794, when Oprah wasn't a gleam in anyone's eye.\nEveryone already knows this on some level, I believe. Nobody really thinks that women never lose their tempers, or that men never talk about their feelings. I'm not sure that we look so different from outside, because women commonly talk while they're working together, just as men do. If men don't speak freely about their feelings in front of other men, it may be partly from lack of practice, and partly because they have to test the waters for a while to make sure no one's going to yell "faggot!" at them for showing their hurts and tenderness.\nAs a gay man, I have both options available: I can explode into rage like a Manly Man, or process my emotions all the livelong day. Somewhere in my growing up, I got the idea that getting angry was in itself dangerous, destructive and violent. That's a self-fulfilling prophecy, which produces men who can only express their anger explosively, or women who let it slip out through acts of passive-aggression, denying it all the while. I still feel a little twinge of relief when I find that my anger hasn't blown up the world.\nIn this case, talking out my anger was a good idea. I sorted out why I was upset, why my friend's behavior hurt me and what I wanted to do about it. There was a great feeling of relief when I felt that I'd emerged on the other side of the anger, so to speak: like walking onto cool grass after crossing a bed of hot coals. I'm not saying it would be the same for everyone -- that's the point. But it worked, this time, for me.