Well, Hello There. It’s Me. Angry Black Lady.

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Personal Tales

Well, Hello There. It’s Me. Angry Black Lady.

Imani Gandy

In which I introduce Rewire's latest venture: MY BLOG.

Do you love Rewire? Do you frequent the website to find the latest breaking news about reproductive rights and justice, and The Man™’s general efforts to keep you down?

Do you relish the brilliant commentary, the well-researched analyses, and the breaking news but find yourself wishing there were more cat GIFs?

Well, I’m Angry Black Lady, and I’m here to help. Some of you already know me. Some of you don’t. And some of you will regret the day you ever heard my name. (Well, that’s probably not true, but didn’t that feel nice and dramatic?)

But first, let’s address the question that is on everyone’s mind. Well not everyone’s. But yours—probably.

I know a lot of you are probably thinking to yourself, “What are you so angry about?” Well, everything, really. But that’s not why my blog is called Angry Black Lady Chronicles. I have a pituitary tumor, you see. (Some of you may know this already, if you’ve followed my rantings and ramblings about this country’s craptastic pre-Obamacare health-care situation.) And that pituitary tumor causes my hormones to wildly fluctuate like—like—like something that fluctuates wildly. And so when I was first diagnosed, I would find myself getting inexplicably angry about the most mundane things. I even punched a suitcase once. It wouldn’t close, so in a way, it was asking for it. But I’m not a violent person and I don’t believe that assaulting luggage is a sensible way to live one’s life.

So I figured the best way to focus my hormonal rage was to start writing. And so I did.

I’ve come to realize, however, that I probably wasn’t angry just because of my hormones. After all, my tumor symptoms are mostly under control, and I’m still angry about a lot of stuff. I mean, look around—aren’t you angry? Poverty, injustice, police brutality, racism, misogyny, assholes on the Internet, people selling gluten-free veganic sprouted Ancient Maize like it’s something other than fucking cornflakes. And what the hell does “veganic” mean anyway? VEGANIC ISN’T A WORD.

There’s a lot to be angry about, is what I’m saying.

When my blog was self-published from 2009 to 2013, I was able to find ten or so bloggers and writers who were also angry to join and be angry with me, even though most of them were neither Black nor ladies. It was a veritable angrypalooza.

So it was then and so it shall be here. I’ll be writing, but down the road other Rewire staff people will as well, and not all of them will be Black or ladies. Some of them might not even be angry!

We’ll write about whatever suits our fancy. Of course there will be a heavy dose of “Can you believe this anti-choice shit?” But there will also be personal anecdotes, listicles, self-care tips, and whatever else we feel like writing about at any given time. The world is our oyster! (I don’t really understand that idiom—I never have. Wait, I just Googled it—I get it now. Isn’t it weird how in the Internet age it’s pretty much unacceptable to claim to not know what something means? Unless you have no fingers. (No offense to people without fingers.))

But I digress.

Anyway, it’s all very exciting and new—not unlike the Love Boat—so come aboard! We’re expecting you! Just sit back, crack open a cold can of awesome, and watch this space, because no matter what sort of anti-choice, anti-women, anti-people shenanigans are afoot, and no matter how tirelessly The Man™ works to set up a tiny government in your nether-regions, we will be here to say:

fuck this cat

So with more ado than was probably necessary, I’d like to announce that Angry Black Lady Chronicles is back, y’all!

You’re welcome.