The Dance of Anger

Many people grow up learning that anger is ugly, dangerous, or something only rude people feel. This is especially true for women, who get the message that they should be patient, understanding, and always pleasant. Psychologist Harriet Lerner opens the book with the opposite view: anger is a signal, like a warning light on a car's dashboard, and ignoring it will not make the problem go away.

What she means is that anger warns you that something is wrong. It may be that your rights are being violated, that your needs are not being met, or that you are giving up too much of yourself just to please others. Listening to that signal is the first step toward deciding what to do.

That does not mean taking it out on the first person who walks by. The book separates feeling anger from acting out recklessly. Feeling it is legitimate and useful. The real question is what we do with it: swallow it, explode, blame, run away, or use it to get clear on what matters.

The metaphor in the title comes from family therapy. In any long-term relationship, people fall into repeating patterns, like the practiced steps of a dance. She asks, he withdraws. He complains, she goes quiet. Each person thinks the other is the problem, yet the movement depends on both of them.

Think of the classic couple's argument over the dishes. She brings it up in an irritated tone, he gets defensive and shuts down, she presses harder, and he shuts down even more. Days later, the same scene plays out in a different outfit. The topic changes, but the choreography stays the same, and nobody can change it by yelling louder.

The good news is that if a dance takes two, it only takes one person changing their step for the other to have to respond differently. That is why the book focuses on what you can change in yourself, rather than on how to convince the other person to change.

Broadly speaking, Lerner proposes three questions for when anger shows up. First: what am I really angry about? Often the surface irritation is about the dirty dishes, while the deeper issue is feeling alone in running the household.

Second: whose problem is this, and what is my part in it? Sometimes the problem belongs to the other person and I am getting overly involved. Other times, the issue is mine and I am dumping it on someone else. Third: how can I state my position clearly without attacking the other person or erasing myself?

These questions help cool down the moment. By answering them in writing or on a walk, we start to see that a lot of our anger comes from old hurts, requests we never actually made, and rules nobody ever agreed on. And we see that there is a way to talk about all of this without turning the conversation into a courtroom.