Dear friends, what can we as parents do when the world seems to be getting more and more chaotic? How can mums and dads instil courage in the next generation? Natalie Klüver has written a powerful appeal to mothers in „Be brave, especially now“, encouraging them to give their daughters a better future and setting out what gives women strength in difficult times.
In eleven emotional letters, Nathalie Klüver writes to her, your, our daughters. She shares what many parents feel: fear and anger in the face of the crises of our time – but also hope and strength. Her new book translates world events into the personal sphere, combines facts with social analysis and offers concrete inspiration for everyday life. For example, how female anger can turn into confidence – and how we can equip our children with a strong mindset.
It is not a lament about the state of the world, but a new beginning to show what courage we can instil in our daughters. Alongside the letters to her daughter, Klüver provides context – honest and emotional, topical and relevant. With facts, historical context, current psychological studies and practical tips. Inspiring and empowering for anyone who wants to give the gift of a future. We are pleased to publish her mother-daughter letter on the subject of anger here.
Be brave, especially now!
My dear J.,
I admit it: your anger sometimes presents me with major challenges. When it bursts out of you – the intense rage, the feeling of being treated unfairly. On some days, it’s almost like a volcano, an emotional storm that sweeps me up too and sometimes leaves me feeling helpless. When you scream and cry, letting all your feelings out, I sometimes have to take a deep breath and collect myself. Yet I know that it’s good to let the anger out. To feel it, rather than gritting your teeth and turning the aggression inwards.
That’s why I hope you can hold on to your anger. I hope you allow yourself, even when you’re older, to be angry and to let that feeling be. Don’t make the same mistake I did.
You see, I’ve learnt to suppress my anger. To turn it into sadness, or into anger at myself, which I quietly bottle up inside. Until the cup runs over, and the tears start rolling and won’t stop. Or else I turn into a passive-aggressive shrew who keeps this up until the other person (usually your stepdad has to take the flak) loses patience and gets angry with me. The pattern behind it is this: I make him so angry until he makes me angry and I can finally let my real feelings out.
Sounds complicated and terribly awkward? It is, believe me. It takes an incredible amount of energy. And it frays the nerves of everyone involved. Not recommended for imitation, that much is clear.
You’re wondering why I don’t just allow myself to be angry straight away? Out of fear of not being liked or of upsetting the other person. It’s not worth spoiling the good atmosphere just for that, I tell myself.
Or I’m afraid the others might think I’m bitchy or complicated. And who wants to be bitchy and complicated?! So I swallow my feelings. But trying to suppress feelings is pretty pointless. Because then, at some point, they burst through with full force and can no longer be controlled. And certainly not channelled in a constructive way. It’s like cooking pasta: if you don’t lift the lid every now and then and let the steam escape, everything boils over and you have to clean the whole hob afterwards.
I wasn’t always like this. I still remember how, in Year 5, I slapped my annoying neighbour in biology class because he just wouldn’t stop talking and I couldn’t hear the teacher. She, however, didn’t approve of either my reasoning or the slap and gave me a detention. Okay, the slap was probably really not on. But that was one of the last times I expressed my anger in public. I’ve learnt that angry women are seen as bitchy. And being bitchy isn’t something to aspire to.
So I reserve my outbursts for the truly extreme breakdowns – which are sometimes triggered by something trivial, the proverbial straw that breaks the camel’s back. Then I really lose it and there’s no stopping me.
You’re really good at losing your temper too. That’s perhaps what we both still need to work on: transforming our anger into something productive instead, expressing it in a ‘socially appropriate way’. But I’m optimistic that we can manage it. What I definitely don’t want, however, is for you to suppress your anger. For you to ignore it. Or, like I do most of the time, turn it into sadness. Never forget how to feel your anger and address the reasons behind it.
My dear J., you’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to be a bit of a pain. Because anger shows you what’s important to you. Anger is a signal that something’s going wrong. That there is an injustice. Or that one of your needs is being disregarded. Anger is a kind of inner fire: if you learn to deal with it, this fire can warm you – and give you the energy to change the things that annoy you.
There are many reasons to be angry. Personal reasons, but also societal ones. You can set boundaries; I’ll tell you more about that elsewhere. If you’re angry about injustices or wrongs in the world – and believe me, there are sadly more than enough of them – then your anger is the driving force for change. There are no revolutions without anger. Putting your frustration and the injustice into words and voicing your anger about it is the first step towards changing things.
And you know what, my dear J.? Anger isn’t just a signal; it can also be a source of strength. You know this yourself – that strength you suddenly have in a fit of rage, don’t you? When you effortlessly throw things about that you’d otherwise struggle to lift? Instead of using that energy to destroy or throw things about, you can use it to set clear boundaries, in a peaceful way.
But that doesn’t mean you have to be any less angry! Just: socially acceptable. (The slap I gave my neighbour in Year 5 wasn’t exactly that.) Anger can help us see clearly what really matters. Provided, of course, that we aren’t blinded by it. Anger that is felt and lived loses its destructive power and opens the way for something new.
For you, my darling, that means, for example: if you’re so furious that you feel like smashing something, then pause for a moment and breathe in and out. And then, for all I care, punch a pillow, but not your brother’s stomach. Think about how you can transform this energy that the anger triggers in you into something else. Perhaps into a picture or a story? Into a piece of music? Sit down at the piano and bang the keys really loudly, or grab your pencils and start drawing wildly. Let the anger out by transforming it into something creative and new.
And don’t let anyone convince you that women always have to be gentle like the princesses in fairy tales, for example like Cinderella, who endures all the humiliations from her stepmother and sisters without complaint. I’ve never liked these fairy tales, because what they tell you about being a girl isn’t what I wanted for my life. The role models in these fairy tales would have us believe that we mustn’t rebel, that we should be well-behaved and modest, and that then the prince will come, choose us and make us happy.
These are old stories that have been told to us women for centuries to keep us down. Most of them were made up by men. It is time to do away with these outdated ideals and stand up confidently for our needs, our rights and justice. Even if that means getting really, really angry sometimes. We aren’t responsible for making sure everyone is happy, and we certainly don’t always have to be sweet and nice. Remember: not every bit of anger needs to explode, but none of it should be stifled.
With love,
your Mum
