Whats Rage got to do with it?

This week I went to a talk called “Female Rage and Psychotherapy.” And without diving too deeply into whether that label is problematic (felt slightly controversial), we’re just going to roll with it for the sake of this post.

When my friend asked if I wanted to go, I immediately said yes. I’m interested in women, I’m interested in anger, and if psychology is involved, I’m definitely interested.

We arrived and took our seats in a room full of women as the psychotherapist leading the talk began explaining what’s meant by “female rage.” In psychology, this term often refers to the anger women experience in response to chronic invalidation, powerlessness, oppression, gender-based trauma, and the ever-present expectation that women should be gentle, accommodating, and self-sacrificing. It also shows up after long-term emotional suppression.

It’s not a clinical diagnosis, more a contextualised emotional response that acknowledges how social norms shape the ways women learn to express (or not express) anger.

As the talk went on, the psychotherapist began speaking about her own experiences of anger, the physical rushes of adrenaline and cortisol. Yep, all familiar. She even mentioned research about how suppressing anger can contribute to inflammation and hormonal changes linked to higher cancer risk. That got everyone’s attention. As someone with an autoimmune condition literally triggered by inflammation, this felt very relevant.

Then she shifted toward talking about how she copes with her anger: screaming into a pillow, leaving the room, belting songs in the shower. And while I understood what she was trying to convey, releasing pent-up physical energy, I found myself cringing in my seat. It didn’t feel like empowerment. It felt like: “Express your anger… but do it quietly, out of sight.” Which to me sounded suspiciously like… well, oppression.

Even though parts of the talk didn’t sit well with me, it did get me thinking: What do I actually do with my anger? What would I say to a client who feels this way? Where does compassion fit in? And how exactly does this type of anger differ from “regular” anger?

Women are often discouraged from expressing anger directly. They’re socially punished for assertiveness, pushed to internalise frustration (which becomes anxiety, guilt, or shame), or taught to express anger indirectly through crying, withdrawing, or self-criticism.

So, how does this “female anger” show up?

It might look like internalised anger—self-criticism, guilt, rumination, or psychosomatic symptoms like tension headaches or exhaustion. It could look like snapping after weeks or months of “holding it all together.” The anger might seem disproportionate to the trigger, but that’s only because it’s been building inside for so long.

We might see irritability, emotional sensitivity, or feeling constantly on edge. Anger may be triggered by small things simply because the stress load is so high. Some women struggle to set boundaries, which leads to quiet resentment from constantly meeting others’ expectations. And then, of course, there’s shame. Shame for being “too much,” “not feminine,” or heaven forbid, “unladylike.” Shame that shows up after an outburst, even when the anger is justified.

In Compassion Focused Therapy (CFT), anger isn’t framed as negative—it’s seen as a normal, protective emotion. “Anger is your nervous system signalling a boundary has been crossed.” You’re not wrong or bad for feeling it. Reframing anger this way helps us see it as human and understandable rather than shameful.

So what does this actually look like in practice?

I once worked with a client who was expected to cook a full Sunday roast every week for her children and their families. She loved them deeply and didn’t want to upset anyone, but she dreaded Sundays. She told me weekly, “I just feel so anxious all the time and I don’t know why.” As we explored it, we uncovered decades of expectations placed on her simply because she was a woman, a mother, a grandmother. She was terrified of expressing that she didn’t want to do it anymore. What would everyone think? As we worked together, she began to recognise the anger beneath her anxiety. Anger about constantly meeting expectations without ever being allowed to voice her needs. For her, it manifested as anxiety, shame, and self-criticism for even thinking she didn’t want to keep doing it.

So what can we do?

We can learn to activate our soothing system. Anger and anxiety are triggered when our threat system is chronically switched on. Practicing soothing rhythmic breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system, helping soften intense emotional responses. We can begin challenging our inner critic and replacing it with a more compassionate inner voice, one that reduces the internalisation of anger rather than fuelling it.

We can reconnect with our values by asking ourselves, “Why is this boundary important to me?” And from there, we can start setting boundaries with warmth and clarity instead of fear.

We can integrate anger into our emotional identity. Through self-compassion, women can begin seeing anger as protective, informative, rooted in values, something that says we want respect, autonomy, fairness.

Anger isn’t bad or shameful. But one thing the psychotherapist was absolutely right about: when we keep swallowing it, when we internalise it and turn it against ourselves, it really is killing us.

It’s time we stop being quiet about it.