⁠⁠I am angry

The daughters were never afraid. They were occupied.

By Corrinke August 29, 2026 2 min read

i am angry

in a way that has roots.

in a way that goes back centuries

before i was born.

in a way that knows the names of the women

who were burned for knowing too much,

who were locked away for feeling too deeply,

who were told their pain was hysteria

hysteria

from the greek

for uterus

as if grief was birthed in the womb

and not in the world that made it.

my anger

is not a malfunction.

my anger

is the most logical response

to an illogical amount of loss.

—

and still –

god –

and still –

i love being in this body.

i love the way fury feels

when it finally has a name.

i love the women who taught me

that play & ferocity

are not opposites –

that you can cry

& still be dangerous

that you can grieve

& still be standing

that you can be broken open

& that it’s not the same

as being broken.

—

corrinke

corrinke is a poet, story doula, and olympic weightlifter who believes gutwrenching doesn't have to be heavy. she writes about bodies, bloodlines, and the long work of returning to yourself — and occasionally lifts very large things as proof that the body remembers what the mind forgot. based in ericeira, portugal, where the atlantic is rude and she fits right in.

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