In Defence of Anger

As I grapple with an inner tug-of-war about reasonable reactions to things, I have come to appreciate depictions of rage more and more, particularly when it comes to the deep wounds of trauma. Many of us who remain scarred by the harm incurred from the actions of others have to make tremendous, often invisible, efforts to mask anger so often triggered by any number of inconsiderate, rude, obnoxious, mean, nasty or thoughtless actions. It is all the worse when the behaviour comes from someone oblivious to their own effect on the people or environment around them. Then there's the self-doubt that you're being too sensitive or unreasonable. Minefield.

One of the things I have apprecated from my late-in-life Trekdom (it was bound to come up again - we're on season 4 of Star Trek: Voyager now) is the unapologetic grumpiness and anger from loner characters including the marginalized Klingons Worf (Michael Dorn; raised by humans and traumatized by the tragedies wrought by his own strength, grief and family dishonourment) and B'Elanna Torres (Roxann Dawson; half-human, half-Klingon whose father left because he reached breaking point with her and her mother's violent moods). 

These stories of adoption and mixed lineage are close to home in the Americanness of each actor, an African-American and a Latina-American, respectively. These issues being transposed to a different humanoid species in the future allows space to really play out the scenarios. And it is notable that the eventual spouses of each (I know I haven't reached that far in Voyager, but I know what happens!) are white people (Jadzia Dax [Terry Farrell] is Trill, but a white woman nonetheless) who connect with them quite literally (or holographically) on their battlegrounds, bat'leth in hand.

Tom (Robert Duncan McNeill) and B'Elanna argue

(There isn't much talk of cultural appropriation, largely because there wasn't much public debate about it at the time of production in the 1990s, and there's a lot of surgical switching between species I also still don't know what to make of, so I just enjoy the makeup and costumes for now).

During their strained courtship, Dax points out to Worf that he doesn't exhibit joy and a zest for life the way his birth people do, and it emerges that having lived most of his life around humans he had no choice but to learn and practise restraint following a fatal accident when he became overzealous during a sports match as a child. In The Next Generation he becomes more orthodox in his Klingon values, which carries right through his time on Deep Space Nine. Although he is prepared and willing to fight with the best of them, he prefers prune juice to blood wine and his own company to that of a crowd. 

Looking at this from 2021, it is easy to detect an 'angry black man' trope, but I think Worf's demeanour was constructed over the whole seven seasons of TNG and it is clear that he becomes angry and withdrawn because of the tragic things that happen to him and the challenges he faces. For example, his mate K'Ehleyr (Suzie Plakson) was murdered on the Enterprise-D and he was left to begin a tumultuous relationship with the son he just found out he had. Worf also carries unearned family shame surrounding firstly his late biologocial father and then his brother (I think his adopted human brother causes him some bother in TNG as well, and he's simply embarrassed by his loving, ever-patient adoptive Russian parents).

Torres's trauma also stems from childhood with similarities to Worf's issues. Raised in a mainly human colony, her mother was the only Klingon and Torres a rare and recognizable Klingon-human mix, which was regularly pointed out by teasing classmates. Where Worf channelled his anger into determined self-betterment - he was the first Klingon to enter and graduate from Starfleet academy - Torres took a different path. Although she had all the makings of a great engineer and athlete, she had no desire to control her rage and dropped out of the academy.

(Only the Klingon half of her gets any attention as if humans have completely evolved away from violence and anger, but I can't help wondering about that Latina side of her. Mind you, when she's split into two beings by the Vidiians, the human Torres is a bit of a nerdy scaredy cat, so perhaps we should let Star Trek off the hook for not making their Latine characters inherently angry and violent. Don't the plots sound bonkers when described like this?)

The anger exhibited by both Worf and Torres comes from a place of vulnerability clashing with strength. Looking for a fight, Torres joined the rebel insurgents the Maquis, whose cause evaporated when they were pulled to the other side of the galaxy (and the other cells come a cropper later in DS9 anyway). With no cause to focus her energies, and having no choice but to join Starfleet after all, Torres spends much of her time feeling like a caged wild animal. More so than Worf in DS9 (who, let's face it, runs back to the Enterprise at every opportunity for the movies), Torres does become a loved and valued member of Voyager's misfit framily, anger and all, which is affirmed when she learns and has to accept that they won't abandon her.

Beyond the special long-term friendships that form in a science-fiction television series, I don't know if that strength of bond also works in real life. Like everything, I suppose it does for some and not for others. But I wish we could talk more candidly as a society about people in pain not having the energy or the base levels of trust required to maintain a facade of niceness all the time. People are angry, often with good reason. And even if it's not the fault of the person on the receiving end of or bearing witness to rage, the anger is real and there and hurting. As I write this, I can think of justifications for and against public outbursts of anger. Some anger is from a cruel place of unjustifiable hatred and that is not what I mean, but, equally, who am I to gatekeep? Yes, a bit of a minefield, this one. I don't have any answers beyond knowing how I feel, and what I feel is rage and angst about so many things broiling under what I'm told is a calm exterior. I could do with a holographic bat'leth training program.