Dear Michael Jackson,

Thanks for writing ‘Beat It’. It sparked a flurry of several furious pages, which I’ve now fine-tuned into this letter.

The other day, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I wasn’t having a bar of it, yet thought documenting my morning would help. It didn’t. 

8am: I had a dream that a guy I’m not even seeing cheated on me. 

9am: I wasted an hour on TikTok and achieved nothing. 

9.15am: Started a note called ‘I AM ANGRY’.  

9.20am: I’m fuming. Internally; mad. Externally; on a walk to get a coffee. A mocha, actually, because chocolate is the key to my heart. 

9.30am: Currently listening to my favourite playlist of the moment; ‘watch out I’ll ghost you.’ Is it designed for spooky season? Maybe. But it’s also a great backing soundtrack for when you’re pissed off. 

9.40am: My mocha turned into a hazelnut latte from Blank Street. Sue me. It tastes like how Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter sounds. 

9.45am: I replied to an email while listening to Insane in the Brain. It felt weirdly intoxicating and productive. 

9:55am: I stumbled across a picturesque street that temporarily calmed me down. Then, upon admiring its colours, a pang of fury hit me again–like the street’s vibrancy was taunting me with its cheerfulness.

10am: Your song, ‘Beat It’ began blasting through my headphones. Big side eye, but also, real. Sometimes it doesn't matter who's wrong or right. 

10:20am: I bought a £3 denim skirt from a charity shop. A little retail therapy never hurts. 

10:30am: Ranted to a friend over the phone for an hour in the kitchen while making a chocolate tahini porridge with blueberries. I devoured it and she got two words in. 

12.00pm: I addressed my problem. Felt slightly relieved, but still not better

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24 hours later, at work, I thought I’d slightly calmed down, but my coworker caught a hint of vigorously as I forcefully stamped cupcake boxes.

“Letting out that anger?” 

It was unserious, but my mood was clear. 

“I have been kinda angry the last few days,” I said, the words tasting slightly stale as they left my mouth. 

Anger is an emotion I’ve always had a hard time with. I’ve always perceived it in a bad light; uncontrollable, hot-headed, boisterous. 

Growing up, I was praised when I was calm or grounded. In school, it was the reactive kids that got reprimanded. The consistent portrayal of anger as negative in the media added to the idea that being angry is wrong.  

Honestly, your song discourages being “a macho man,” when there’s “fire in your eyes,” – so not to call you out (or endorse violence), but you do kind of contribute to this. Firstly it reinforces the classic, masculine violent image of anger, and secondly, suggests we should just ‘beat it’ and suppress those emotions altogether. This may seem like an unnecessarily in-depth analysis of a banger, but it does contribute to overly simplistic depictions of anger.

I’m good at crying – releasing my emotions and letting go. When I can’t, that’s much scarier. There’s a frustration festering and I’m unable to relinquish the tension. It just feels like pressure upon pressure. And not the kind that makes diamonds.

image: @neilkrug

The aggressive, blaming, and fiery portrayals of anger don’t resonate with me, as I typically become silent, distant or cold. Rather than reckless, I’m restless–agitated with thoughts running through my mind and concerns building up. I get fed up easily, become self-critical and extremely impatient. These traits (and so many others) are still expressions of anger—maybe less obvious, but no less significant. 

Unregulated anger can be scary due to its intensity, but repression isn’t the answer, or emotions may cascade like a volcano–eventually erupting. Only when you embrace anger's dynamics and acknowledge its existence can the underlying frustrations be revealed. 

I read Elise Loehnen’s substack on ‘The Codes of Anger’ and her description of anger as, “both weird and also good—vital, in a way,” portrayed exactly how I felt. So, when I allowed myself to be mad–the root of my anger clicked and everything made sense.  

I’ve recently been grappling with a situation that’s raised concerns about unfair treatment. Instead of assessing it on its own merits, I’ve been comparing it to a toxic experience from my past, projecting unresolved feelings and allowing anger to resurface where I see parallels. Part of the reason I’ve struggled with this is that I typically categorise past triggers as positive or negative. Happy or sad–leaving no space for anger.

Dr Stephen Porges's Polyvagal Theory explores this concept. When the nervous system senses a situation that evokes feelings of trauma or stress, it can trigger a fight-or-flight response. I’ve found myself in both of these situations. I think an argument with either of my siblings is probably the best example. Either, I walk away knowing I need space from them before I say something I regret, or I react by taking a dig back. 

His research also explores how we are “prone to acting on past feelings of danger rather than our present realities,” if our anger is unregulated. Take someone who’s been cheated on in the past. They might find themselves lashing out or defensive when dating, even if there’s no immediate threat. It’s a reaction based on previous trauma, not the actual situation. 

Psychiatrist Judith Herman agrees that anger can often feel dangerous, overwhelming and scary, especially when past triggers are involved. But despite its challenging nature, she emphasises understanding it is one of the most powerful tools in processing emotions, setting boundaries, advocating for oneself, and ultimately, finding peace. Lessons I came to terms with after a hefty week of writing, ranting, and going on several walks listening to rave or meditation music (yes, both are extremes). 

Anger is a response to feeling unfairly treated, having our values threatened, protecting our inner circle or sensing that our boundaries or sense of justice are compromised. That jeopardy makes you feel charged and can inspire reflection, action and a new direction. If channelled healthily, being outraged can have positive outcomes.  

A story I laugh about is when I cut my hair short and dyed it blond. Soon after my haircut, I went on a date with a man who originally met me with longer, more caramel-brown locks. When he asked if I got a haircut, I confirmed it, and he replied “I don’t like girls who frequently change their hair.”  He continued to share his desires for a stay-at-home wife and views against tattoos “unless you’re in a gang”. 

“I made focaccia and he said he doesn’t eat bread often cause his favourite fucking meal is unseasoned chicken and rice,” I vented to a friend, relaying our date and his other unsolicited comments. Even though his words made my eyebrows furrow and eyes twitch, they consolidated qualities I value in a romantic partner. I’m someone who values openness, independence, creativity and good food–so while Mr. Chicken and Rice may have made the shredding cut, he didn’t when it came to my dating standards. 

my blonde *changing my hair frequently* era

Being disgruntled has encouraged me to shift gears. I remember hating my science degree because I found it methodical and sterile (shocker), so I transferred to a degree in media communications. Another time, I left a job where I was frustrated by the lack of growth and joined a company that offered more autonomy and progression. Understanding where the agitation stems from, can be a powerful motivator and catalyst for change. 

So, Michael… I don’t think we should just “beat it”. We need to sit with our anger and get comfortable with it. It’s uncomfortable, yes, but it’s not harmful. It’s part of life–and can lead to significant growth. 

I will give you credit, where credit is due. I’ve been listening to your Spotify radio station more than I’d like to admit, and your song did sneak a smile on my face during what was a rather attitude-driven angry girl walk. You got me there.

xx Mandy