Recently, I decided to search my text archive for the expression “I can’t stand it,” which yielded numerous results. Among the recent irritations that come to mind, in no particular order, are: the phrase “clutching her pearls”; a fabricated story in a prominent magazine profile; a colleague’s passive-aggressive use of “anyway” in an email; a reporter’s coworker who alters two minor details in her articles to add his name alongside hers on the byline; David Beckham’s attempts to ingratiate himself with the royal family; Jimmy Fallon’s prominent features; the premiere of Russell T Davies’ show, “Tip Toe”; and the weather, particularly high winds.
Initially, I thought my frustration with these issues was merely a sign of aging. The abundance of content discussing menopause lately suggests that age can heighten feelings of anger, despite the topic still being somewhat of a taboo. However, it appears that my experiences are not isolated to women in midlife; rather, British women, in general, are angrier than their counterparts in other nations. A recent extensive survey conducted by a global health initiative, which involved 76,000 women worldwide and focused on their physical and emotional well-being, revealed that British women rank among the angriest in Europe—more so than the Germans, Swiss, French, and Dutch—and that this anger is increasing year by year.
Addressing this without invoking national stereotypes is challenging, particularly when considering that British women are reportedly angrier than the French. What about the Italians, who often seem quite irate? The only European women who surpass us in anger are the Czechs, Maltese, Greeks, Albanians, and Spanish, which leaves much to contemplate. A more insightful sociologist might examine the cultural norms of each nation to understand varying thresholds of anger. For instance, I have observed that certain familial disputes in the US may appear overwhelmingly angry to a British observer, yet are considered normal and quickly forgotten within various American subcultures.
In the UK, we have a penchant for holding grudges and find humor in complaining, which could explain our position at the top of the anger charts. Yet, can what is described as recreational anger truly be classified as genuine anger? The term “anger” may be too vague to convey the nuances of the emotions being experienced. For a more precise analysis, those conducting the Hologic Global Women’s Health Index survey would need to distinguish between feelings such as “seething resentment,” “mild irritation,” “long-standing grievances,” and the enjoyment derived from revisiting annoying incidents.
The implication is that British women may be less content than their European peers, but I would argue that using anger as a measure may not be the most effective method. I believe that boredom is a more reliable indicator of unhappiness than anger. Feelings of passive indifference, defeat, powerlessness, fear, and insecurity are significant issues. In contrast, anger can be both invigorating and entertaining. There are countless reasons to feel angry; many aspects of life are frustrating. While the survey did not gather data on the anger levels of British men, it is reasonable to assume they experience similar cultural pressures, with the added possibility that British women’s anger may often stem from interactions with British men. The persistence of anger in this country may be attributed to our tendency to maintain appearances while suppressing our true feelings.
What precisely is fueling this anger? The survey does not provide clarity, but it is unlikely to stem from geopolitical issues or economic concerns, even though those factors create a tense backdrop that exacerbates minor annoyances. For example, while I may be frustrated by rising interest rates, it is stepping on a Lego piece that truly triggers my outrage. I am concerned about the recent advances made by Reform UK, but that pales in comparison to the annoyance of someone persistently seeking my company after I’ve declined. The image of Meryl Streep laughing with Jenna Bush Hager also contributes to my frustration, as does the unexpected request for a favor from someone I haven’t seen in years. The list could go on indefinitely.
Emma Brockes is a columnist for The Guardian.
