Woman in the rage room - Necessary Salt by Joy Sullivan

I’m a pretty gentle human. I’m good with toddlers and animals and old people. As a kid, I’d pry songbirds out of my cat’s mouth. I still cry when I break a wine glass, and I write poems people sometimes call tender on the internet. I’m soft and sweet and occasionally funny, and apparently, I’m also full of rage. Recently, I visited a “rage room.” Normally the idea of smashing glass objects with a baseball bat wouldn’t appeal to me, but when I heard that 70% of rage room customers were women, I was intrigued. I’m also currently writing a series of essays on Substack (see Woman in the Botox Chair, Woman on the Internet) about complicated experiences in unexpected spaces and Smash PDX Rage Room felt like the perfect place to do some research. Upgrade to paid It’s 1pm on a mild-mannered Wednesday, but my friend Sara and I are donning face shields, long-sleeved jumpsuits, and gloves. We sign a waiver, select a Beyonce-heavy Spotify playlist called “angry rage mix,” and laugh nervously as we

I’m a pretty gentle human. I’m good with toddlers and animals and old people. As a kid, I’d pry songbirds out of my cat’s mouth. I still cry when I break a wine glass, and I write poems people sometimes call tender on the internet. I’m soft and sweet and occasionally funny, and apparently, I’m also full of rage. Recently, I visited a “rage room.” Normally the idea of smashing glass objects with a baseball bat wouldn’t appeal to me, but when I heard that 70% of rage room customers were women, I was intrigued. I’m also currently writing a series of essays on Substack (see Woman in the Botox Chai