for Queer Ecologies
Rage
- The Lycurgus Painter, calyx-krater, ca. 350–340 BCE, The British Museum
There is a minor goddess in Greek mythology called Lyssa. Goddess of rage, fury, and rabies, she occupies a liminal space between civilization and the wild. Lyssa, seldom mentioned in mythological literature, seems fairly even-tempered for a goddess of fury, only reluctantly introducing rage into the house of Hercules.
Rage is embodied negation. It is affective, difficult to qualify in language, and therefore seldom valued (“I have no words. My shaking hands cannot express my fury.” —Derek Jarman, The Garden, 1990). But rage has a depth, breadth of hue—it can be aesthetic. Rage can be utopic, or apocalyptic, like wildfire exploding after years of suppression. Rage can be born from grief. It can lend unparalleled clarity and utter unintelligibility. If we let it, it can light our way through deep tunnels of hopelessness and despair toward jouissance.
Rage is an important affect as it relates to queerness and ecology, both of which confront violence and the threat of collapse. Rage can lead to beautiful ruptures like Stonewall, to the burning of the third police precinct in Minneapolis during the George Floyd protests, to acting up, bashing back, and to eco-sabotage. Rage can be contagious, suddenly blooming everywhere. In plant ecology, disturbance-adapted species are called ruderal species. These plants are weedy—after an environmental disturbance they are often the first to move in. Though their tiny seeds may go unnoticed, they initiate new landscapes.
Rage can be scary. It can go too far, becoming dangerous; rage is not inherently good. Although it is a part of us, it should not be fetishized. Fighting back against injustice is not safe, but it can be beautiful, and queer rage can be extra!
Rage forces us to consider alternatives, to change the current narrative.[i] What if Lyssa, daughter of Nyx, goddess of night (or in some stories, daughter of Gaia) became infected by her own rage? What if Lyssa went feral? [see ANASYRMA] What would a ruderal myth look like? Let’s write it together. I’ll start:
Mad with the grief of generations, at the continuous unspeakable loss around her, as she beats her breast and tears her hair, Lyssa’s queer rage is contagious. We feel it now too. May the weeds of her contagion spread.
[i]
Paul Kingsnorth and Dougald Hine call us to write new myths and tell new stories of uncivilization in their 2009 self-published “The Dark Mountain Manifesto,” accessed October 30, 2023, https://dark-mountain.net/about/manifesto/
nyla coleman with QuERC, 2023