Anger is usually judged by who is feeling it, not by what caused it, and Ebonee Grace's "My Anger" is built around that injustice. The speaker is a young woman whose fury is waved away before anyone has asked what it is about. The central idea is that dismissing someone's anger is itself a way of provoking it. The poem makes this point once in argument and once in form.
It opens with a question, "Why does my anger seemed to get reduced?", and the grammar is slightly off, with "seemed" where standard English wants "seem". Whether or not that was deliberate, it gives the line a blurted, unpolished quality, as if the question came out before it could be tidied. The verb "reduced" is also telling. The speaker does not say her anger is denied or punished, but made smaller, as though it were a quantity to be shrunk. The next lines give the shrinking in the voice of the people doing it: "Because I am woman / I'm overreacting / I'm at that time of the month / My hormones unbalance." The poem then turns to age with "Because I'm young / I am an insignificant child." Each insult is delivered as a reason, and the pattern of "Because… Therefore I have no right to be angry" imitates a logical proof. The poem lets the reader see how weak this logic is. Its premises are labels (woman, young), and its conclusion is a ban on a feeling.
Then comes the pivot, marked by "But": "But my anger is calculated / It is not hurried." The vocabulary changes completely. "Tantrum" belongs to the world of toddlers, while "calculated," "learned and studied" belong to the classroom and the laboratory. The speaker answers the charge of emotional chaos by claiming the opposite, a mind that has done its homework. Even the rhythm supports her. "It is not hurried" is a short, level line, and it sounds unhurried. There is no rhyme anywhere in the poem and almost no punctuation apart from the opening question mark. The lines are short, plain and mostly end-stopped, so the poem moves in a series of flat declarations, closer to someone laying out evidence than someone shouting.
The imagery is sparse. Almost nothing here can be pictured, with one exception. "The horrors of the universe" is a huge phrase, and its vagueness seems deliberate. The speaker doesn't list what she has seen, which suggests that her anger is aimed at something broader than any one incident, namely inequality, which she names directly a few lines later. The one clear figure of speech comes at the very end, when her anger is "fuelled." Fuel implies fire, and the metaphor is quietly cruel to the people dismissing her. If anger is a fire, being ignored is what keeps feeding it.
The repetition of "right" gives the closing section its force. "I have a right to be angry / I have a right to voice my opinion / I have a right to not stand for inequality" builds in three steps from the feeling, to the speech, to the action. The movement from private emotion to public stance is the poem's argument in miniature. Notice also that "you" appears only in the last two lines: "But yet you do not listen to my rights." Until then the dismissers were an anonymous "they" implied by the "because" lines. Now they are addressed directly, and the speaker's tone, though still controlled, becomes an accusation. The word "rights" has turned plural, and what began as a right to a feeling has become a set of entitlements that are being ignored.
The ending also loops back to the beginning. The poem starts by asking why her anger is reduced and finishes by stating that being unheard makes it "even more." The final line gives no resolution. The cycle the poem describes is still running when it stops, and the reader is left in the position of the "you" who has not listened.
This is what makes the poem worth reading. It is not subtle, but it is exact about how a particular kind of dismissal works. It shows that telling someone they are too emotional to be taken seriously is a way of avoiding the argument, and that the person on the receiving end is expected to stay calm while being told she is not.