POV: woman with a compulsion for sweet vengeance learns that it is actually an addiction

Words by Kennedy Smith / Graphics by Levi LoCascio-Seward / Edited by Kennedy Levister

Revenge is an itching, nagging thing that hums really low in my stomach. It feels like a reflex, occupying where my intuition or gut instinct should be. Revenge feels ugly and shameful, but it’s tantalizing, powerful, full of lust. It is a rolling lava inside me that is constantly seething, whether I want to acknowledge it or not. I don’t need caffeine to energize me, what keeps me going is that someone might get away with something without hearing from me first.

I’ve never known myself to be someone who gets angry at others. I will turn silent before I yell. Maybe I’ll get annoyed, furrow my eyebrows, and say something bratty. I don’t punch or kick inanimate objects. I tried screaming alone in a car once, and it felt really awkward. So, no, I may not get mad, but I always, always, want to get even.

Can you blame me? It’s all over the media. If you search “revenge movies” there are articles that have sifted through thousands of movies to list their top 100. Every hero who retaliates, usually with violence, is given a solid reason as to why they simply have to retaliate. Sometimes, the main character tried to move on with their life, but felt like they were left with no other choice. Other times, revenge takes over from the moment of impact, and it was always the only way. It wouldn’t be cathartic if at the end of the movie the protagonist doesn't get back at the person/thing/system that negatively impacted their life and the lives of their loved ones. The main plot of the recent hit action film Monkey Man (2024) was that Kid, Dev Patel’s character, got revenge on the police chief for what happened to his mother and his town. I was exhilarated watching the movie: clasping my hands as I wished for him to take down every henchman that stood in his way, hoping that in the end he will get away with it all, learn to live a happy life and bury the “necessary evil” of revenge with the original sins committed by his perpetrator.

At the same time, the common sentiment in the media also seems to be that revenge may not get you what you are looking for, and it could actually make your life worse. Remember the Until Dawn (2015) survival game? Or The Incredibles (2004) movie? Look how it turned out for Syndrome. What he did was actually fucked up, and it sparked genuine fear in me as a child. So which one is it: is revenge badass, or is it the perfect way to be sucked into a jet propeller?

Maybe it’s how you get revenge. Perhaps being brazen is only for people willing to risk their lives. Iconic writer Fran Lebowitz, known for loving revenge, among a bunch of other things, has said, “Sometimes I’ve had revenge on people that I think they don’t know, and I think, are you wondering why you didn’t get that fellowship? Oh, I know why you didn’t get it.” Moreover, Lebowitz doubled down on her need for revenge, continuing to show that she might be me in 40 years, saying “You know, it’s always good. People are always saying it’s not good, the desire for vengeance is not a high human desire, but it’s very satisfying.” I’m a bit embarrassed to say that I totally agree with her. From my perspective, doing nothing, or even worse, being kind as a result of wrongdoing is not satisfying. Who’s to say your rude coworker would even notice that your smile or polite email response was your own version of getting back at them? There was no part of my spirit that was moved by Michelle Obama’s “When they go low, you go high.” When they go low, I sink like quicksand without a second thought, scrambling for anything to get back at them, whether it’s a smart comment or a four-step plan.

I learned recently that retaliatory acts, physical or psychological, set off the same pleasure centers as addiction (James Kimmel Jr., Science of Revenge, 2025). Most violent crimes are acts of revenge. The author, who recalls the exact day that his revenge addiction began (and it is harrowing, you need to listen to or read it), later became a menacing lawyer who chalked up his revenge to getting justice. I learned that even plotting revenge can count as a part of the addiction. Suddenly, and repeatedly, this book was calling me out in every conceivable way. Revenge completely takes over my mind and every thought, it’s not usually fueled by logic, and it feels out of my control in a satisfying, entertaining, and eventually sometimes shameful way. The planning, plotting, and scheming is what I resort to the most, as the quickest and safest option. Can a girl dream? It helps settle my pounding heart, like thinking of ways to scare off a loved one’s awful boyfriend behind her back, something on the level of the Parent Trap (1998) camping scene… maybe pretending to be possessed, maybe finding a way to put laxatives in his protein shake… no, that would be too hard, maybe creating a fake account and trying to catch him cheating?

This forced me to realize that I’m angry a lot of the time, and I often release this anger through my revenge addiction. I thought revenge and anger were separate, maybe cousins or in-laws. It’s funny and cool to get revenge, but if you’re angry, people look down on you, tell you that you need to get help, that there are other ways to express your emotions. Clearly, one isn’t better than the other, but for most of my life, I needed it to be. Being identified as “angry” was terrifying, especially in the pivotal years of middle school. I had to maintain the second class status of “Oreo” as I moved up the social ladder, sitting pretty behind the layered Hollister tops of the popular crowd, as I was gleefully known as the girl that the cute guys would kiss if they absolutely had to kiss a Black girl (the fucking horror). I didn’t know how to get revenge on the society that encouraged me to look like them. Not even on the classmates that always reminded me that I didn’t have, and couldn’t get, what they had. But, I could get back at my mom by quietly filling the dishwasher with dish soap, feeling certain that her distress over the appliance will feel the same or worse than how whatever argument we had made me feel. I could get back at my sisters by pretending they didn’t exist, not wanting to recognize the jealousy running through my blood at how they always seemed to get more attention from our parents than I did, so it was my job to show them just how I felt.

Over time, revenge became necessary for survival as a release from feeling out of control in the world, and without it, I felt destabilized. I couldn’t freak out on my close white friend in high school because she secretly pursued, and ended up with, the person she knew I had a crush on. Not unless I wanted to be excluded from gatherings and increase the degrees of separation between me and the boy I was infatuated with. It quickly got to a point where if I didn’t forgive this girl (who didn’t want to apologize btw), I would be the one ostracized from the entire friend group, so I was forced to not pursue any retaliatory action against her. The decision to opt out of revenge may have saved my other friendships (although damaged to this day), but did it save my soul? I think about that a lot. Obviously my soul is fine, that was dramatic, but I have found that I talk about that situation more than any petty act of revenge that I can recall. As someone who recognizes the piping hot window of revenge, I remember having to watch the window close, the warmth of what could have been sharply changing to the cold of what was— swallowing pain in exchange for acceptance. I was old enough to not attack the dishwasher again, and merely plotting wasn’t strong enough, so everything was bottled up. This moment strikes me as an example of my compulsion for revenge. It felt like (still feels like) because I didn’t get revenge, the rage inside festered into a monster that wanted to get revenge itself, on me. I still have dreams of betrayal in a similar fashion, but depicted as my other friends being the perpetrators. I recently had irrational bursts of fear where I felt like my sister should not be around my boyfriend at the time because she might also convince him to be infatuated with her over me. Vengeance was that addictive, that overpowering, that I still allow the absence of it to eat at me. Who's to say these symptoms would not be present even if I fought her in the cafeteria (which was the original plan and would have been a terrible idea for a multitude of reasons)? Perhaps I would have these dreams and be in the reality where I was expelled from school months before graduation. Most likely, I would be wishing that I would have just done nothing, just swallowed it, even if the mention of this girl by my other friends still makes me uncomfortable, and the attempts to befriend her again always fell flat because it wasn’t authentic.

When I literally searched “the science of revenge” for this article and found the book by the same name being released in just a few weeks, it felt like fate. The main point of this piece was to playfully talk about how revenge is good, actually. I’m still not completely convinced that it’s not, but when faced with the topic from a researcher, I saw it from a different perspective. As I go down the boiling rabbit hole of revenge every so often, I came to a similar conclusion as the book. I am not deranged for wanting to get back at someone every single time I feel disrespected. Am I cowardly? Maybe. Emotionally unregulated? Sure. In pain? Absolutely. I learned that for me, karma and I aren’t in the mentor/mentee sort of relationship that I thought. I started to wonder if my karma for wanting revenge to the point of it feeling uncontrollable is having defensiveness on standby, not knowing true peace in my closest friendships because I occasionally consider a made up scenario in which I will “have” to get back at them for something, and wiggling through negative interactions to find a way to fall victim. I think I’m waiting for someone to give me permission to be angry. Like how I wait for someone to give me permission to talk about my day or express how I am feeling about something. I am too scared to just be angry (not throwing a tantrum but processing in an appropriate way), let the emotion move through me and then away from me.

It’s still complicated for me though, because there are so many people that deserve to feel the way that they have made other people feel. People who cause anguish to many– who deserve to helplessly fall through a trap door like on Japanese game shows (at the bare minimum. I’m trying to not get too real in any of my examples). I mean, what or who would you get revenge on if you could? It’s probably understandable. There are so many things to be angry about: as a human, as an American, as a southerner in the U.S., as a Black woman. I want to get back at every white person that doesn’t move out of the way in the aisle or on the sidewalk, looking right through me. I want vengeance on every colonizer that trained my ancestresses and all of their descendants into losing their language, their names, the way their hair naturally flows out of their head. I want revenge against the society that taught my dad to be cautious of his own large stature and booming voice– I watch as he hunches over and speaks quietly, “politely”, when we’re not at home. I want a little retaliation on a good chunk of my friend’s exes, something sweet for each liar that refuses to get help and would rather try to ruin their partner's life.

I know at some point, plotting revenge will get old. Unless I become a housewife. In which case, I was literally born for this. I do want to find peace someday, letting minor things like someone’s trickery or a backhanded compliment slip right off my shoulders. For now though, if one more friend allows me to confide in them about a crush and then almost immediately pursues that crush behind my back, if one more guy does any of my friends wrong again, be prepared for something diabolical and calculated to be served to you, even if only in my twisted, slowly recovering brain. I think compassion and forgiveness, to a point, will help curb this compulsion for revenge. Taking more accountability might help, too. I’m not plotting psychological warfare on someone because I’m a Scorpio moon (although that makes all the sense in the world), I’m doing it because I have felt wronged by something and I am now in pain. I might still do it anyway, but at least I was aware and honest with myself, no longer shielding my pain with instant thoughts of vengeance. Rather than letting revenge take the wheel of my hurt, perhaps instead I will push it into the passenger’s seat, assess the situation for much longer than I usually do, talk it out, and reverse. Or shrug and stomp on the gas, idk.