Numb.

By Emmy Serviss / Boston

Yesterday I was attending an improv festival and laughing with friends I haven’t seen since 2019.

Today I feel numb.

Yesterday I was enjoying a drink with fellow improvisers and celebrating our wonderful community.

Today I feel numb.

Yesterday I felt optimistic that maybe the world was starting to heal again, and things would get back to “normal” soon.

Today I feel numb.

Yesterday I thought I was lucky to live in America. Land of the free, home of the brave and all the beautiful idealism of the American Dream. Now I know that it’s bullshit.

America is only free to those who can buy it. Home to only those who were brave enough to be born into privilege. And I’m still waiting for that American Dream to trickle down to the middle and lower classes.

After nearly 40 years of having the rights to my own body, those rights have been taken away while I was sleeping. They were taken away by people who swore under oath that they would not take away those rights. They were taken away by people who promised that their religious views would not influence their decisions in court.

They lied.

They lied.

THEY LIED.

I feel a rage deep in my blood that I can’t describe. I don’t understand how these people can hold some of the highest offices in our country, look us straight in the eye and make empty promises that they never had any intention of keeping.

Apparently, the separation of church and state doesn’t mean the separation of the church from the state. It means that church and state, hand in hand, are kept separate from everyone else to hide their cozy arrangement.

I feel wave upon wave of anger mixed with validation when I think of everyone in 2016 who said that we were overreacting at Trump’s election.

This is why we were upset.

This is why we panicked.

This is why we cried helpless tears.

We saw this coming a mile away. We weren’t overreacting. We weren’t being irrational. We weren’t being emotional. We saw the writing on the wall the minute Trump’s trio of justices were sworn in.

I want to scream at everyone who didn’t listen to us in 2016. I want to cry in the arms of the women who in the 1970s, fought for us to have rights to our bodies. I want to beg forgiveness of the little girls watching all of this unfold, knowing they will have to fight the same fight as our mothers.

But I can’t do any of that today.

Because today I feel numb.

---

Emmy Serviss is a Boston-based writer, actor and video editor. Once it is safe to return to live theater, you can find her performing with ComedySportz Boston and the sketch group SUZZY. When not on the stage, Emmy enjoys indulging in her new pandemic hobbies, laughing way too loudly and counting the days until Halloween.