I feel like I cry a lot lately.
I think I have to. I research and write plays about sexual assault, so I have to read, digest, analyze, and create material about a very difficult subject. I know more about exploitation, rape, and abuse than the average person and I started doing this work in the first place because people kept sharing their assault experiences with me. I host a lot of sad stories in my heart, so I can tell them with the care and commitment they deserve.
I’m glad I’m not numb. I’m glad I can feel the shock, horror, and sadness that come with empathizing with another human being who is both a victim of a crime and a survivor of violence and terror. An event that doesn’t even scratch the surface of their identity.
But if you’re reading this, you’re probably the choir I’m preaching to…
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