We are in the Abyss

Content Warning: Spoilers for the movie The Abyss (1989) and strong language.

In high school, we watched The Abyss, a film that has woven itself into the fabric of my life. I’d seen it before, and I’ve watched it since; it has been a comfort, a thrill, and a sometimes haunting reflection of my own experiences.

The story begins with the mysterious sinking of a nuclear submarine. In response, the U.S. military enlists a team from a privately-owned underwater drilling platform, led by Bud Brigman (Ed Harris), to undertake the monumental task of recovery. As the narrative unfolds, it dives deep into themes of human conflict, the tantalizing possibility of communicating with “Non-Terrestrial Intelligence”, and the personal struggles of the characters—especially the turbulent relationship between Bud and his estranged wife, Lindsey (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio). The tension mounts as they face not only the treacherous depths of the ocean but also the psychological battles stemming from their pasts and the chaos unfolding around them.

As I revisited the movie this week, nostalgia washed over me, mingled with memories of my own turbulent high school days. As a military brat, I moved constantly, often feeling like a ghost in a small rural school where, for the most part, I was the only girl in my class. My male classmates were relentless, their cruelty a constant reminder of my isolation. To them, I became the Queen Bitch of the Universe, like Lindsey. They thought that was so funny. At the time, I felt the weight the injustice, but if someone dared to utter that name today, I’d likely respond with, “That’s quite a mouthful. Your Majesty will do fine.”

Later in the film, Bud and Lindsey find themselves in a life-or-death struggle where only one can survive.

Bud is already in his diving gear, so Lindsey, realizing they’re out of time, insists she can be revived if he acts swiftly. As water engulfs the compartment, Lindsey drowns, and Bud carries her lifeless body back to their crew.

This is where the scene below picks up. (Go ahead and watch it before continuing. It’s just over 3 minutes long.)

As I watched this moment unfold, a wave of recognition crashed over me. This is how I feel now.

Drowned.

Dead.

Cold.

It was my choice to engage in politics—to invest in people and outcomes—but it doesn’t make the weight of loss and setbacks easier to bear. (Not engaging didn't really seem like an option, either, so maybe it's just who I've always been).

I thought, too, of the people in my life who stand by me—my Buds—those unwavering souls who refuse to let me die even when I’ve let myself drown.

And then, I saw a reflection of our current predicament as a country, when Bud shouted, “God damn it, you bitch, you’ve never backed away from anything in your life, now FIGHT!”

As a nation, it would be all too easy to look at the state of things and accept that we are drowned, dead, cold. Without question, we are at a crossroads, facing a choice: we can either fight to revive the ideals of democracy and protect the vulnerable, or we can surrender to the icy currents of apathy and despair.

I’m all in on the fight.