My Name Is Emily

Earlier this year, we invited you to contribute to this blog by telling us what your name is. Tell us at contact@emigranttheater.org, and join our conversation. Emily Gunyou Halaas, who will portray Rachel Corrie, tells us her name.

My name is Emily. I was born two months early and didn’t see my mom for a week while she recovered in a different hospital. To calm my crying my dad would reach into the incubator, which was my home for the first month of my life, to rub the soles of my feet on his stubble. I have had several reviewers refer to my expressive feet. I have my dad to thank for that.

Then I got older— too fast— and, in a dark moment told my mom I thought I’d stop acting for a while. She told me that was the stupidest decision I could make, and here I am. I shouldn’t have lived and my mom gave me life. Twice.

I am an undercooked human. I am al dente.

I fall asleep easily, but I dream deep all nightlong. Vivid, grasping, unforgiving, sweeping dreams about anything and everything. I wake up with difficulty and never feel rested. I’m always tired from my dream world. Sometimes I wake up in the dark from a nightmare. I used to sneak into my parents’ bed, then I made a kitty cuddle me and now my husband kisses my temples and reassures me that we haven’t be annihilated by nuclear warheads. I only sort of believe him, but I’m glad for the kisses.

I worry about my family, my country, my health; I worry about sustainability of the planet, the dirty dishes, the daily genocides; I worry that I won’t serve my community to the fullest. When I wake up in the morning I eat peanut butter toast, drink Earl Grey tea and silently vow to approach every choice generously; to lead by example; to champion community with my art.

Henri-Frederic Amiel said, “Hope is only the love of life.” I vow to love life. And then I take a breath and vow it again.