Since COVID-19 broke out, I’ve noticed myself laughing less. Many of my friends have observed the same thing, saying things like “I’ve cried more than I’ve laughed this month.” Is the world less funny now? Or are people just too anxious to notice all the human absurdities that make living so hilarious? I suppose the less human interaction one has, the less opportunity there is to share a common observation about how ridiculous the world really is.
I’ve noticed a shift towards darker and more nihilistic humour among young people. I see social media comments joking about drinking bleach and friends laughing about how we’ve all fallen into depression and should really seek counselling. On top of that, the overarching sentiment that nothing really matters anymore imbues most conversations. Even comedy shows, like the Late Show with Stephen Colbert and the Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon have begun taping without an audience and lack their usual comforting laughter.
After a provincewide shutdown, increasing COVID cases and daily mortalities, as well as the uncertainties of the new COVID variants, it hardly seems like a time for humour. And as climate change is ever pushed aside by politicians and mass corporations, the future seems bleak. It’s as if the things that matter most to me (namely good health, which demands access to clean water, fresh air, and healthy soil) are in the hands of a greater force, without concern for the well-being of people or the planet. When I hear about anti-maskers and COVID-deniers, I worry that humanity will never have the empathy nor foresight needed to combat climate change. It seems as though people would rather live in denial than change the systems and ways of thinking that are destroying our natural environment.
Yet, amid this array of concerns and anxieties, a friend recently sent me a quote from Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre that gave me a moment of relief. It read: “I remembered that the real world was wide, and that a varied field of hopes and fears, of sensations and excitements, awaited those who had the courage to go forth into its expanse, to seek real knowledge of life amidst it's perils.” Brontë reminded me of all the experiences and revelations to come in my life, and of the friendships I have yet to forge. She shed light on the insights I will gain as I mature, read more, see more, and continue to engage with the world.
While the past few months have seemed like the closing chapter to an era of innocence and anticipation, I know that, in reality, they are merely part of a passing chapter. As much as life is less humorous than it used to be, perhaps we needed this somber and quiet time to address the many social and environmental issues at hand. As witnessed by the resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement during the summer, this pandemic has exacerbated the problems of racial injustice and caused higher unemployment among lower-income individuals. With time to air these grievances, society has come together to demand racial and economic equity, immediate climate action, and a more integrated health system. I hope this momentum continues, even after we have all been vaccinated.
Despite laughing less over the past few months, the conversations I share with friends have become increasingly profound and therapeutic. Whether it’s over Zoom or during distanced walks, these days, friends listen and appreciate having their concerns and anxieties reflected back to them through familiar faces. Knowing we are all going through these uncertain times together is comforting to say the least. So, as we try to make sense of this difficult chapter of humanity, we have an opportunity to learn from these troubling times and write meaningful future chapters. Chapters with comprehensive narratives, diverse perspectives, and cliffhangers that leave us excited for the rest of the story to unfold.
