By Emily Park
Illustrations by Katelyn Betz

A few days ago I was sitting in my boyfriend’s kitchen, happily chatting about our day and plans for the weekend as he made dinner, when my phone buzzed. 

I picked it up and froze as I read the words in the headline from my news app notification: Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg dies at 87.

I don’t remember exactly what I said next, but I remember exclaiming very loudly and distressed that we—as in the United States, women, the LGBTQ+ community, people of color—were absolutely, 100 percent screwed. 

Then I proceeded to have a spiraling meltdown—trust me, my boyfriend can confirm—for the rest of the evening as I downed half a bottle of premade-Bahama Mamas and my mind ran through every horrifying scenario that the death of this national treasure could cause. 

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