Scarlett Johansson popped up at the recent Women’s March on Washington—it’s been less than two weeks since the event, but I feel 15 years older—with a defiant message for the incoming administration, and daring new pixie cut, because cutting off all your hair is something you do to when you’re a) “fighting to make basic women’s health care available to all,” and b) getting a divorce.

That’s right: The star and her husband, French advertising executive Romain Dauriac, have announced they are splitting after two years of marriage. The couple has a young daughter, Rose Dorothy, who was born in 2014. This will have been marriage No. 2 for Johansson, who was briefly married to Ryan Reynolds before his reinvention as the tuxedo-arm that supports a beaming and pregnant Blake Lively, a union so brief that I had to Google it to make sure it actually happened. There’s something about everything that’s going on, something in the air in this current American political climate—and I’m sure Johansson agrees with me—that is putting personal heartbreak (e.g. divorce, bankruptcy, illness) into perspective. So Scarlett’s getting divorced again. And? So what? Doesn’t she—don’t we all—have more important things to worry about, like defending the Constitution and the rule of law? ScarJo thinks so:

And maybe that’s the silver lining here, something to consider in these uneasy times: Everything that used to be bothersome can seem like nothing, quickly. Problems are put into perspective; like when you have a sore throat but then you fall down a flight of stairs and break your arm, and the sore throat becomes the least of your problems. So I think this seems as good a time as any to mention the principle of self-care. Maybe it’s a new haircut. Maybe it’s walking away from a bad relationship. Or maybe it’s writing, or reading, a gossipy little piece about the same relationship on one of your favorite websites, just to give yourself a break.

At any rate, when Scarlett decides she’s ready to move on—that she needs a distraction—there are no end of adorable guys in pussy hats who I’m sure would be more than happy to see her through the end of the world (and who knows, maybe even make another baby to be named Blanche Sophia, so all the Golden Girls are represented in her offspring). As for the rest of us, we’ll just have to keep writing, and reading, about it, to find our own solace.





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