Pollice Verso

A choice I will most probably come to regret. My simple selection is not the popular one. I can see it in the eyes of those around me.

Some are widened in shock that I would risk so much to make this choice. Some are gawking in surprise since nothing in my previous behavior gave a hint of my intention. Some are narrowed in speculation that there is more here than meets the eye and they have somehow missed it. Some are crinkled in amusement that I would take such a foolish step.

And one pair is glaring at me in fury that I would embarrass him before his compatriots and flaunt my ingratitude and impertinence to him, my autocratic husband.

I can’t explain what came over me.

Until that moment, I had been the perfect wife. I managed my husband’s household, ensuring everything was done to his satisfaction. His mind was free from the daily minutiae of his home life so he could devote his energies to advancing his position within the higher echelons, those powerful men in control. I did my job so he could do his.

I never questioned my role, it was what was expected for the good of our family. In return, he provided me with a comfortable life, his sons with education and opportunities, and our family with wealth and respect in our community.

Why would I risk losing that?

But a feeling had been slowly growing within me, a small suspicion that this life we were leading did not have the meaning it was meant to have. We had grown greedy for riches and admiration, to be the envy of our neighbors. A feeling of trouble to come from this behavior was creeping into my being. Our treatment of those less fortunate than ourselves emphasized our superior attitudes and apathy for their struggles and needs. We had developed a disregard for humanity. Our complacency would have a price to pay.

I cannot, on my own, do much to counteract generations of privilege and callousness, but today as I watched the spectacle before me, my disgust and shame rose and I felt I must do something, if only a token protest, to express my opposition to this display.

As the contender stood triumphant above his prone and bloodied opponent and looked to the throne for his cue, the emperor scanned the Colosseum and the cheering citizens. Almost as one, each thumb rose decisively, thrust skyward to indicate a vote for death.

I extended my arm and emphatically folded my thumb down over my fisted fingers.

I voted for mercy.