Viral: Spreading Connection (without removing your mask)
I found myself face-to-weathered-face with a man I had passed dozens of times without ever seeing him. He was moving something in a shopping cart, I don’t remember what. He didn’t notice me approaching (or at least pretended not to), even though we were facing each other.
It felt like he was actively trying not to look at me, the same way I have done thousands of times with countless strangers. Maybe I was just projecting.
“Pardon me” stumbled out of my mouth, and my mind’s eye immediately rolled.
‘Pardon me?’ Really??
He seemed surprised, but attempted to keep his face neutral (his eyes gave him away).
I pushed through the British niceties and offered him some cold water. It was already getting close to 100 degrees that day, and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
He released a relieved smile and accepted.
“How many you got here?”
“Oh, it’s just two of us.”
I held out three more bottles – partially because I already had them in hand, but mainly because 12 fl oz of hydration isn’t enough for one person in that kind of heat, especially when you can’t escape it.
He expressed gratitude, and we both recognized that it was time for the interaction to pass.
“Stay safe, man. Good luck with the heat.”
“God bless you,” he said as I turned to leave.
“You too,” I called back instinctively, then quickly winced at the words. Not because I have a problem with blessings, but because it felt insincere to wish blessings on a homeless person without doing more to help them.
Ashamed, I didn’t look back.
That day, my husband and I spent an hour handing out cold water bottles to houseless encampments sprinkled throughout our neighborhood. Local activists had shared information via social media about the urgent need for water and shelter for our houseless community with the incoming heat wave, and told us where to take supplies.
Before COVID-19, I had been craving community service. The problem was that I never prioritized it. I’m not going to claim that the pandemic was the reason I finally stepped past inaction, but it was an undeniable catalyst for taking a critical look at how I used my time.
As 2020 raged on and people found themselves with more time (often unwillingly), connection began to spread. People had more space to reach out to one another. They finally paid attention to serious social justice atrocities, and fed themselves with overdue knowledge that tuned them into the needs of others.
Communities strengthened their resolve and communities suffered immeasurable loss at the microscopic hands of this invisible monster.
Division
COVID-19 has been a devastating global blow. Around the world we’ve seen and heard of immense suffering and casualties, caused both directly and indirectly by this new coronavirus. Many people who have caught it have suffered, many have died, and many are still to come as it exponentially spreads in silence.
Even those who have not come into contact with the virus have suffered. Businesses shut down, trade halted, and immigration and travel are a trickle of what they once were. People have been kept from their loved ones in the name of safety. Millions have lost their jobs, and countless are now facing the very tangible fear of losing their home, as well. People have been stuck at home with their abusers, those suffering from depression and anxiety have been trapped at home with dark thoughts, and hunger has become an even more familiar face across the states.
It has been difficult, to say the absolute least.
If the immediate effects weren’t enough, the long-term impact of this pandemic has the potential to be huge. We will feel the aftershocks of this economic earthquake for years to come, and the psychological and emotional effects have the potential to linger even longer. Research is just starting to uncover the epigenetic effects of major life events, and there is a chance that we could see the impact of this collective experience carry through the next few generations.
(Epigenetics is the relatively new study of how an individual’s environment and experiences can impact their genetic expression, and some of these effects have been found to impact subsequent generations. For example, someone who was exposed to air pollutants may experience changes in their genetic expression that may put their children or grandchildren at a higher risk of certain conditions or diseases.)
I promise I’m not trying to depress you! It’s critical that we all collectively acknowledge the suffering that has risen from this viral mess. And as disheartening and overwhelming as it is, this darkness is only one tiny piece of the story. Another perspective is much more uplifting.
Unification
I am terrible at keeping in touch. Truly. I’m inconsistent at texting (at best), even less reliable when it comes to calls, and most of my social media posts center around hobbies rather than my actual life happenings – I’m certain many can relate.
I say all this because as soon as the shelter-in-place request came through, I was video chatting with friends and family within a week. These are people that I love deeply, who I’ve been neglecting to reach out to simply because life “got in the way.” As soon as this virus hit, my calls and chats with loved ones increased I-don’t-even-know-how-many-fold! People that I may not have talked to for months (or even years) were scheduling group video chats and online games that I eagerly attended.
It has been so beautiful, and touching, and necessary.
This collective experience has connected (and re-connected) people in a way that I’ve never seen before. It has highlighted the human need for community, and served as a catalyst for outreach and support. People are having real conversations, not just the typical skim-the-surface touch-base that has dominated the everyday default.
The movement demanding long-overdue changes in support of equal human rights (and owed reparations) has seen a surge of grassroots support. People have banded together to uphold organizations, both local and national, and reclaimed their power to determine what their figurative coin supports. Many have taken action themselves, donating their time and effort to help uplift oppressed communities that have historically been silenced and ignored.
We are engaging with one another, sharing with one another, and supporting one another, all from afar (well, at least 6 feet).
How fucking incredible is that?
Before this pandemic, community engagement was rarely at the forefront. But, as the virus ravaged our social, political, and economic networks, we began to reevaluate our priorities. Our need for collective community care stood out in stark contrast to the backdrop of failed government support, and something began to blossom out of the stale concrete we had been living in.
We have reached out to one another as family, friends, and complete strangers, and began to understand what it really means to be a part of a community. The calls of organizers and activists who have been fighting these battles for decades were finally recognized by a broader public. We came together in a way that might not have been possible without a world-wide pandemic, forced to face our past inadequacies and find a deeper purpose.
Distributing cold water to houseless individuals during a heat wave felt meaningful in a way that I hadn’t experienced in a long time. I had purpose.
Looking back, I realize that I didn’t even ask his name.
I’m ashamed.
There is still so much work to do.