Living with Two Pandemics
How Can Our Vulnerability Make Us Better?
By Imogen Davis, SCC Consultant
Strategic planning, program evaluation, project management, community collaborations, grant writing, data analysis
I was talking with a friend recently when she asked predictably, but with authentic concern, “How are you?” “Fine,” I said. In that moment I was feeling pretty upbeat. And then, in a flash, into my mind came riots, disease, 1 of 4 people out of work, and all the unprecedented challenges we’re facing at this time. So I paused, and re-calibrated my reply, ”Well, hanging in there anyway.” “Yeah,” she sighed, “I don’t even know if it’s a good idea to ask the question these days: pandemic, depression and recession, police brutality, and the murder of George Floyd—how are we supposed to ‘be fine’ when it feels like so much that we have taken for granted (our relative safety) is slipping away?”
It takes a toll, and for me, I feel that’s right—it should take a toll. To brush it off with a “try to stay positive” attitude feels irresponsible. I feel I should take responsibility for my part of all this: do the things within my control, take an actively anti-racist stance, responsibly physical distance, give to causes I believe in that are responding to this moment of crisis to help people in need. I try to keep up with the latest guidance, not infect myself or anyone else (x1,000 as my infection becomes thousands more), do my job, keep my family safe, and give to those worse off than me, yet at the same time I selfishly plea—keep me and my family safe, keep my neighborhood from burning down.
Sure, each of us can work to preserve our mental and physical health, temper our news consumption. We can seek out experiences that remind us that there is much good still going on in the world. I went kayaking over the weekend—eaglets are being born and raised, the river still runs. Our neighbors and friends and family love and care for one another, strangers are coming together to provide for one another. We can work to practice mindfulness to be present in the moment (which I’m convinced is the only place one can be without going insane, but that’s for another blog or spiritual journey).
When I lean into the current moment, especially when it comes to COVID-19, I feel this constant need to weigh my everyday actions and decisions against my safety and my family’s well-being. This feels new and takes up a whole load of mental bandwidth in ways that I’m not at all used to. And here’s the real rub—the fact that this is new for me is a profound indication of my privilege. I got to thinking about this last month, when I was struck by a point made by Darren Hutchinson (an associate dean at the University of Florida’s Levin College of Law) in an article in the Washington Post. He made the point that white Americans can learn a thing or two about racism from the pandemic and how “the fear and uncertainty they are feeling now is not unlike what African Americans, Latinos, Asian Americans and others feel all the time.” Expanding on that, he compared (our experience of) the pandemic with racism: “Everyone’s vulnerable. In terms of geography, it’s all over the country. Every age group potentially can be affected. It’s across gender. And to the extent that structural racism impacts people along all of those axes, this is a moment where it’s really going to stand out. In terms of the fear that a lot of people have right now — and I know it’s higher among people of color — but this is the fear and anxiety that people of color experience on a daily basis. The virus is not only showing us how pervasive inequality is, it’s also giving us a moment to think about how living daily in that structural racism creates this anxiety. You know how you’re scared to go outside right now because you don’t know if the virus might be transmitted to you? How you’re scared you might lose your job right now and you don’t know how you’re going to take care of your kids? That’s how racism feels every day. You cannot only see inequality in things like health care, but feel this emotional experience of fearing something that’s out there, but you can’t really control it. That’s how racism works.”
Empathy and understanding are hard, and I don’t claim to fully understand the experience of racism as a white woman. But I do think this moment affords us an opportunity for reflecting on the weight of fear, grief, rage, and the constant calculus of daily life that we must make now, and how, for black and brown Americans, this is what they have been doing their whole lives. I’m not trying to make this into a silver lining, because there’s no way around the fact that both the pandemic and racism are horrific for those who experience them directly.
But as we find ourselves in this moment of both wrenching upheaval and unprecedented opportunity for societal, policy, and organizational change, I do think it is worth asking how we can fully explore the demands for justice and change and contribute in a positive way, as well as experience the sadness, constraints, and burdens that we face as a way to expand the tools and deepen the experiences we can bring to our empathy, our compassion, and our work.