What it’s Really Like…to Feel Like the Only One Who Believes in COVID-19
Life in the year 2020 is abnormal. It’s uncomfortable. It’s frightening.
But you wouldn’t necessarily get that impression by studying the scene in my community in the Southern United States.
More than half a million people worldwide have died due to the novel Coronavirus, a new version of a respiratory illness commonly referred to as COVID-19 for the year it originated. And the rest of us are scrambling, at best, to make sense of how to proceed with everything as the virus-related case and death counts keep rising.
Yet at the same time some of us are anxious about what to do and what not to do, people are traveling to crowded beaches, claiming they’re distancing themselves physically from all of their fellow vacationers. Others are participating in summer cookouts, birthday parties and pool gatherings, just like we’re living in the most ordinary of times.
I’m tired of people around me acting like nothing is happening. I’m tired of feeling like the only one who believes COVID is a real danger.
It often feels like my wife and I are the only ones trying to carefully navigate this uncertain situation, at least in our small corner of the world.
On the Fourth of July, a group of no fewer than 50 gathered for a feast and fireworks celebration at a home in our neighborhood.
Every time I walk through a grocery store or to a restaurant takeout counter, there are far more people without masks than with. And each time I have picked up my anxiety prescription at the drive-through window of our pharmacy, none of the employees are wearing masks. What an example that sets for everyone else, when medical professionals appear to have no concern for the situation.
I’m tired of people all around me acting like nothing is happening. I’m tired of feeling like the only one who believes COVID is a real danger.
We must make money, feed ourselves and carry out other essential functions. This, however, is not the time for parties and vacations as if we’re navigating a normal year.
Like so many others, I’ve often wondered exactly how everyone around me has formed their opinions about the validity of COVID, taken a stance on whether to stay home or travel as usual, and decided whether to wear a facemask as an effort to prevent the spread of respiratory droplets that are believed to carry the virus.
Throughout this pandemic, there have been times when I’ve worn a facemask in public and times when I have not, though the latter has become my norm. I’ve received looks of judgemental concern when my face was exposed. I’ve received glares of condescension when I’ve covered my nose and mouth.
I battle significant general and social anxiety. The looks, even the ones that are just my perceptions due to my mental illnesses and the widespread “COVID is a hoax” commentary in places like Facebook, make me even more uncomfortable in public than normal.
My wife and I have not taken any trips in the past six months, and we have no plans to vacation this year. Now’s not the time. Even if health isn’t a major concern in a particular destination, it’s absurd to risk it, and it’s likely that many restaurants and attractions are closed along our journey anyways.
As much as possible, we have stayed at home since the reported numbers of COVID cases and deaths started rising — and businesses started closing in large numbers in response — back in March. We have picked up restaurant takeout a number of times. And we’ve been house-hunting, so we have “masked up” and visited a few homes with our also-masked Realtor. Overall, though, we’ve spent more time reading, working from home, binging streaming entertainment and cleaning out our current home in preparation to move.
Yet, because of what we see and experience when we do go out in public or talk to family members and acquaintances, it feels like we’re in the minority in our attempts to heed the virus-related warnings of the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) and our local and state health leaders in our state of North Carolina.
Why does it feel like that?
Does data tell us anything?
Many organizations hypothesize that it has something to do with political standing. The nonpartisan Pew Research Center reported in June that 61% of registered Republicans believe the worst of the Coronavirus pandemic is already behind us, while 76% of Democrats believe the worst is still yet to come.
My wife and I live in a Republican-heavy area of the South, about an hour west of Charlotte, North Carolina. In the surrounding counties of Catawba, Gaston, Lincoln, Polk and Rutherford, the largest numbers of registered voters are Republicans, and there are more unaffiliated voters than there are Democrats in every one of those counties. In Cleveland County where we live, the approximate numbers are a bit more even: 22,000 Democrats; 22,000 Republicans; and 18,000 unaffiliated voters.
Data doesn’t provide a solid answer for everything, at least in my opinion.
Even looking at those numbers, I can’t say I believe politics is the only reason why lots of folks aren’t heeding orders and warnings to stay at home or wear masks when traveling among other people.
I’m not even certain geography has anything to do with it. A poll released this month by the analytics and advisory organization Gallup indicates that more people in the South always wear a mask in public than residents in the Midwest and West regions of the country.
Data doesn’t provide a solid answer for everything, at least in my opinion. For one, I believe responses to such polls aren’t always truthful. There’s no way of tracking that, other than accounting for margins of error. And two, data doesn’t speak to what’s actually happening day to day in communities that haven’t been ravaged by the Coronavirus. I’m referring to areas where deaths haven’t been particularly frequent and personal like they were in New York back in the spring. People have died in our neighboring communities, but I don’t believe it has truly penetrated the hearts of enough people to cause folks to make decisions in favor of precautions, just to be safe, regardless of the actual level of risk. We don’t truly know what we’re fighting here, especially those of us who aren’t trained and educated scientists.
So, what gives?
In short, simple stubbornness and obstinance.
It’s not sexy, but those are the most sensible explanations I can imagine for why there’s such a feeling of judgement over the wearing of masks and the changing of living and traveling habits — or the lack thereof.
There are people among us who have declared they will not be told what to do “and that’s final.” Some folks claim freedom as a right and reason for not wearing a mask. Others say they’re bored and can’t take staying home all the time. Maybe boredom and stubbornness are real and warranted, but aren’t those silly reasons for possibly — even if there’s only a slight risk of it— endangering those around us?
Maybe boredom and stubbornness are real and warranted, but aren’t those silly reasons for possibly endangering those around us?
People are dying. Regardless of what is and what isn’t, those deaths are facts that you cannot debate. Please contact me if you honestly feel you can. I want to hear your thoughts.
Perhaps a mask doesn’t save lives. But what if it does?
I’m tired of wondering what new looks I’ll receive in the grocery store, at the pharmacy and in other public places I wear my mask. Every look feels like a statement, “Oh, now I know where you politically stand.”
But how can you be so sure? Maybe I have an active case of COVID and I’m not in quarantine because I have no one to help me procure essentials. Maybe I have health problems that make me extra concerned about even a slight possibility of contracting COVID. Maybe I’m asymptomatic and worried about infecting others. Seeing my mask doesn’t mean you know everything about me or where I stand.
If everyone would wear a mask in public and commit to staying home when possible, maybe I wouldn’t feel so awkward every time I’m the only person in the room with a piece of cloth over my face.
This is the start of a new series of perspective pieces titled “What It’s Really Like…” from North Carolina writer and author Matthew Tessnear.