As a Fall ‘21 freshman, I’ve only been on campus for about two hours total. I walked around, got my student ID, and left in a bus. Just two years ago, people reading that sentence would assume that I took a leave of absence.
It’s an oft repeated phrase: we are living through crazy times. Sometimes, it means that our phones connect to an unseen band of radiation to link us to people on the other side of the globe. Other times, it’s a pandemic. Even while I realize the pandemic is one of those moments that will go down in history, I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that it’s happening. How could a virus evolve so quickly?
But I get the regular COVID text messages. And every time I talk to my classmates, they seem annoyed by both the restrictions and the villains who “caused” them — some specific person who tested positive, a group of people, or even the government. Nobody’s experience with the pandemic has been the same; nevertheless, rage is never the right way to deal with anything, much less a global pandemic.
We can all recall the bouts of panic directed at churchgoers in the beginning of the pandemic, followed by anger towards clubbers, now morphing into a mistrust of foreigners. No matter the target, scapegoating makes people villains for being sick. The idea that sick people must have brought their sickness upon themselves makes it difficult for them to speak up. By letting others know that they have COVID, people are opening themselves up to judgments on their lifestyle as much as their health. Even with the randomness of contracting COVID clouding our idea of who really acted without caution, we have been quick to label those who tested positive as the new antagonists.
We’re becoming far too numb to crazy situations. A virus has led to a pandemic in the 21st century, and most of the time, I can only see half of everyone’s face. We’ve only had eighteen months to adjust to a new way of life. As the pandemic progresses, we’ve only had a few weeks to adjust to the current level of restrictions, the current number of COVID cases, and the current villain in the story.
Sometimes, I feel like I don’t fear COVID for the sickness itself, but because of the fear of ridicule. I’m unlikely to die from COVID, but a small part of me will die through the ordeal of public (or private) scrutiny if I ever contract the disease. Snap judgments are always harsh; when directed at your morality, they can become terrifying.
I don’t want to excuse the people who have a blatant disregard for other human lives. People who go to large gatherings for no justifiable reason deserve criticism, though not outright hate. But with confusing restrictions and a constantly evolving virus, fear and mistrust shouldn’t be the go-to tactic to keep people safe. If someone contracts a contagious virus, it is unlikely that they did so on purpose. This pandemic should be a war of humans against a virus, rather than a war of humans against other humans.
Before the pandemic, my friend and I played tennis daily. We weren’t very good, but we assured ourselves that if the ball fell to the ground, it wasn’t our fault. It was just gravity. We’re living in a world where playing soccer can be a crime, and that’s not our fault. It’s just evolution. It’s just viruses, persevering day after day to survive. While it’s prudent to keep the ball off the ground, if someone’s efforts fail, just remember that the main criminal here isn’t a human being: it’s a tiny ball of RNA and protein.