PRIVILEGE CHECK Quarantine has left over 36 million Americans unemployed, many without a stable food supply or access to education. For those who do have their basic needs met, are they allowed to complain about the difficulties of this pandemic? In this column, Caroline Mascardo ’22 explores privilege and the role she plays amidst a coronavirus-centered world. BY CAROLINE MASCARDO DESIGN BY GRACE HUANG
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was on a charter bus heading back from Florida when I heard the news about coronavirus, or more so what it meant for me. Prior to this, “social distancing” and “quarantine” were phrases I seldom uttered. Soon, they would become the words I lived my life to during the pandemic. Of course, I was naive at the start. It had been on the news for the past couple of months, first in China and then spreading to other Asian countries and Europe, but I thought that it would be of minimal impact in the US. I was wrong, to say the least. In the weeks before spring break, school trips were being canceled and vacations advised against. I ignored these signs and saw them instead as extreme precautions. Then, just a week later, my school orchestra and I traveled to Disney World for a music competition. After a few days, we were walking out of there as the parks shut down. On the bus ride home, things became scarily unprecedented. “The school district just announced we aren’t going back to school for another month,” chimed one voice. In a matter of minutes, the bus came abuzz with discussions on how classes would function, if we would be allowed to see our friends, and so on. A few hours later, we were back in Iowa and saying our goodbyes, not
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SHOU LD I FEEL GU I LTY THAT OTH E RS ARE TRU LY STRUGGLI NG AN D I ’M NOT? ... I DON ’T KNOW.”
realizing it was the last time we were all together as a group. Ten weeks later, things are about as clear as they were at the start. I know I’m not alone in my distaste for quarantine and social distancing, but I question to what extent I can complain about it. I have a stable WiFi connection, I know that I can eat today, and I don’t have to worry about being especially prone to illness. For the most part, I can address any problems that may come my way during this time. At the same time, I feel uncomfortable. I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know how much longer I’ll need a mask and a six-foot distance while talking to someone. I don’t know when I’ll see all of my friends again. I don’t know when I’ll be able to walk downtown and see stores and restaurants bustling with customers again. I don’t know if I’ll be able to thank my teachers in-person for how much they’ve helped me this year. I don’t know when I won’t have to worry about all things COVID-19 anymore. The thoughts running through my head can be daunting, and sometimes I feel like I can’t even acknowledge my fears out of my own privilege. At the same time, aren’t these feelings affecting us all? There’s no one out there who knows the answers nor someone who finds themselves living in their ideal world right now. The thing is, no one likes quarantine in its entirety. However, quarantine has changed different people’s lives to varying extents. As someone whose basic needs haven’t been affected and are being met amidst this pandemic, I feel guilty for the complaints I do have. Toggling back and forth from grieving to being grateful is a slippery slope for my mental health. Should I accept that I’m a human and I have feelings? Yes. Should I acknowledge I’m privileged and my needs are being fully met? Yes. But should I feel guilty that others are truly struggling during this time, and I’m not? ... I don’t know. I think the ultimate uncertainty lies in my role in this mess. While no individual can control
“ WH I LE NO I N DIVI DUAL CAN CONTROL HOW LONG TH IS WI LL LAST, I FEEL POWE RLESS I N THAT I CAN ’T SEE HOW I ’M H ELPI NG OTH E RS AN D HOW PROGRESS IS BEI NG MADE.” how long this will last, I feel powerless in that I can’t see how I’m helping others and how progress is being made. However, I suppose my role is to keep others safe and mitigate the spread of the disease right now. I’m socially distancing from others, wearing a cloth mask in public, and only making mandatory trips to the grocery store. I can’t help that there are people who don’t have the same resources I do, but improvements are slowly being made so that these people are being helped. I suppose the best thing that I can do at this time is to do my part and fulfill my role. That, in itself, is enough. COLUMN
MAY 26, 2020
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