COVID Shaming

In mid-August 2020, I volunteered as an enumerator for the US Census Bureau. What is an enumerator? Working as an enumerator involves visiting and interviewing people who have not completed the 2020 US Census Bureau questionnaire. Each of my assignments required visiting people in houses that were within a few miles of where I live in Martinez, California. With temperatures spiking up to 100 degrees, I felt sweat oozing down behind my face mask. Much to my surprise, many of the people who answered the door were not wearing face masks. In my house, I installed three sets of hooks right by my front door where I hang my face masks. I tried to stand at least six feet away from each person I interviewed, but some of my neighbors were hard of hearing and in those situations, I had to stand closer than six feet away from people who were not wearing face masks.

Ever since the shutdown began in March 2020, I have been extremely careful about observing all the recommended COVID-19 safety protocols. I wear a KN95 face mask whenever I leave my house, I use gloves while grocery shopping, and I carry hand sanitizer everywhere. I worked from home four days a week so my exposure to the general public was minimal. However, once a week, I rode the BART train for an hour from Martinez to Oakland, where I worked as a commercial property administrator. I was worried that the US Census work I did on the side had some risks, but given the detrimental impact of an inaccurate count in 2020, the risks seemed worth taking. Why is the U.S. Census so important? The U.S. Census helps our communities determine where to build everything from schools to supermarkets, and from homes to hospitals. It helps the government decide how to distribute funds and assistance to states and localities.

During that August weekend, I started to have trouble breathing right after my last census visit. My chest tightened with severe pressure and my headache turned into a full-blown migraine. I rarely experience headaches so I attributed my unusual symptoms to heat exhaustion. But on the following Monday, my company announced that one of our employees had contracted COVID-19. I was no longer experiencing breathing problems, chest pressure and a headache, but I thought it would be prudent to get tested for COVID-19 just in case I had come into contact with the infected employee. Two days later, I received the devastating news that I was infected with COVID-19. At first, I thought I contracted COVID-19 from my enumerator work, but my physician told me that the symptoms would not have appeared until a few days later and most likely, I caught the disease in early August and not in mid-August. 

I suspected the virus would take a toll on my health, but I was completely unprepared for some of the other less-publicized effects -- like how it would affect my personal relationships. Most people know someone who has contracted COVID-19. As a result, many of us have become armchair experts in the highly contagious aspects of this disease, its devastating impact on communities of color, and the struggles experienced by long haulers who are still experiencing the side effects of COVID. But there are other effects that have nothing to do with the physical effects of this disease. . . 

It is so easy to assume that the unlucky ones were not careful enough. Perhaps they wore face masks below their noses and mouths when they left their homes. Maybe they were attending super spreader events with large groups of people. Perhaps they did not wash their hands for at least 20 seconds in warm, soapy water. But I was not careless when it came to COVID. Nevertheless, I still experienced shame and ostracism from people whom I thought knew me well. 

For example, one of my housemates -- a woman in her 50s whom I'll call Frances -- freaked out when I shared my diagnosis with her. She immediately moved out of my house for two weeks and while I was self-isolating and quarantining in my bedroom, not once did she reach out to me to see how I was doing. My other housemate, a 23-year-old woman whom I'll call Abigail, took everything in stride and generously volunteered to prepare my food and clean all my dirty dishes during my two week quarantine period. 

Even after I recovered from COVID and my 10 days of self-isolation had ended, Frances told me that she did not feel safe being in the same room with me. Frances forced me to create a complicated kitchen schedule with prescribed times when each housemate was allowed to use the kitchen. Frances told me, "Obviously you weren't careful enough and that is why you caught COVID." If we happened to pass by each other in the hallway, Frances would turn and run away from me. Despite all the medical information about how long people are contagious after catching COVID-19, Frances seemed convinced that I was still shedding the virus. 

I felt extremely hurt because prior to catching COVID, Frances and I were close in the past. We used to watch movies in my living room together, visit the Farmer's Market in Martinez, and go on shopping and hiking excursions together. We had even planned to go on a trip together to Carmel, California in October 2020, but Frances cancelled the trip after I contracted COVID-19 in August.

But Frances wasn't the only one who reacted very negatively after I received my diagnosis. When a contact tracer reached out to one of my friends, a woman in her 50s whom I'll call Anna, she became angry that I had given the contact tracer her contact information. Anna felt that I had betrayed her and told me, "The last thing I want to do is isolate for 14 days." She decided not to tell her employer and continued going into work and meeting with her patients. She also temporarily cut off ties with me for three weeks and said she needed a break from our friendship. 

I found all these reactions mystifying because I knew I did the right thing. When you get COVID, you're supposed to inform the contact tracer about every person you have been in close contact with for 15 minutes or more. What is contact tracing and why is it so important? Contact tracing is the process of finding out who has recently been in close contact with a person infected with COVID-19, and reaching out to those people to let them know they may have been exposed and advising them to quarantine for 14 days in order to reduce the possible spread of the disease. The success of contact tracing depends on the honesty of every person who has been exposed to COVID-19. Contact tracers can only be effective if people who test positive for COVID-19 tell them where they went and who they saw during the window when they were contagious.

After COVID-19 reared its ugly head in my home -- not just once, but twice (in October 2020, my 23-year-old housemate, Abigail, also caught COVID two months after I recovered from the disease) -- my relationship with Frances completely broke down. Our communications were limited to long, anxiety-ridden text messages and emails about kitchen shifts and broken appliances (Frances accidentally broke my garbage disposal). COVID exacerbated the tensions in our relationship and on December 31, 2020, Frances moved out. The reason she gave was, "I do not want to live with anyone who has had COVID." Ironically, her new roommate caught COVID two weeks before Frances was scheduled to move in with her. 

Most of my friends have been kind and supportive, but a few have remained wary. Even though I am fully vaccinated (I received the two-dose Pfizer vaccine), some of my friends do not feel comfortable going on a hike with me even if I wear a KN95 face mask. It still feels like I'm being treated like a leper. 

Nevertheless, I do not regret being open about my experiences with COVID because I am not ashamed that I caught this disease. Initially, I had post-COVID symptoms, but after receiving the second dose of the Pfizer vaccine, my physical stamina has returned and I successfully completed three real estate classes (Real Estate Principles, Legal Aspects of Real Estate and Real Estate Principles) with an "A." 

While we continue to adjust to our new normal, it's time for all of us to exercise some compassion instead of shaming those who are still struggling with this dreadful disease.