It’s not about me. Friday last week was the quietest Friday I’ve ever known. Our campus was as still as a Midwestern movie setting, the atmosphere so thick you could probably slice it. The possibility of not getting back to school loomed over our heads. Come Saturday morning, a decision was made. We bid our classmates goodbye. It would become our last physical classroom meeting for now.
It’s not about me. It was a weekend with the strangest turn of events. We only had until Monday to collect our things. A community quarantine, a curfew, a state of calamity. The number of cases was fast increasing, the curve steepening. The world has been consumed. The Italians were singing from their balconies. The Americans were hoarding toilet paper. In Thailand, starving monkeys brawled over food. And in this country, uncertainty settled upon us like dew.
It’s not about me. The weekend abated and Monday unfolded like a dust storm. Social distancing. An acceptable sacrifice for some, a jail sentence for others. “Stay at home,” they said, “and be still.” It was a world hit on pause. Flights canceled, stores closed, gatherings called off, operations put to a halt, and even a basketball season suspended. Social media rolled out a list of things to do at home: movies to watch, music to listen to, art to create, tasks to evaluate. WFH (work from home) and isolate were now the watchwords. It’s not about me. And it’s not about you, either. One night we chanced upon a man on the street accompanied by his young daughter; the man tried to sell to us his daughter’s Blue Magic pillow. He said they needed money to buy food to eat. Since construction had been halted, he was not earning any income. And he was bound for the city from his province. We gave him money and asked him to keep the pillow. It was just an hour away till curfew.
It’s about us, as a community. The checkpoints are clogged with people who have to go to work, who have to make a living. Not everyone is privileged to work from home, nor accrue income while waiting for the crisis to pass. Many, including the sick and the elderly, have to walk distances because there is no public transportation. Health workers are finding it hard to reach work—where there is another, altogether different battle to fight.
It’s about us, together. It’s no longer just about me and my inconveniences. Neither is it about you, and the distance we now have to keep from each other. It’s about us, thriving as a collective whole. Drastic events seem to only heighten our individualistic urges—the survival of the fittest. But looking only after our own backs will only backfire on us. The coronavirus is a serious threat, and we’re all in this together.
It’s about us. It’s about battling the pandemic and wanting it to end soon. And it’s also about realizing that our fight and our experience during these times will be defined by our privileges. Like how not everyone is physically privileged to survive the virus with the help of a strong immune system. Or how not everyone is economically privileged to be able to work from home and receive income without having to leave their bedrooms. Or how many others have to defy the rules, not because they like to but because they have no choice. When the enemy is unseen and the cost is human life, there are extraordinary choices to be made, and choices are mostly clear to the privileged few.
It’s about us. In calamitous times, our individual actions have societal consequences. The actions one takes will ripple in his or her communities. Even if you are able-bodied, you may be putting in harm’s way those who are vulnerable to the virus. If you have extra resources, our frontliners are in much need of any aid. If you feel helpless, realize that you can advocate for change. These times are exposing our social vulnerabilities and inequalities. When this crisis is over, champion the rights of those who were once put at high risk.
It’s about us and those coming after us. COVID-19 is changing the world and human history. We’re going to live through this with stories to tell the next generation. Hopefully, they are mostly stories of humanity stepping up and doing good.
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michael.baylosis@gmail.com