(A shorter version of this blog post can be found here at the IU Sociology Quarantine Project site)
Since the stay-at-home orders started cascading across the nation, I have grappled with my own journey of making sense of the quarantine. Official updates from leading organizations have confirmed that our realities are shifting: two more weeks at home; one more month; things are not likely to be the same for a lot longer than expected. As the days slowly inched by and I was consuming more and more news on updates of COVID-19, I began to follow the stringent guidelines to a T, and the harsh echoes of “STAY HOME! WASH YOUR HANDS! SIX FEET APART!” nagged at my mind like my chastising Filipina grandmother used to.
But because this pandemic is unlike anything we have experienced, I didn’t know how to do this. On face value, we have time. So. Much. Time. What can I produce with all this time? But if I have time, that means I am privileged to stay home safe and must do my part to stand up for those who cannot, right? But I surely must engage in some form of online activism because this is the time and place to do it, right?
This broad question has been tumbling in my mind for a month now, and it still is: What is the right way to do this quarantine thing?
My close friends and family serve as my frame of reference now: my friends in Las Vegas are being laid off due to hotels temporary closing because our tourist city is lacking its usual traffic. These Vegas friends have kept me company as I sit isolated in my room through Zoom parties (that last until sunrise) and FaceTime calls of laughter and sob sessions.
Am I spending too much time with people I haven’t talked to in months? Should I ditch these virtual outings so that I can wake up early and work on my Masters?
My family in Sacramento, two of whom work at the UC Davis Medical Center (where the first northern California case of COVID-19 was diagnosed), are in the front lines of fighting this virus daily. We send each other memes and funny videos to make light of what first responders deal with as essential workers during this pandemic.
Should I be doing more to support those on the front lines? Making masks, donating to funds?
My mother—thankfully still receiving income from the Las Vegas hotels where she works as an on-call banquet server—is keeping her routine intact with attending online church and staying busy with house projects. She called me one day to say that this pandemic is a blessing in disguise because we now are all forced to slow down and enjoy life. An extended vacation, she has said. I sang her “Happy Birthday” over FaceTime with my brother and sister in early April as she blew the candles of her cake and turned 48 in quarantine.
Should she be guilty because she sees this as an opportunity for extra self-care she can practice with the free time and financial comfort? Should I also be guilty that I am comfortable, despite doing all I think I can do for those who aren’t so lucky?
My Chinese best friend grapples with the stress and miscommunications of being in quarantine with immigrant parents and dealing with the responsibility of translating U.S. culture (that those of us who are 1.5 generation immigrant children know all too well). We talk about the racism that Asian-Americans are and will continue experiencing as COVID-19 is referred to as the “Chinese virus” by our leaders. We also play iPhone games and talk about boy troubles amid these serious conversations.
Should I be fighting against anti-Chinese sentiment? I am a budding immigration scholar—shouldn’t I be seizing this natural experiment and collecting data, like, right now?
My social network in Bloomington is also a tiny sample of what my colleagues and friends here are doing. The IUSocProject site is a compilation of what other grad students are critically thinking about: anti-Asian sentiment, how isolation affects mental health, inequality of food distribution and resources, among others. We are still taking classes, completing our graduate teaching responsibilities, and progressing our own research projects—with varying fervent than before.
Should I be producing more critical analyses like my colleagues?
I view stories on Instagram that give me short glimpses of what people do to keep themselves entertained: making TikToks, doing silly IG challenges, cooking and posting about the process, and filling my feed with throwbacks of traveling pictures.
Should I be posting a ton of happy content too, so people can think that I am doing great during this pandemic? (Zoom party with my girls! Quarantine workouts! Eating healthy and so totally not going through the Taco Bell drive thru three times a week!)
I look at Twitter and scroll through lighthearted updates, information from government officials and scholar-activist academics making sense of the pandemic, and other not-so lighthearted threads about what we should and shouldn’t be doing. Users that admonish those who are casually riding the wave of quarantine and distracting themselves by playing Animal Crossing or binge-watching Netflix. The exhausting and guilt-inducing mantra of, “If you don’t come out of this quarantine with [x,y, and/or z], you didn’t ever lack the time, you lacked the discipline.”
Should I be emerging from quarantine with new hobbies or completed projects? Should I have more success to show for all this time?
Which brings me back to the overall question: How are we supposed to “do” this?
As sociologists, we often discuss how we perform our roles. We “do” gender and “undo” gender, we “do” race, we “do” class. But, because a global pandemic is new to all of us, there is no blueprint for how to “do” physical isolation, quarantine, or shelter in place.
The short answer is simple and underwhelming: it looks different for everyone. The long answer is perhaps more provoking: There is no right way to get through this. There are many ways. And we do not get to make others feel guilty because they are doing it differently.
If you have been productive with this time in seclusion, I applaud you. But I have done nothing more than take care of my minimum responsibilities and myself. And that is okay.
The transition to staying at home has been a rough one for me. I work best in close proximity with others. Now, I drive around town and go out on nature walks multiple times a day just to move. I run in my neighborhood and crave a smile or nod from a passing jogger. Being isolated has forced me to confront thoughts that usually keep me awake past midnight. I have night terrors almost every night. While already struggling by being so far away from my home, my experience of isolation are exacerbated by being physically unable to connect locally with friends.
While I don’t necessarily have the imminent fear of catching the virus and not surviving, I still have to attend to my own personal struggles. For the longest time, I felt guilty because I am “safe at home” and am still able to pay bills and meet deadlines. I didn’t allow myself to struggle. But struggles don’t have a monopoly on the one who suffers most. We all can honor our own personal struggles without undermining the significance of everyone else’s.
Over one month in, on Day 36, I can finally be comfortable accepting that there will continue to be good days of productivity and bad days of anxious thoughts looping in my head. I am allowed to not feel guilty that what I do in isolation facilitates my own version of survival. We all have our strengths. First responders make a difference every day on the front lines. Medical researchers are working tirelessly to urge others to “flatten the curve” and to find the cure for COVID-19. Social scientists provide analyses that turn these trends into concrete action plans. The drivers delivering our packages, the artists boosting morale with live concerts from home, the undocumented laborers growing our food, and so many others with different and important roles are all experiencing this pandemic separately together.
I will not set my quarantine expectations to anyone else’s bar. Short of checking our privileges in health and comfort, we do not get to admonish how others choose to spend their efforts when we don’t know what struggles they have been dealt. Rather than minimizing others for lack of productivity, or empathy, or usefulness, or effort, focus on uplifting others and extending compassion and kindness as we are all hurting together.