Why I’m worried about a second COVID lockdown in New York City
In September New York came alive with spring-like exuberance. As the heat subsided and the infection rate remained low, New Yorkers filled restaurants’ makeshift patios and thronged into the parks. The air of celebration was tinged with anxiety, yet it was possible to believe that this was the beginning of a return to normal.
Now, in late October, things are starting to change again. Though schools and more of the economy is now open, the outbreaks in many parts of the country, and large portions of Europe make the reopening seem fragile and temporary. Will New York be able to contain the pandemic over the winter months, or are we just a few weeks away from a second wave — and another strict shutdown?
I stayed in New York City, more or less by myself, for the entirety of the first lockdown. I remember well the tense atmosphere of the city teetering on the brink of catastrophe. No one knew much about COVID 19 back then — how it spreads, the various ways it attacks the body — and my emotions oscillated in those first couple of months along with the news cycle.
Still, somehow that spring and early summer weren’t as bad as I’d expected. I missed spending time with friends, going to bookstores and museums, but I also came to appreciate the long, uninterrupted stretches of time I now had for myself. The last five years had been hectic; as I commuted between several teaching jobs, while still trying to write and have something that resembled a social life, I’d almost forgotten what it was like to read a book for a few hours, or focus on a piece of writing without worrying that I might fall behind in my paid work.
Yet as the possibility of a shuts down looms I fear that I won’t be able to find the same peace of mind. I’m a millennial, and having come of age in the era of austerity, I know that the race never stops, not even during a pandemic. So far, I’ve been lucky to keep my jobs, but as an adjunct professor — that is a part-time contractor at several universities — I never know just how long a teaching gig will last. The chances of finding a full-time job in my profession have always been slim; now with severe budget cuts to universities, they’ve become virtually nonexistent. Not being able to attend events where I can network and speak to people from other industries would make finding a job outside my profession so much harder.
What frightens me even more is the return to the social isolation of the pandemic’s first four months. The first time around we took comfort in the novelty of videochatting, allowing ourselves to be taken in by the illusion that the people we see through the screen are really present. Now, more than six months in, that illusion has worn thin, only to be replaced by new kinds of anxiety and loneliness.
By now, we are all tired: tired of Zoom, tired of having to speak and breathe through uncomfortable facemasks, tired of not knowing when the pandemic will end, and what our world would look like once (if?) it does. The easing of restriction in the last couple of months made it possible to cope with this fatigue; it gave us some hope that even with the economic and social hardships, life could somehow go on.
If the city shuts down again — if restaurants, museums, and bookstores close; if we are asked to stay off public transport, and keep to our apartments — I worry that this sense of hope will vanish, leaving only anxious uncertainty and fatigue. The long days working at home will seem so much longer, and there will be little to look forward to on the weekends.
The economic crisis will also deepen. And although commentators write about a new, potentially more humane economy that will emerge after the pandemic, experience teaches that contingent workers like me are unlikely to benefit from whatever changes may be put in place — at least not in the immediate future.
Despite these anxieties, I don’t want to be entirely pessimistic. I know that however difficult things get, this time, too, we’ll find ways of dealing with the uncertainty and isolation. New Yorkers are resourceful; and the fact that in March and April most people abided by the rules and kept each other safe speaks to a quality of good will that may, some day, extend beyond life-and-death situations.
For now, I will continue to make the most of these last good-weather days, while mindfully preparing for what lies ahead. If another lockdown comes, I’ll take it one day at a time, and try to give myself room to adjust to the new situation.
