One Black Woman’s Perspective on the Intersectionality of Race, Class, and Health in the Midst of a Pandemic
I remember being on stage at work when I first heard the rumor. Everyone wanted it to be true, though we knew it was improbable. “They’re saying Black people can’t get COVID-19.” I’m a professional storyteller currently working as a tv writer in Hollywood. I have no doubt the validity of this speculation was aided by our long-held belief that we are indestructible. This is compelling in a film but dangerous in the real world.
Even if there were some genetic protections Africans had, surely years of slavery would’ve compromised this immunity for black Americans anyway. But we hung onto the rumor that night and danced with it in our back pockets as the sounds of P. Diddy clapped our eardrums from the DJ booth (pre-Club Quarantine). We were happily shooting a sitcom: a predominantly Black cast and crew.
By the end of that night, news developed about a hiatus. A few days later we learned that tv production would shut down (in compliance with stay-at-home orders). Soon after, our writing sessions moved to Zoom. Science had quickly disrupted our Wakanda fantasy and we dropped into the unavoidable pit of truth. When it sprinkles on the majority, it tsunamis on Black people.
If only a metal capable of storing, absorbing and releasing kinetic energy existed outside of a Black Panther film.
Anecdotal evidence that we were not immune to the destruction of COVID-19 came from friends and co-workers who knew someone infected with the virus, followed by updates of untimely deaths. Medical and social justice advocates began reporting racial disparities in afflicted communities. The Chicago Tribune recently reported that Black residents make up 50% of the COVID-19 cases and in Milwaukee, where Blacks comprise approximately 40% of the population; we make up over 50% of the cases. Not only are we not immune, we are more likely to suffer.
Once demographic reports became national news, the racists began singing their familiar hymn: “It’s Their Own Fault.” Over the years, I have lost enough friends and relatives with pre-existing conditions to know death by disease is not anyone’s fault. One person I lost had been a prized athlete who died of cancer; others were born with medical complications. Plenty of black people eat healthily, and work out but because of DNA, have ended up with fatal diseases. But even those we judge for eating their way to disease shouldn’t be sentenced to death in exchange for cheeseburgers. Many of them don’t actually have real choices.
Numerous health concerns can be attributed to systemic racism. Flint, Michigan’s water crisis is one recent example. My hometown, Cleveland, is another. In the 90’s, low-income homes infested with mold killed nearly one-third of affected infants on the east side. Corporations are never admonished for marketing and distributing poison, sometimes in the form of food. And a person’s socioeconomic status is directly connected to nutritional options. Where I live, in the wealthy City of Angels (aka Los Angeles), we have food deserts where access to nutritious food is limited. The inequity is as clear as the freeway during a pandemic. Despite what some may believe, poverty is not a choice. It is a condition instigated by many factors, including interlocking systems of oppression. This was not considered in our surgeon general’s recent warning to “avoid alcohol, tobacco, and drugs,” using vernacular to seemingly appeal to our Black brains while chastising us for causing our own ailments.
It is not lost on me that my job enabled my employment at home for weeks. I don’t deserve that luxury any more than the essential worker deserves to be exposed to an invisible virus. But everyone is not equal and America has thrived by assigning worth based on race and class.
Everything from the criminal justice system, to education, to wages, to wrongful death suits, clearly illustrate what lives are worth. Black lives are always valued less. When politicians repeat the mantra “We’re all in this together,” it rings hollow. Black people are being lectured for being hit hardest by COVID-19 the way we are blamed for being hit hardest by any crisis.
Though we are not immune to COVID-19 and there is no vibranium to save us, I know we will persevere. Our lives have value, despite how we are repeatedly failed. Inequity continues to harm us both mentally and physically — even when we are economically stable. We know at any moment the rug could be pulled from beneath us simply because of our race. So, our only real choice is to do what our ancestors did before us — survive.
