The Pandemic Allowed Me to Connect With My Ancestral Homeland
Covid-19 has taken so much. But remote work has also given back.
I was in China when the pandemic started.
News of the virus crept slowly. Through students’ whispers as they filed in and out of the counseling center where I work. Through WeChat moments my friends posted. Underneath festive Chinese New Year decorations, women nervously scrubbed their hands with alcohol, the holiday’s cheery disposition replaced by fear.
And then, all of a sudden, it was inescapable. I could see more masks than faces. It was impossible to look a stranger in the eye without a panicked look. Do you have it? Do I?
On January 25th, I left Beijing— not to flee, but for a coincidental pre-planned vacation to visit family. The airport was one of the scariest places I had ever been: Hazmat suits, cotton swabs, temperature tests. As the plane took off, I felt an immeasurable sense of relief. I didn’t yet know that I wouldn’t be returning.
A few days into my vacation, my flight home was canceled. A few days later, my company told me it wasn’t safe to return. A month later, China revoked my visa.
I had a backpack, a laptop, five sets of clothes, and nowhere to go.
