Snap Back to IRL
How are Washingtonians adjusting to life in a new phase of the pandemic?
This post covers the more direct questions about how Washingtonians are handling reopening. A second post reflects on questions about the social, psychological, economic and political experience of the pandemic.
Even before the pandemic, our personal and social lives increasingly took place online. This was arguably the defining characteristic of the years we’ve lived in. And then we took our work and our education (Zoom, Teams, Slack), even our play (JackBox, Among Us) into virtual spaces.
The pandemic poured jet fuel on this and other aspects of modern life I already felt ambivalent about. Inequality accelerated as the rich retreated to their remote vacation homes and ordered everything by delivery, brought by working people staking their lives for a few meager bucks. Virtuality played a role in this, too, hiding this labor behind frictionless interfaces.
I’ve written previously about how the most vexing part of this pandemic has been that to save one another we had to spurn one another. All that is coming to a moment of transition as we pass vaccination thresholds, case counts decline, and ultimately the city decides to allow mass activities. Bumping elbows will give way to brushing shoulders again.
With this comes much cause for jubilation, starting of course with the retreat of the virus, but also the return of those human emotions only accessible in groups of three, five, ten, fifteen, fifty, five hundred and fifty thousand, numbers and kinds of people (stranger, acquaintance, neighbor) so recently vanquished to their separate cubicles now assembled in the spaces that make this a city: subway and stadium, bound together by song or sight.
I miss these things, desperately, and we’re all probably suffering from a deficiency of one kind of social vitamin or another. But our world is undeniably changed, not only by what we have seen but by what remains — a virus down but far from out, perhaps only licking its wounds, waiting to mutate and return.
Given this moment of transition, we surveyed our readers with a series of questions about reopening and reflection on the year past. Three hundred and forty-three answered. Here are observations about their responses on reopening. (A second post will cover reflection on the year past.)
Let’s start with the good news: Happily, 100% of our respondents answered that they were fully vaccinated. This tracks, because you’re a group that likes to err on the safe side and control what you can: A 9/10 was the most common response to “your level of caution over things you can control.” (Now is a good time to note that 730DC readers, while mostly Washingtonians, may not be a representative sample of the city. This sample would give us enough to generalize to the 730DC readership with a 95% confidence level if it were random, which may not be a safe assumption.)
What drove this level of caution? About one in 20 had COVID-19, and another 5% weren’t sure. But about half of respondents rated their level of exposure to the medical dangers of COVID-19 at a 5 or above (out of 10). The distribution was about the same for respondents’ feeling of exposure to the social and economic dangers of COVID-19. (We mistakenly deleted a question about whether you knew someone who had been sick.)
So what are people comfortable doing now? Outdoor activities are generally in, and most people are also now comfortable eating indoors, taking public transit and sharing rides, and going to a museum. But context matters: When visiting a friend’s home, many more people were comfortable with a group under 10 (95%) than with a group over 10 (50%). Seated performances like theater were similarly a coin toss, and more crowded scenarios like going to a club or bar or seeing a standing performance were not yet popular. Quantity of people wasn’t the only factor: Heavy breathing matters, too. Only 37% of respondents would go to a gym or indoor fitness class right now.
If current trends hold, the only activities that more than a third of respondents will continue to avoid this summer are going to a bar or club, seeing a standing performance, and going to a gym or indoor fitness class.
What makes us feel safer? Mask use is a big one — four in five will keep their masks around for future use. But ultimately, vaccinations seem to be the gold standard. (I personally think case counts should be seen as 1B to vaccination’s 1A — low case counts mean you can identify, isolate and stamp out future spread — but can’t quibble with the order.) One data-based response to the survey said, “I feel comfortable doing just about everything I did before the pandemic, though I’d be even more comfortable if there were some widely-used, reliable form of vaccine passport and if rapid antigen testing were cheap ($5 or less per test) and widespread.”
For some, continued mask use is the only guarantee of protection: “I don’t trust that all unmasked people are vaccinated. I’m having a hard time putting my double masks away.” Some pointed out “we would be foolish to ignore” the ongoing hospitalizations of people “left behind” by the current vaccination regime. Some might fear the coming tourist wave: “I trust my fellow Washingtonians and people in the DMV to act right but I am more wary of people from out of town who come to visit.” (Trust is lacking — seems bad!)
These responses track with our general sense that, even if the pandemic is shifting into a new phase, it is not over. (Several respondents pointed out in their open responses that the pandemic continues to rage unabated by the mercy of vaccines in other parts of the world. The survey was intended to inquire only about personal experiences, but this is an incredibly important point that may indeed be part of the personal experience of the pandemic for many Washingtonians.)
Amidst the continued presence of danger, a sense of control can be empowering: “Setting boundaries has always been a sticky point for me, and the pandemic forced me to become protective and vocal about my limitations.” Another person: “The pandemic allowed me to say no to people.” But it can also spiral into something darker: “There was just such an ugly side to people that came out,” whether it was trying to deny the seriousness of the pandemic or lashing out at roommates with escalating prescriptions for bubble safety.
When thinking about other people, I tend to agree with this respondent: “I’m averaging everything out — selfish assholes who scam PPP money or refuse to wear masks while unvaccinated are balanced out — or maybe even overbalanced — by the incredible hard work of mutual aid organizations and other kind community members.”
That’s a good place to stop — we’ll try to return next week with more reflections on the meaning and experience of the pandemic.
