33 COVID-19: When Two Weeks Became Two Years

Anonymous

When the announcement came over the speaker stating that March Break would begin early, I was seated in my 11th grade chemistry class at Ancaster High School. Everyone began looking around the room; friends gazing at friends questioning “Did you hear that?”

As a 16-year-old girl, I hadn’t internalized the gravity of the situation, though that may be more due to the lack of information at the time, as opposed to my age. I just remember my initial feeling being annoyed, as the previous day we had Varsity Soccer try-outs. They had gone surprisingly well; after spending the first season almost entirely on the bench, I was excited to get some real play time on the field.

The strict lockdown, where all in-person events were cancelled and grocery stores required timed pick-ups for groceries, occurred within the first year of Covid. This time also saw schools being entirely online – only seeing friends through Microsoft Teams classes. I remember my school offered the opportunity to do hybrid learning in grade 12. To be honest, I wasn’t super fond of my high school, so I chose to do the rest of school online. Being completely online, despite the opportunity for in-person learning, probably made my Covid experience more isolated. For two years, I rarely left my house; yet, I didn’t feel alone at all, nor was I unhappy.

Other changes day-to-day included my part-time job: I was a sales associate at a department store. Due to its location in an affluent area, we dealt with many entitled people. With Covid, that created an entirely new way for terrible people to be terrible; customers would refuse to wear masks, berate the employees, and yell about their rights being taken away. It was such an insane time, I decided to cut my losses and quit. Luckily, it wasn’t a job I loved nor needed. However, there were many employees subjected to the same behaviour, who had to provide for themselves and their families. They couldn’t take the easy way out like I did.

The last thing I remember about day-to-day lives changing, was the way we interacted with friends. Instead of talking face-to-face, it would happen on social media; Instagram, Snapchat, and TikTok were very popular among my age group.

Of all the course themes, the one that resonates with my Covid experience the most is stigma. Stigma was discussed during lectures about Leprosy and the HIV/AIDS epidemic. Stigma stems from a societal demonization of someone, some thing, or some group. It’s mainly derived from negative connotations attached to the target’s character. In the case of HIV/AIDS, stigma largely targeted gay men (and later drug addicts, when more salience was afforded to unclean needles causing infections). Regarding leprosy, there was stigma against those with the disease, believing that they must be “sinners” who upset God. As someone who never got Covid, the stigma I had was projected towards others.

The first year of lockdown was rigid: no leaving the house for non-urgent reasons (ex. buying groceries, picking up monthly prescriptions, etc.,). Similar to the HIV/AIDS crisis, it became gossip to discuss who had Covid. In my opinion, the stigma perpetuated onto those with Covid was different. There was stigma attached to people who went out and partied, and broke the isolation guidelines. Going out with friends, partying, not wearing a mask, etc., are all behaviours with very real repercussions towards others. The stigma didn’t stem from bigotry, but from a disgust that people would be willing to prioritize frivolous pleasures over looking out for their community. It became almost a moral stance: do you protect your community and put their needs first (follow isolation rules), or do you prioritize your own pleasure over the safety of others (go out and party)?

I became quite prejudiced against people who ignored the rules of isolation. It even caused me to become distant with some of my friends. An example I remember is one girl who I was close with prior to COVID-19. She was a partier, and even after the isolation guidelines were imposed, she would always ask me to go to parties; it really changed the way I viewed her. Obviously, I declined going whenever asked. But over time, it caused our friendship to end. Her blatant disregard for the rules negatively affected the way I viewed her integrity and respect for others.

This is a hard question to answer, as I feel Covid changed every aspect of culture we can think of. I think it increased the already existent dependency on technology and social media, due to that being most people’s sole outlet for news and human connection.

One of the biggest cultural shifts was TikTok: the platform exploded in 2019, and became one of the most popular apps in 2020. Everyone – literally everyone – was on TikTok. It changed the way we discovered music and artists (ex. Doja Cat blew up after her songs “Moo” and “Say So” went viral on the platform). It also changed our style, with the ‘alt-indie’ aesthetic becoming a widespread phenomenon.

A more nefarious change in culture is the current rise in political and social extremism post-Covid. So many people lost their jobs, which resulted in people losing access to necessary health care (such as therapy, medical treatments, etc.). I believe this spurned some of the rhetoric that “Canada was falling apart” after Covid. People were angry that crime increased and food got more expensive; the rise in crime, especially in big cities like Toronto, actually highlighted the gap in social support provided to people in need. In my opinion, Covid exacerbated issues already prevalent in communities, such as the lack of funding allocated to mental health support.

As a way to cope with these hardships, individuals turned to leaders that used absolute terms, like right-wing figures (Ben Shapiro and Donald Trump to name a few). They started to follow wellness influencers who denounced healthcare institutions that they were already angry at. It created another way for the alt-right to influence people’s perceptions of government and medicine. I believe Covid, and the frustrations it erupted in society, are part of the reason why conservative governments increased in popularity among voters.

Furthermore, I believe Covid influenced the popularity of the ‘Cottage-Core’ aesthetic; on its surface, the aesthetic features imagery of an English countryside lifestyle. Prominent styles include plaid and gingham patterns, flowy skirts, and muted colours. On a deeper level, Cottage-Core is a form of escapism – a way to revert to “simpler times.” The idea present-day issues in a post-Covid world didn’t exist in the past is a farce. But it was a convincing enough idea that this aesthetic often led people to darker corners of the internet, such as anti-vax and racist echo-chambers. It’s something I ended up writing about for a political essay in university. Long story short: Covid made (some) people conservative and/or alt-right extremists.