Shopping without a mask feels naked
Standing in a line in early March that snaked across an entire floor of Costco, I felt judgment from the adults around me. They were all wearing masks and exchanging glances — each subtly staring at me. I felt a sudden rush of not belonging.
I was the only one without a mask.
What started as mass buying of soap, toilet paper and nonperishable food, long lines at pharmacies and 6-foot spaces between friends has become a masked society. No one goes without their costume in public.
Because the virus spread began early in Taiwan, restaurants and stores are open with specific safety preventative measures. Taking temperatures, sanitizing hands and wearing masks is mandatory.
In early February, my school announced that we would begin online learning under government protocol. I remember staring at the email in disbelief — I had read about the virus, but I didn’t know the severity of it. Like many of my peers, I was upset that sporting and school events were cancelled. But I wonder if my disappointment was valid when so many others have it worse.
As I woke up before a day of online learning, I felt the irresistible urge to search “new coronavirus cases in Taiwan” on my phone. I questioned when this will end, if there would ever be an end.
Learning online, I have often felt unproductive, lost and confused. Every day I wake up, read the news, listen to school lectures and get dizzy from looking at screens. I go into the kitchen to make myself a snack or walk the dog — just for a break.
Some online assignments are quizzes on the Canvas learning platform, note taking during Zoom call lectures, or watching videos that our teachers made for us. I can barely keep track of all the assignments and video call appointments every day.
My classmates and I were cleared to return to school in early April. But the transition has been challenging. School was temporarily closed again two days before spring break. I remember students giving high fives in the halls and screaming in the cafeteria. With that came tears, too. I felt the sadness, but also relief.
As I stroll along the streets of Taipei, I notice masks becoming an accessory of increasing normalcy, a symbol of a new world that began in a new decade. I feel that pit-of-your-stomach guilt if I ever leave home without one.