Picture this:
You leisurely walk into the Fayette Mall and methodically strut into the “Allsports” store, renowned for its irresistible, top tier male staff.
Walking in with no intention of buying a single thing, you notice your next mistake hunched over and stacking plain, white boxes of knock-off Nike’s.
Your target slightly turns around- he looks promising. You bashfully divert your glance to an unrecognizable basketball jersey in your hands, which God forbid anyone asks you the team’s name or player stats, because you know absolutely nothing.
You glance yet again and now notice his mask comfortably resting below his nose, exposing the nostrils completely. A coronavirus super spreader in your midst. You lose interest and defeatedly exit immediately.
Why were you so eager to scrutinize his humanity and integrity over a piece of fabric? Have you totally associated his character with mask placement? What if he was so enthralled by your serendipitous perfection that he had to breathe real air before he passed out?
You’ll never know, you made a subconscious judgement and left.
Recently, the societal issue of masks and vaccinations have morphed into “Social Darwinism,” which is the notion that certain individuals become more powerful and important to society because they are, well, “better” than everyone else.
Now, physically, there is nothing about the vaccine or masks that will make you more powerful or important (except for its protection from COVID-19- oh wait, vaccinated people can still get the virus).
But now, according to the New York Times, in the Big Apple, only the proof of vaccination will allow you to enter gyms and restaurants such as the local Applebee’s. To think that some people will never experience “1/2 Price Appetizers” at Applebee’s again is the epitome of losing importance.
Last night I was scrolling on Facebook and noticed that any social media user can place an “I got my COVID-19 vaccine” frame on their profile picture. First off, where are my “I said ‘no’ to drugs” or “I broke up with my cheater boyfriend” frames. Secondly, I refuse to utilize that frame because I don’t have anything to prove to the public.
I am exhausted with how mask wearing and vaccinations have become the equivalent of “Hey look, I’m gifting this homeless man a fast-food meal, but here is the video of me doing it so everyone knows just how generous I truly am.”
The Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America (PNAS) recently conducted a social experiment which deduced that, “mask wearing signals prosocial concerns and is a social contract where noncompliant others are negatively evaluated.”
Protecting yourself and others is not a publicity opportunity. Nor does it make you a political hero.
Two sides have clearly emerged from this predicament, whatever you may call them. Right vs. wrong, vaccinated or unvaccinated, wholefoods- shopping health influencer against a parochial, over-patriotic fool.
I understand, it’s frustrating. I, too, am tired of holding my breath every time I walk into a quiet classroom because it’s embarrassing to sound like I just ran a 5-K when, in reality, all I did was walk up the steps a little faster than normal.
Now, don’t get me wrong, if I wear a pale pink mask, my green eyes absolutely pop, so I’m not totally hating them at the present moment.
Whatever your opinion is on masks and vaccinations (you are absolutely allowed to have one) do not advocate or reject them due to social concerns.
Refrain from judging people about their personal choices and beliefs before you entitle yourself to merely your own point of view. Because hey, if you would have stayed and talked to “Allsports,” you could have talked enough to at least get rejected.
That, my friends, is called character development.