This is How I Will Explain It All

I need to talk to you, my dear child, about this strange time and what it taught me.

BY: JINGSHU YAO

Dear Child,

I don’t know how old you are, what gender you are, or if you will have any siblings. I am not sure when you will come or where, in which country or city. What I like about humans’ limited perception of time and space is that nothing is certain, so there will always be space for imagination. That’s what allows me to talk to you at this moment.

Despite everything I am unsure of, I am clear about the reason that I want to talk to you at this moment. My world is in the middle of a crisis and I know that one day, I will have to tell you about this strange time.

Date back to decades ago. Near the end of the year 2019, a pandemic originated from Wuhan, China, and soon spread across the country. I was finishing my last semester at university, an ocean away from home, far away from the origin of the virus. I wasn’t concerned about my own safety at first; the long distance between Canada and China reduced the power of the virus to a tale. The only thing I worried about was the health of my family back home and whether my parents could get a visa in time to attend my convocation. 

In my imagination, June 2020 looked like a  graduation gown, the lawn, the iconic University College building, sunlight, a framed diploma, smile, my parents’ first visit to Canada, our photo together on the lawn in front of University College under the sunshine, wearing the gown, holding the diploma. I pictured my boyfriend taking the photo for me and my parents, and then my parents taking a photo of the two of us. I would take my parents for lunch, show them around downtown Toronto and Scarborough, and we’d go on a trip to Vancour, to Montreal, to the Rockies, to the seaside. We’d get on the same flight to go home and for the first time in three years, I would live in my childhood bedroom for more than a month. I would visit my extended family members, catch up with my friends, and secretly be proud of being the first to graduate among all of them.

Illustration retrieved here

Yet in reality, the coronavirus, known as COVID-19, made its way across the globe and caused millions of infections and deaths. Countries locked down their borders and cancelled international transportation; cities announced emergency status and most shopping malls, restaurants, public services, and educational institutions were shut down. When the quarantine started in mid-March, most of us thought it would be finished in a few weeks. My professor left his office without taking the cactus pots on his desk since they could survive up to a month without watering. However, a month became two, then it felt like the quarantine may never end. 

My convocation was on a cloudy day and my parents were asleep on the other end of the earth. I was in my tiny room alone in Scarborough. My boyfriend had self-quarantined at his own place, and my roommates were either asleep or in video lectures. No gown, no diploma, no photoshoot. The arrangement of the video convocation sounded so boring that I didn't even feel excited about watching it. The travel restrictions were still up, but I didn’t even have any valid travel documents to leave anyways. My fellow graduating students congratulated each other in group chats. The reality felt unreal. I could never imagine my graduation to be like this a few months before, just like I could never imagine what you look like at this moment. 

Of course, I wasn’t the only one who experienced disappointment, and being unable to have a proper graduation wasn’t the worst thing that could happen during a pandemic. Yet it made me think about all the uncertainty and unexpected events in our lives. Whenever I took a walk around my neighbourhood early in the morning, I saw animals killed on the driveway: squirrels, raccoons, finches. They must have lost their lives the night before and had not yet been cleared away. Sometimes they looked peaceful, as if they happened to fall asleep in the middle of the road. Sometimes the scene looked bloody, with their intestines spread on the ground, or their brains smashed open. In some ways, we are all like the wildlife on the dark road, and the events in our lives could hit us any time like like a truck.

These events, though uncertain and unpredictable, are not necessarily always disasters. Even though the pandemic had destroyed all my plans for travelling and reunions, and made me stuck in my small bedroom, it taught me much more than I could have imagined. For the first time in a long while, I had so much time to read and write. While my roommates and I used to be occupied by school and social lives, and reserved to ourselves, the quarantine had turned us into each other’s only source of company. We talked about stories of growing up in different parts of the world, and I felt as if I visited Lima, Brussels, or New Delhi standing in the kitchen of my house. I wished that you would get to know the aunties who shaped my early 20s. I realized that even as an introvert, I couldn’t stand a long-term isolation; and as much as I consider myself independent, my longing for the home that I can’t return to grows day by day. Spending a lot of time with my mind helped me understand more of myself, and appreciate people around me more. 

Image retrieved here

Not all the lessons are heartwarming and inspiring. Since China was where the pandemic originated from, the world blamed us for bringing them the crisis. The abstract anger soon became hate against people with Asian features. For this reason, I almost got refused service in a taxi, and a stranger yelled “go fucking home” at me on the street. The worst thing about experiencing racism is the change of your state of mind. Whenever I run into someone who circled around me in a grocery store or passengers who stepped away when I got on a bus, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were discriminating against me, or if they might just be politely maintaining social distance. I sincerely hope that by the time you hear the story, such incidents will never be repeated, yet another part of me knows that racism isn’t an issue that can be solved in a few decades. My child, please remember that whatever skin tone or facial feature you have shouldn’t define who you are.

The global pandemic I am experiencing now might be once in a century, but it surely had an impact on my life, and indirectly on yours. I write this letter to tell you the story and what it taught me. I imagine you reading it in an uncertain time and place in the uncertain future, trying to ignore the fact that I might never have you, and nothing I imagine will ever exist. 

Love you,

Ma