COVID-19: a year of women, in particular non-white women, falling behind

Over a year of lockdowns, quarantining, covid testing, and hospitalizations in New York City, women have beared the brunt of the pandemic

The year of 2020 will perhaps forever be, or at least feels as though it will be, tainted by lockdowns, quarantining, covid testing, and feelings of despair. All of these, in most, if not all, parts of the world, have followed us right into 2021. No one would deny that most individuals on the planet have been impacted by the pandemic in some way and continue to be today. Things are looking a little more promising these days, particularly in New York and across the United States. I certainly find myself fluctuating between feelings of relief and excitement for the things that I can now more comfortably and safely do, but also resentment for feeling this way, because we didn’t get to where we are today unscathed, and it’s hard to forget that. While so many of us are enjoying the ability to see friends and family in different cities and states, without the worry of getting seriously ill or inflicting this on our loved ones, so many are not here today to bask in this newfound freedom.

Women, compared to men, were hit significantly harder by the pandemic. More broadly speaking, women have had to uphold the household, raise children, and keep on top of their online education, and relinquish their statistically lower paid jobs compared to their male counterparts. NWNY volunteer Jessie, who moved to the United States from South Korea at 18 years of age to pursue higher education, divorced 16 years ago, and lives with her son. She shared: “Divorced women with children are not easily accepted by Korean society – back in Korea, and also in Korean communities here.” For many women in this and similar positions, the loss of support systems has been exacerbated by the pandemic. Women had made historic job gains over the past decade, which the pandemic completely wiped out. Evidence shows that female workers have been more adversely affected by the pandemic than men. For example, in September of 2020, 1.1 million people left the workforce, 865,000 of which were women. Dorothy, from Nigeria, who lost her job during the pandemic and became the sole caregiver to her husband when he got severely ill from Covid, shared: “Coming from 2020, a lot of people have been through so much, and I feel like immigrant women have been through much more.” To listen her complete story, click here.

Historically speaking, New Security Beat suggests that “it took women longer than men to recover from the Great Recession and the impact of COVID will likely result in a similar slow recovery for women.” If the past is anything to go by, we women are going to have a lot to catch up on when the pandemic is over, whenever that may be. Sooyeon, a We Speak We LEAD graduate, is from South Korea, moved to the US, and is divorced as well. She, too, lives with her son. As a classical musician, and hence, predominantly freelance, Sooyeon lost a lot of work opportunities and income due to the pandemic. In her opinion, because of the stay-at-home orders, everyone spent a lot of time by themselves. On the one hand, Sooyeon felt that “I must do this, this, and this, but I felt so terrible, struggling with what I should do. My mind and body were not working together.” And on the other hand, she had plenty of time to assess herself: “I was looking at myself directly, and deeper, so I could find out what is my weakness, and why, and I could figure it out, and heal myself.”

Looking beyond gender, as a white person I have not been as adversely affected as my non-white female counterparts, who have beared the brunt of the pandemic. This is why I struggle with feeling frustrated and complaining, because I know that I could be worse off, a possibility based solely on the color of my skin, something that cannot be controlled. Researching for and writing this piece really put this into perspective for me. But at the same time, I acknowledge that I will never fully understand the extent of this. Of the 865,000 women who left the workforce, almost half were Black or Latina. One in nine Black and Latina women were unemployed, a 57% higher rate than that among white women.

In general, BIPOC (Black, Indigenous and People of Color) represent almost half of essential workers, at 40%, yet they only comprise about 23% of the country’s population, and the rest of us have relied so heavily on essential workers throughout the last year. Think of grocery store workers, delivery employees, farmers, and mail carriers, for example. And on top of this, women are the most likely to take on these essential worker jobs, like maids, personal care and home care health aides, housekeeping cleaners, and nursing assistants, all of which did not have the luxury of working from home throughout the darkest days of the pandemic, putting themselves at a higher risk of contracting the disease in doing so. In addition, Black and Afro-American people have been hit disproportionately by the virus, with hospitalisations and death rates far higher than those of whites. People of color are lagging in receiving the vaccine, and this can be seen at vaccination sites. For example, the neighbourhood of Canarsie, a predominantly African-American neighborhood, saw lines of young, white individuals with scheduled vaccine appointments.

While we are elated and relieved that the US has rolled out the vaccine so quickly and everyone who wants one is able to get one, it is hard to ignore the fact that the seriousness and fatality of the virus was dismissed for so long, and that 600,000 individuals died as a result of this. It is easy to see and understand the privilege that the US has, as a country, but that is not necessarily the privilege that everyone in the country has. We know that for some, getting a vaccine is difficult, e.g., if you live rurally and don’t have easy access to the internet and social media to keep you updated on eligibility, or if you’re undocumented and are worried about exposing your status. The latter issue was discussed on a recent NWNY community call. A member of our community shared that one of her friends, undocumented, expressed dire concern of exposure and deportation if he were to seek out attaining a vaccine. On many occasions, the media has both downplayed and exacerbated the effects and consequences of the virus and the vaccine; no wonder so many have struggled with knowing who and what to believe. The pandemic became a point of political contention, and plain science was disregarded; it still is being disregarded.

While I have been enjoying a somewhat normal summer in NYC with a full reopening of the city, it is hard to imagine a world fully rid of this virus or fully enjoying this freedom, while so many other parts of the world are so far behind in their vaccine rollouts. For example, my home country, Australia, has been in and out of lockdowns since the beginning of the pandemic and has kept its international borders well shut. I, and many others, do not know when we will return home next, be reunited with our loved ones. This is a feeling I’ve felt for well over a year now, and seems to be never-ending.

Jessie stated: “As an immigrant, as a woman, and as an Asian, I will always be asked where I am from; I knew that that was something that was not going to change much. That feeling had sort of almost disappeared, but then, with the former administration  along with the pandemic, it became even stronger. I was fooling myself into thinking that it would just sort of disappear.” Chloe is a friend of mine, who moved from China to New York to pursue her college education. Afterwards, she entered the workforce and now shares a similar feeling: “It’s like constantly being reminded that you’re only given a “half life”, or just because of the circumstances, you can’t be fully, 100%, your potential.”

Jessie expressed that, earlier on, when news about the COVID-19 outbreak had just emerged, friends and family back home recommended that she wear a mask, and she followed their recommendation. Given that not many New Yorkers were wearing masks at the time, because of her appearance, she noticed that others looked at her strangely. On top of this, hate crimes and discrimination against the AAPI community started increasing, and her loved ones did not want her to leave the house.

On racially-targeted attacks against the AAPI (Asian American and Pacific Islander) community in the US, Chloe shared: “Of course, the choice of me trying to live a life here is mine and I can’t just expect things to work for me in a foreign country, but what about US citizens who happen to look like me? The existence of racially targeted hate crime is just evidence that even they are not entirely accepted as proper citizens of this country, and even if their families have lived in the US for a long time, because of their looks, they’re still under the shadow of the existing conflict of interest between the US and China. Just due to their skin color, they’re being rejected and persecuted.”

Jessie offered an optimistic perspective on the power that social media has had throughout the pandemic: “If you need help, there’s help out there, but you have to seek it. If you were struggling before the pandemic, I think the pandemic made it worse; it was the perfect environment to make yourself completely isolated. The pandemic made organizations much more visible in the community, especially through social media, and I think that is a great thing.”

To listen to more stories from immigrant women affected by the pandemic, visit Real People. Real Lives. Women Immigrants of New York