Once upon a time, I was a pajama warrior. America was asked for “15 days to stop the spread” and I complied. From home, I watched as the fear-counter continuously ticked away on my television screen, listing COVID-19 cases and COVID-19 deaths. My Facebook feed was filled with tutorials on homemade mask construction. I tried my hand at making some masks out of paper towels and rubber bands—proudly sharing. I had latex gloves shipped to my door. Although these weren’t the brightest moments of my life, I did manage to stay away from Netflix’s Tiger King.
After a few weeks, my money ran dry. So, I put on my Covid gear and went back to work as a personal shopper. I discovered that local markets now resembled my grandmother’s plastic-coated living room: everything and everyone made plastic safe. Buffet-style sneeze shields hovering in midair, separating people. Rolls and rolls of masking tape used to create a human maze: directional arrows controlled my path and plastic strips controlled my stance. Masks of all types and shapes were worn on every body. I was awash in fear and sanitizer, and, so, I happily complied. As I walked the one-way aisles, I was thankful that COVID-19 was so polite: respecting distance and directional rules as it did.
I wish I could say that I quickly understood that masks and distancing did not work—but that would be untrue. Like so many pajama warriors, I danced around plexiglass to avoid the COVID-19 boogieman. I even wore a mask to Thanksgiving dinner in 2020, but—thankfully—it was then that the spell was broken. I became aware that the media narrative never changed despite contrary information. I started doing my own research, and I started to realize how much fear was controlling my behavior.
I know now that wearing a mask “not intended for medical purposes” is as useful as relying on a pool noodle to keep afloat in 10-foot waves. Aside from the germ pro-and-con debate, of which, many articles have been written, I contend that mask-wearing creates a psychological minefield—a minefield best avoided. For starters, mask-wearing promotes a world in where we are constantly conditioned to feel unsafe. Since mask-wearing is touted as creating safe—not unsafe—conditions, I contend that mask-wearing is the ultimate gaslighting exercise.
It starts with the ritualistic procedure of putting on a COVID-19 mask. Like with all good rituals, it’s a simple act that requires just a few simple steps: take out the mask, attach it to one ear, and then the other ear. It takes only a few seconds to perform, but it is the same thing done in the same order—over and over again. It can be done alone or in groups. It signals that you are a part of a morally superior group. It makes people feel that they are safe.
Indeed, rituals are thought to relieve stress and improve cognition (Psychology Today, O’Connell); however, it is here that the COVID-19 ritual falls out of alignment with other, more positive, rituals. The false sense of security culled from mask-wearing is countered by a constant stream of visual and sensory reminders of sickness and death. Since the mind is an all-powerful tool, this constant fear reminder is incredibly dangerous.
If we train ourselves to be afraid then we precondition our bodies to accept illness, increasing our chances of getting sick as well as increasing the amount of time it takes to heal. Could this be why Florida—despite lax mask rules and a high elderly population—was not a Petri dish of infection like it ought to have been if mask-wearing performed as advertised? Could mask-wearing actually increase our chances of getting sick and staying sick? A placebo is, after all, just a placebo: it can produce a positive or a negative result.
This worry-mind is then further exasperated through isolation: humans need humans. Since human companionship and communication is essential to healing, isolation is as dangerous as fear to a healthy life. When visitor bans were imposed at “care” facilities, dementia skyrocketed. In many cases, Grandma was forced to die alone. And we call ourselves a civilized society. But being in the company of each other is not enough.
The human connection is most effective when we can use all of our senses to communicate. The effectiveness of nonverbal communication has been understood since 1967 when Mehrabian and Wiener concluded that nonverbal factors are responsible for 93% of human communication. Now add masks into this equation. We can no longer see a smile, a smirk or a frown. We can no longer hear a clear voice or a clear laugh.
I wonder, is it just a coincidence that masks came on the scene the same time that mal-, mis-, and disinformation became a thing? Masks and censorship emerging and converging at the same time. A time when we, collectively, ceased to trust what others had to say. A time where we were constantly reminded to conform, to mute our voices, and to give away our power.
This giving away of our human power hit home for me when I attended a funeral mass in 2021. Masks were required in this Catholic church and, so, masks were tear-soaked. Then when the priest offered communion, he offered only the body (bread) and not the blood (wine) of Christ, stating that the wine wasn’t safe. Fear consciousness proved so pervasive that the healing ritual of Christ’s sacrifice—and Christ’s ability to heal—disregarded in favor of COVID fear. COVID compliance protecting more than Christ. Safety versus connection—even with God himself— positioned as the prized possession.
As the Covid-tooth-tiger prepares to pounce once more, I wonder what we will define as sacred this time around the block. Will it be a mask, a human connection, the power of the human mind, God? Like the childhood game of old, one does not belong. Perhaps, there is more to “being safe” and “staying safe” than sanitization.
Stay “safe” everyone.
A Thoughtful Voice 