Masks On
By Sheila Bock
In early April, after a few weeks of living under self-quarantine with my family due to COVID-19, I received a package in the mail. It was from my mom in southern California, and it contained cloth masks she had made for each of us: me, my husband, and my two kids (ages 2 and 4). At that time, my family and I had established a pandemic routine of sorts, one that included playing baseball in our front yard after dinner to help expend some of the excess energy of staying home all day. In crafting her masks, my mom selected a sports-themed fabric as a reference to this nightly family activity – and as a way to entice her grandchildren to wear them. Each mask included each person’s initials embroidered into it. My sister in northern California also received a package in the mail for her family.
My mom is very skilled in the art of sewing, and she has often put these skills to use for people in her family, making things ranging from elaborate Halloween costumes to custom stuffed toys for her grandchildren to personalized Christmas stockings to wedding dresses for both of her daughters. I was not at all surprised, then, that she put her skills to work in researching different mask patterns, selecting fabrics, and sewing these thoughtful gifts for each of us.
The author and her 4-year-old son trying on for the first time the masks that her mom sent in the mail. Photo/Sheila Bock.
This was around the time that the public health messaging from the CDC began to recommend that people wear fabric face coverings when going into public spaces, and my Facebook feed was beginning to fill with photos of friends wearing homemade masks, along with generous offers to make and mail masks to friends who wanted them. Within these spaces I saw DIY masks circulating in networks of care, tangible artifacts of community connection amidst the new and unsettling “norm” of social distancing.
And my mom’s masks were doing similar work. Recognizing the challenges my husband and I faced working full time and staying home 24/7 with two small children, my mom said more than once that she wished she could come out to Las Vegas to help us. And under more typical circumstances (that is, when we weren’t each sheltering-in-place to help stop the spread of a dangerous virus), she absolutely would have. So while being physically present to help was not an option, she was able to make and send us masks, giving tangible form to the sentiments: “I am thinking about you.” “Even though I can’t be there, I am doing what I can to help you and your family.” “I love you.”
Indeed, in those early days of pandemic living and extending onward into the present, these tangible artifacts linking me to family I can’t be with have provided a distinct source of comfort amidst the anxieties of changed routines, uncertain futures, reports of overrun hospitals, and news of rising rates of coronavirus deaths.
The author’s parents wearing homemade masks on their morning walk in the neighborhood. Photo/Fran Bock.
A few weeks ago, one of my husband’s family members, someone who thinks the virus is not as serious as the media claims, asked him, “How can you breathe in that thing?” By “that thing,” she was referring to the mask he was wearing. “Very easily, actually,” he replied. Now, to be clear, wearing a mask can be a bit uncomfortable, and I am looking forward to the time when we don’t need to wear them. For my husband and I, though, wearing a mask in public is a no-brainer, especially as the body of scientific evidence that wearing masks does help decrease the spread of the virus continues to grow.
It has been disturbing to see videos of belligerent customers berating (and physically attacking) employees for enforcing store policies requiring masks; to see news reports of public officials refusing to wear masks; to hear accounts of anti-maskers “baaa-ing” at masked customers in the parking lot of a grocery store, likening them to mindless sheep; to see wearing a mask linked to weakness, emasculation, and loss of freedom rather than respect and care for the health of others. It has been disheartening to see how wearing a mask, in the current political landscape, works to demarcate boundaries along partisan lines, how wearing a mask has taken on meanings that extend beyond wanting to help stop the spread of a dangerous virus.
Photo/Rosemary Hathaway.
Like when we had some plumbing issues. When the plumber arrived to assess the problem, we answered the door wearing masks and asked him to wear a mask in the house. He was visibly annoyed at the request, and when he did begrudgingly put it on, he left his nose uncovered. After he left, my husband called our home warranty company to ask them to send somebody else for a second opinion. During that call, he asked them to make sure whomever they sent would be wearing a mask, since the last person did not seem to be very careful. The home warranty representative replied, “Well, it has become such a political issue,” and my husband responded, “No, it’s actually a health issue.” We were grateful when the plumber who came the next day was wearing a mask.
My husband and I both have jobs that allow us to work from home – even when restrictions were lifted we have remained cautious, and we stay home as much as possible. In fact, our day-to-day life now looks very similar to our day-to-day life when things began to shut down in March. We were grateful when the governor, following the recommendations of medical and public health professionals, mandated that people in Nevada wear face coverings while in public spaces. When we do go out in public, we wear our masks, and we intentionally keep distance from people who do not.
Unfortunately, that initial plumbing issue created some extensive water damage in our house, leading to a lot of new people coming into our space. We asked each person to wear a mask. Most were cooperative, though more than once the foreman we worked with expressed frustration at the request. A few days into our work together, as we wrapped up for the day and were walking toward the door, we asked him about the timeline for the work that still needed to be done. He said he had to check with one of the workers, who was swamped at the moment with multiple projects. He tried to make a joke of it by saying, “He is overwhelmed with work right now. He’s all, ‘I can’t breathe!’”
He looked at us, with a smile in his eyes, waiting for us to laugh in response.
After a moment of silence, I said, “I don’t understand,” Though I did.
“I Can't Breathe,” George Floyd & Anti-Racist Street Art. https://georgefloydstreetart.omeka.net/items/show/154.
The Black Lives Matter protests that erupted after the murder of George Floyd were happening all over the country. As he was dying, Floyd said repeatedly, “I can’t breathe!” These words were also spoken by Eric Garner, another Black man who died at the hands of police brutality in 2014, and have been heavily foregrounded in Black Lives Matter protests. I had already seen examples of anti-mask protestors repurposing this phrase for their own ends, as in the case of Arizona City Councilman Guy Phillips, trivializing the tragedies that BLM protests are responding to.
“You know, like George Floyd,” he replied, pointing to the ground, apparently referencing how he died on the ground with a police officer’s knee against his neck.
“That’s not funny. That’s horrifying.”
He tried to bring it back to the mask we had asked him to wear: “I can’t breathe in this thing. I can’t breathe!”
In the long, uncomfortable silence that followed, he walked out the door.
As a folklorist, I study how informal expressive culture gives shape to community values and concerns. The traditions of gift-giving we participate in, the ways we adorn our bodies, the jokes we tell and the jokes we laugh at -- these all communicate something about the social worlds in which we live and how we situate ourselves in those social worlds. The culture of masks that has emerged over these last few months in the United States -- how masks are made, how they are distributed, how and when they are worn (or not), how they are interpreted by others – offers an especially rich illustration of how our informal expressive culture can simultaneously work to reinforce our sense of connection to others and lay bare tensions within our communities.
Photo/Rosemary Hathaway.
Since that first package in April, my mom has continued to send us homemade masks from California. The most recent batch for the kids features images of Snoopy, since she knows that both of my sons love Peanuts cartoons. Her thoughtful attention to detail continues to make me smile.
As I interact with people, both inside and outside my house, I find it very comforting to see others wearing masks. In these oh-so-anxious times, it indicates to me that they are taking the coronavirus threat seriously, that they are concerned about the health and well-being of others, that they care about the community at large. Hopefully, seeing me wearing my mask provides a little bit of comfort to others as well.
The author’s 2-year old son saying “cheese” for the camera while wearing a Snoopy-themed mask his grandma made for him. Photo/Sheila Bock.
Sheila Bock is associate professor in the Department of Interdisciplinary, Gender, and Ethnic Studies at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. As a folklorist, she delights in discovering the powerful and creative ways people make sense of the world around them and their place within it, from the things they make to the stories they tell to the rituals they participate in. She has lived in Las Vegas since 2011.
Thank you for visiting Humanities Heart to Heart, a program of Nevada Humanities. Any views or opinions represented in posts or content on the Humanities Heart to Heart webpage are personal and belong solely to the author or contributor and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. At no time are these posts understood to promote particular political, religious, or ideological points of view; advocate for a particular program or social or political action; or support specific public policies or legislation on behalf of Nevada Humanities, its staff, any donor, partner, or affiliated organization. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on these posts or found by following any link embedded in these posts. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on the Humanities Heart to Heart webpage at any time.