Why COVID-19 Makes Me Feel Guilty for Resting
Sandy Nguyen
When public health and social measures for COVID-19 began back in March, I was lucky enough to keep my job and work from home. As BIPOC, we all face unique challenges during this pandemic. Many are disproportionately impacted by the virus, others remain in unsafe working conditions because quitting means losing their homes, others quit their jobs due to unsafe working conditions, others were laid off, many lost their families and close friends to the virus, others went through quarantine alone, others lived in areas where they had no access to clean running water, parents had to balance work and children, we all struggled with wanting to see our loved ones but wanting to protect ourselves as well, etc.
Then came the post that a lot of my Asian family members shared: “If you don’t come out of this quarantine with either:
1.) a new skill
2.) starting what you’ve been putting off like a new business
3.) more knowledge You didn’t ever lack the time, you lacked the discipline”
Briefly, I agreed. It seemed as if since the monotonous, time consuming activities you would normally do were taken out of the equation, so now you had more free time, within your means and privilege, to explore new activities, work on yourself, read more books, cook more exotic recipes you wouldn’t usually make, have Zoom parties, paint, do yoga, all these things we may not have normally done. Then, I was upset and had to step back to assess my emotions. I examined my privilege (or lack of) compared to what other people on my social media were doing and realized how unhappy I was in quarantine. I was envious because it seemed as if everyone was pursuing new hobbies and engaging in fun distractions except me. Why can’t I make sourdough bread too? Why didn’t I have the energy to participate in Zoom parties?
Then I saw an edited version that ended with,
“You’re doing just fine. We are going through a collective traumatic experience. Not everyone has the privilege of turning a pandemic into something fun or productive.”;
I also agreed. More importantly, I subscribe to the belief that we may be in the same storm, but we are not all in the same boat. At its core, this was a tone-deaf post. I’ve been in a constant state of exhaustion and my mental and physical health have always been compromised, exacerbated by what others were doing or not doing. There are so many communities less privileged that I am that are negatively impacted by COVID-19, that coming off with a go-getter, superiority complex was a harmful mentality. It operates on the expectation that everyone has these resources readily and easily accessible to them to help cope through quarantine.
But what does this have to do with being Asian? I realized what I was feeling was the effects of toxic Asian hustler mentality. This is the mentality that somehow convinces us that we have to be exceptional every waking moment to feel respected or validated. Painting the pandemic as a picture of personal opportunity is a perfect lie that makes us feel bad for not being overachievers and places us in that constant cycle of comparing ourselves to others, one we’re all too familiar with.
For those who did not grow up with generational wealth or privilege, this lie is conditioned within us through the model minority myth, trauma, and tiger parenting, all intersecting with what capitalism makes us internalize as the working and lower class. These ideologies taught us that if we’re too stagnant and not jumping at every chance to capitalize off of something (academically, professionally, monetarily, etc.), then we’re “lazy” or unaccomplished. There is no time to rest and start fun hobbies, because “When will we ever have this time again?” We must always be hustling. We must always be profiting from our daily actions. You may have even grown up in a household where the bare minimum was an expectation, rather than something to be praised for. My parents were immigrants who raised me with a classic tiger parenting style, so as I reflect on all of the emotions I’ve had since quarantine began, I see how it impacts me in the time of COVID-19. The reality is a lot of our parents and grandparents operated on “survival mode” for such a long time, whether in the U.S. or their home countries. They may have come from backgrounds where they were impoverished, hungry, and working every single day since they were young. My grandma and my mother for one would tell me stories about how they had to start taking care of their households before they were 10 years old. When someone grows up in particular lifestyle, it makes sense that they pass on, intentionally or unintentionally, these “hard working, gritty, back breaking” values and expectations to their children. Because when you’re trying to survive a traumatic situation, there is no time to rest in ways that you need to rest. And this is something that is taught to Asian American children all the time: “If my family can go through all of THAT and survive, then I can take advantage of this pandemic and be a hustler 24/7, right?”
I felt overwhelmed with my environment, but I also felt like I wasn’t doing enough (and to be honest, since this country is dealing with the pandemic so terribly, I still feel like this). Holding down a full-time job didn’t feel like enough. But I felt like I wasn’t allowed to enjoy my “free time” or that I didn’t have any. I had to take on another job to care for my family, I started a certificate program because I wanted my summer to be “meaningful”, I participate in civil discourse and antiracist activism every day, piling on as much as I could on my plate, yet COVID-19 makes me feel guilty if I take a moment to relax. As Asian Americans, we constantly deal with imposter syndrome and overcompensate for these feelings in unhealthy ways by overworking, competing with others, and pushing our mental and physical thresholds. And that’s why we start judging and being frustrated with others: we don’t allow ourselves time to rest, and we force ourselves to go through the pain and exhaustion of overworking, because that’s what we’ve been taught and that’s what we’re used to seeing from our parents or grandparents. We project those feelings (valid feelings!) onto others who aren’t doing the same. We may get angry at the blatant privilege other people exploit—privilege that we may not have. These feelings manifest as anxiety, depression, stress, regret, self-destructive behavior, resentment, and ultimately compromise our well-being.
Consider this: surviving and thriving during a pandemic is great. Everyone has their own definition of productivity. But as Asian Americans, how much of our mental, physical, and emotional health has already been sacrificed prior to the pandemic with the goal of being productive and successful?
How long have we subjected ourselves to the false and unhealthy notion that if we’re not starting our own business, creating a non-profit, mastering a new skill, getting a degree, or managing a 4.0, then we’re not worthy?
For me, this is why it’s important to consider what to prioritize during these times. In recent months of protesting and activism, there is added pressure of feeling like we’re not contributing enough (in this case, as non-Black POC, there is so much we still have to do for the movement), but I know we should be actively engaging in antiracist action while being sure to not overwhelm ourselves and slip into performative activism. If you’re bored, find hobbies that you genuinely enjoy. Journal, play Animal Crossing, bake more, do what makes you feel better in the face of isolation and doubt. We should also divest from the mentality that everything we do needs to be a marketable or profitable skill. It doesn’t. We should strip ourselves of the idea that productivity is tied to our quality of life. It’s not. Not only is that wrong, it’s ableist.
Resting without guilt and being gentle with ourselves may feel like a privilege for many, but for others, we have to learn how to integrate it into our lives. Moreover, adopting daily acts of self-care for Asian Americans is, oftentimes, a new skill and will look different from those who are not familiar with the culture. So while I have many mixed feelings about the belief that we need to leave quarantine (whenever that happens) with monumental accomplishments, I also believe we can and should first focus on coming out of this quarantine 1) alive, 2) confident in our efforts to keep pushing for social justice and abolition, and 3) as a better community and people.