Safwan Ahmed

Dr. Crowther

English 1101

4/24/2022

COVID-19: My Survivor Story

            According to the COVID-19 archive, 60 million people had the disease. That must have been a long time ago because now the global cases have reached over 511 million. And one out of those 511 million people, was me. In the middle of December 2020, I and my family met the infamous coronavirus. Though it lasted all of one day, and with very limited symptoms, in that one day I understood the fear of this disease that had struck the world in such an unexpected way.

            Nearly everyone either had COVID or knew someone who had COVID by the time summer 2020 had come around. I was the first one in my family, and by the time I had made an appointment to get tested, my dad and sisters were coughing too. A long car ride and irritating nose inspection later summed up the “test”. Two days later, it was confirmed: we all had COVID. It was as if we traveled to a different planet and lost our humanity. Our family members avoided us like we were the disease itself, refusing to come inside our house and wearing masks around us 24/7. Even after a week had passed, people were still overcautious around us, making our lives way more awkward than they needed to be. But it turned out for the better as the last thing we needed was my grandparents, both over 60 years old, to catch COVID from us. Fortunately, that did not happen. Unfortunately, other family members of ours did catch it and they did not share the same fate as I did.

            April 18^th, 2021 was a sad day for my father’s side of the family. His only living cousin, who I only met once 4 years before, had caught the virus and did not survive. You could say he died young, a mere age of 42, but in Islam, we do not believe in accidents so we accepted it as God’s decree. That did not alleviate the pain, however, as it was visible through the entire family that the world had lost a good person. I, for one, felt very guilty, as I saw it as “you survived but he didn’t” and now anyone who I hear has caught COVID reminds me of him. May we meet him in heaven.

            March 2020 might have been long but I think that one day in December was even longer. I was confused from the minute I woke up. It was winter but the heat was on blast and I was still freezing. It got even weirder when I came upstairs and saw that my dad and sisters were in the same predicament, covered in blankets on the living room couches, freezing. I honestly thought we were dying. To make matters infinitely worse, it was a school day, so in 2 hours we had to get to work. While my dad could sleep, I and my sisters forced ourselves to do some schoolwork, thanking God that we were in online class The entire day, we pretty much fell in and out of sleep, a clear symptom of COVID-19. and this resulted in me having a lot of overdue schoolwork, as it was a weekday. This is a recurring theme in my life.

            I don’t believe in luck, so I will call it fortune, God’s gift. By his grace, I survived the COVID-19 pandemic and my life has continued for another year. In a very similar conclusion I’d written previously, I said I’d end with hope for the future. My hope for the future is that I, nor anyone else in the world, ever have to go through the tragedy and loss that was a common result of COVID-19. Though that might just be wishful thinking, and as I write this, more people are coming down with the disease, and some dying from it, I still hope. I pray for each and everyone one of their families, and especially mine, that this disease harms them not. Maybe it will be done far before we expect it to? Who knows?

Vaccination Reclamation: The Facts

            The U.S is nearing one million COVID-19 deaths, with Black people accounting for 14% of deaths (Hill and Artiga, 2022). Though that statistic may sound reasonable, 14% of deaths are higher than the population Blacks account for in America, which is a meager 13%. Worse, only 3% of the participants in the COVID-19 vaccine trials are Black, thus possibly jeopardizing the vaccination trial’s legitimacy. Vaccine trials with a wide range of participants must develop a treatment that works for everyone. Because of evident discrepancies in modern-day care and past experiences of abuse, many Black people claim they do not trust the medical profession. Misinformation regarding the vaccine development process has also contributed to the problem. Low Black involvement in COVID-19 vaccination tests might have severe ramifications for their health and well-being in the future. The CDC reported that “rural counties had lower first-dose vaccination coverage (58.5%) than did urban counties (75.4%)” (Saelee et al., 2022). These data show that many Black American children and their families who live in poor and rural areas have not received the vaccine, despite being entitled to it through COVID-19. There are three explanations: 1) health providers have given up on this community; 2) a lack of funds has led to difficulties obtaining the vaccine; 3) cultural resistance prevents some families from vaccinating their children.

            I have written before here about the role of the health delivery system in creating health disparities for African Americans. The system is so fragmented and localized that it is difficult to get uniform access, even for people who qualify for Medicaid. Even when Black children have access to medical care, they are still less likely to receive healthy child checkups than white children. But if a child does go to a doctor, there is also evidence that they will be less likely to get immunized than their white counterpart (CDC, 2022). The CDC has tracked immunization rates nationally and in each state since 2004. In the same way that health disparities are measured by high blood pressure, smoking, and obesity rates, the CDC tracks differences in vaccination rates across races. According to their latest data, Colorado has a lower overall vaccination rate (for both regular and seasonal vaccines) than the national average, with a 4% disparity between Blacks and Whites. But the difference grows considerably if one looks only at Black children. According to information provided by COVID-19, restrictions that limit vaccine availability do not necessarily explain all this disparity. There are many factors other than vaccine access that can affect if someone gets vaccinated or not. These include personal, social, and financial barriers to vaccination.

            A survey conducted by Axios shows that “more than half of unvaccinated Americans live in households that make less than $50,000 annually” (Herman, 2021). That, coupled with the data from the Economic Policy Institute (EPI) stating that “the median Black household earned just 61 cents for every dollar of income the median white household earned” (Wilson, 2020), shows the correlation between Black people and their lack of funds and their inability to access vaccines. But is this really because of the color of their skin? I believe that it is not just because they’re Black that they are at a disadvantage. It’s because they don’t have the money to acquire vaccines, which means there’s also less chance for them to protect themselves from diseases like COVID-19. (Inflate this paragraph or add another one)

            It’s possible that cultural resistance prevents some black families from vaccinating their children. Their beliefs may be based on misconceptions about the safety and efficacy of vaccination, or they may be afraid that immunization is a form of risky experimentation. Many people, especially parents, have come to believe in certain allegations, a popular one being the belief that vaccines cause autism. While there is no proof for this allegation, suspicions rise from the very few cases (lost my citation somehow) in which this actually occurred. This belief is sometimes called “vaccine-autism,” and a 2007 survey finds that 46% of black parents are concerned that immunizations may cause autism in their children. More than half of all the public-health funding that goes to mass immunization programs is spent on those with low incomes. An estimated 85% of people eligible for the vaccine for human papillomavirus (HPV) are black, yet only about 50% receive it. “Race and race theory has always had a huge impact on how people think about vaccination, but there has not been a lot of rigorous research on who believes what and why,” says Rebecca Eisenberg, who conducted the study. (citation + inflate)

            Whether it be racial inequity by way of medical caregivers, or inability to access vaccines due to lower or lack of funds, or even contradictory beliefs and suspicions, the infinitesimal number of vaccinated Blacks is alarming. In order to safely protect themselves and their children, Black parents vaccinate their families. We can’t continue to allow our Black babies to be targeted and stricken with deadly diseases because they can’t afford vaccines. In order to make a significant impact, we need to teach our sons, Black and otherwise, that when they are born, they are not just Black but American.  A true American is not one who looks backward in time; a true American looks forward to the future. A true American is also not someone who was born into wealth; a true American is one who strives for wealth through hard work. Moving forward, Black parents should talk with their doctor about the benefits of vaccines; do additional research on vaccines online; ask your pediatrician about the schedule for your child’s vaccinations; and schedule an appointment with a local health clinic if they have further questions. A change must occur for the Black community to continue to strive as they have, and it starts now.

Rough Works Cited (to be added to, probably):

Hill, Latoya, and Artiga, Samantha. “Covid-19 Cases and Deaths by Race/Ethnicity: Current Data and Changes over Time.” KFF, Latoya Hill, Samantha Artiga, 22 Feb. 2022, https://www.kff.org/coronavirus-covid-19/issue-brief/covid-19-cases-and-deaths-by-race-ethnicity-current-data-and-changes-over-time/#:~:text=These%20age%2Dstandardized%20data%20show,19%20infection%20than%20White%20people.

Saelee, Ryan, et al. “Disparities in Covid-19 Vaccination Coverage between Urban and Rural Counties – United States, December 14, 2020–January 31, 2022.” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 3 Mar. 2022, https://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/volumes/71/wr/mm7109a2.htm#:~:text=Overall%2C%20during%20December%2014%2C%202020,and%2073.2%25%2C%20respectively).

“Covid-19 Vaccine Equity for Racial and Ethnic Minority Groups.” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 29 Mar. 2022, https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/community/health-equity/vaccine-equity.html#:~:text=Because%20of%20these%20and%20other,and%20non%2DHispanic%20White%20people.

Herman, B. (2021, July 12). Most unvaccinated people have low incomes. Axios. Retrieved April 11, 2022, from           https://www.axios.com/covid-vaccines-low-income-poor-workers-58698275-0451-4158-a967-                                 37189dbf673c.html

Wilson, V. (2020, September 16). Racial disparities in income and poverty remain largely unchanged amid                 strong income growth in 2019. Economic Policy Institute. Retrieved April 11, 2022, from                                           https://www.epi.org/blog/racial-disparities-in-income-and-poverty-remain-largely-unchanged-amid-                     strong-income-growth-in-2019/

The U.S is nearing one million COVID-19 deaths, with Black people accounting for 14% of deaths (Hill and Artiga, 2022). Though that statistic may sound reasonable, 14% of deaths are higher than the population Blacks account for in America, which is a meager 13%. Worse, only 3% of the participants in the COVID-19 vaccine trials are Black, thus possibly jeopardizing the vaccination trial’s legitimacy. Vaccine trials with a wide range of participants must develop a treatment that works for everyone. Because of evident discrepancies in modern-day care and past experiences of abuse, many Black people claim they do not trust the medical profession. Misinformation regarding the vaccine development process has also contributed to the problem. Low Black involvement in COVID-19 vaccination tests might have severe ramifications for their health and well-being in the future. The CDC reported that “rural counties had lower first-dose vaccination coverage (58.5%) than did urban counties (75.4%)” (Saelee et al., 2022). These data show that many Black American children and their families who live in poor and rural areas have not received the vaccine, despite being entitled to it through COVID-19. There are three explanations: 1) health providers have given up on this community; 2) a lack of funds has led to difficulties obtaining the vaccine; 3) cultural resistance prevents some families from vaccinating their children.

I have written before here about the role of the health delivery system in creating health disparities for African Americans. The system is so fragmented and localized that it is difficult to get uniform access, even for people who qualify for Medicaid. Even when Black children have access to medical care, they are still less likely to receive healthy child checkups than white children. But if a child does go to a doctor, there is also evidence that they will be less likely to get immunized than their white counterpart (CDC, 2022). The CDC has tracked immunization rates nationally and in each state since 2004. In the same way that health disparities are measured by high blood pressure, smoking, and obesity rates, the CDC tracks differences in vaccination rates across races. According to their latest data, Colorado has a lower overall vaccination rate (for both regular and seasonal vaccines) than the national average, with a 4% disparity between Blacks and Whites. But the difference grows considerably if one looks only at Black children. According to information provided by COVID-19, restrictions that limit vaccine availability do not necessarily explain all this disparity. There are many factors other than vaccine access that can affect if someone gets vaccinated or not. These include personal, social, and financial barriers to vaccination.

A survey conducted by Axios shows that “more than half of unvaccinated Americans live in households that make less than $50,000 annually” (Herman, 2021). That, coupled with the data from the Economic Policy Institute (EPI) stating that “the median Black household earned just 61 cents for every dollar of income the median white household earned” (Wilson, 2020), shows the correlation between Black people and their lack of funds and their inability to access vaccines. But is this really because of the color of their skin? I believe that it is not just because they’re Black that they are at a disadvantage. It’s because they don’t have the money to acquire vaccines, which means there’s also less chance for them to protect themselves from diseases like COVID-19.

Safwan Ahmed

Dr. Crowther

English 1101

3/11/2022

Rhetorical Analysis Essay

            The coronavirus pandemic prejudiced not between who it affected. It touched people from poor and wealthy nations, from the east and west, from developing to developed countries. The virus was indiscriminate. It is a blaring reminder of how fragile we are as a collective species. The disease does not discriminate, and neither do the outbreaks that can wipe out an entire population in days and weeks. The focus of society shifted from their daily lives of school, work, sleep, eating, and repeat to paying attention to what was happening in the world in social movements and politics. Images of BLM, the death place of George Floyd, and protests against police brutality show just how sidelined social justice movements had been before the pandemic and how the most significant positive that came out of the pandemic was this shift of focus.

            In the first image, a BLM protest can be seen as men and women of all races holding up signs to show their awareness of this social movement. Colors clash from the brown and white posters, one in the middle being a rainbow as notable from the LBTQ+ flag, as every person wants to have their voice heard. The text on the signs varies from “Racism the real virus,” “Trans Black Lives Matter,” “Justice Now,” “Enough is Enough,” as each message follows the next in a systemic pattern of unity. There is a clear argument in this first picture, a message to those in opposition to BLM of how wrong they are.

            The second image depicts the saddening embodiment of George Floyd’s death place. The infamous story of the officer kneeling on the neck of Floyd is well-known across America and is what started most of the riots and protests during the summer of 2020. The flowers and gifts left at his memorial show how his murder affected so many people, especially his family. The mural in the image is a painting of his most famous picture, the same photo America witnessed in the news when his death was reported. Inside each letter of the text reading “George Floyd,” a group of small figures with their fists raised in solidarity, representing BLM protestors. This whole scene is saddening in that it reminds us of the tragic murder that enraged America back in 2020.

            One would think the history books that teach us about slavery and the abuse enslaved people endured in the 1800s were just that: history. Unfortunately, police brutality has proven to be just another form of slavery, as “WE SEE POLICE GET AWAY WITH MURDER” often. This quoted statement is precisely what is written on a sign held by a female protestor in front of an officer line, as can be seen in the third and final photo. Her covered face is symbolic that we do not know the people who stood and marched outdoors in the heat of the summer of 2020 and fought for the rights of those who could not fight for themselves. The photo was taken with the woman being the focus and the officers behind her blurred out. This shows how the photographer wanted her to be the focus, while the officers cared not, some looking in another direction and the rest otherwise clueless of the message she is delivering to the viewer.

            All in all (or any other alternative to the infamous “In conclusion”), the bulk of the coronavirus pandemic was less of the actual virus and more of its impact. People from poor and wealthy countries, east and west, and developing to developed countries were affected. Society’s focus switched from school, work, sleep, eating, and repeat to paying attention to what was going on in the world, namely the social justice movements. The death of George Floyd brought to light the fact that so much of inequality was given a blind eye, and the pandemic helped to shift the focus back to what mattered, as the three chosen images combine to reflect.

Works Cited:

BLM Black Lives Matter Protest. June 7^th, 2020. Pixabay, https://pixabay.com/photos/blm-black-lives-matter-protest-5267765/

Morse, Andrew. George Floyd Memorial, 38th and Chicago, Minneapolis. A sea of flowers and

tributes. June 5^th, 2020. Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA. 

https://www.alamy.com/george-floyd-memorial-38th-and-chicago-minneapolis-a-sea-of-flowers-and-tributes-image360408103.html

Timothy A. Clary. US-POLITICS-POLICE-JUSTICE-RACISM. May 29^th, 2020.

https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/officers-stand-behing-a-protestor-holding-a-sign-during-a-news-photo/1216203667?adppopup=true

 

Ah yes, we all have the long, hopeful story of how we grew over the past 2 years. The B.C. (Before Corona) you, the Mid-Corona you, and the Post-Corona you, if we ever get there. Here’s hoping. Blended in with hope and positivity is, of course, tragedy. I myself have felt a bit of this, as many beloved people to me have died in this quarantine. My cousin, the son of my dad’s sister, fell victim to COVID-19 about 6 months ago, followed by my grandmother’s cousin and, not too long after, my mom’s aunt. And that’s just my relatives. There seemed to be a funeral every week throughout the span of time between July and December 2020. With that much death and sorrow surrounding us, I and my family needed some positivity, and boy did we get it. On September 2nd, 2020, we were blessed with the birth of my youngest sister, Sihaam. A blessing until I get annoyed with her, anyway. I jest. She is the best thing to have happened to us in the last 3 years, and the peak and highlight of this pandemic that held us captive for far too long.

And…the future. If I gained nothing positive from this pandemic, at least I learned some lessons about what to expect moving on. I despised 2019 mostly for the deaths of Juice WRLD and Cameron Boyce and swore that 2020 would be better, kickstarting a 2-year jinx of our lives. But I digress from this scandalous assumption. I learned one very valuable aspect of life from my time in quarantine and seemingly eternal boredom. This was my realization during my 2-year long quarantine, that I had taken life for granted. As I lay in bed wishing I could go out to play basketball, watch a movie, go to Six Flags, heck just go walk, I felt handicapped in my own world. I swore to myself at that moment that for the rest of my life, I would enjoy every moment, every smile, every laugh, every blink, every breath. I would never again let a moment pass by without reflecting on it and the impact it would have then and in the future. I would see the future for what it truly is: a chance to rebirth yourself, a chance to redo your past and change it to the best you can. Here’s to the future.

March 2020 felt like it was a lot longer than 31 days. America was on edge throughout the whole month, wondering what was going to happen to our daily lives. Well, our answer came abruptly, as schools, restaurants, salons, barbershops, sports, and just about every other public attraction shut down. Of course, I wasn’t affected by the schools shutting down, as I was in an online school, but it just added to the tragic nature of the pandemic. The day I knew that our lives were about to go downhill was March 15th, when a normal Sunday quickly turned into a day of foreshadowing for what was to come in the ensuing years. The minute I opened Instagram on that Sunday, the very first post of my feed left me with my eyes wide open. I don’t remember the exact title of the post, but the CDC had put out a statement that a nationwide “quarantine” was soon to begin. Now, as my mind did a flashback to that Saturday morning in December, everything made sense. I quite literally predicted the end of the world as we knew it. Well, let’s not get too dramatic, as the world is still pretty intact, but still, I knew this was going to happen. The puzzle pieces all fit together: Wuhan’s disease, the masks, CNN reporting it, and now it was here. And life only got worse and worse, as a nationwide panic caused a lack of cleaning supplies, toilet paper, and hand sanitizer being the first to go. Oh yeah, and masks. As ironic as it sounds, the one object the world put their faith into was running out, as masks disappeared from stores faster than TV’s on Black Friday. 

Summer 2020 was…not your average summer, to say the least. Instead of “hot *insert gender* summer”, it was hot pandemic summer…hot cases summer…hot-out-but-everyone-in summer…I think you get the point. Instagram and TikTok kept everyone occupied as they couldn’t really leave the house for fear that the plague would sweep them up like a broom on a dusty attic floor. But enough imagery and foolery, the summer wasn’t that bad. Though we were all relating to the lyrics “Bored in the house, and I’m in the house bored,” the song that quite literally spelled out the entire year for us, the internet did its job: We were entertained by TikTok trends, Instagram Live videos, Netflix shows, and Hulu throwbacks, as we pretended there wasn’t an outside world we longed to be a part of. I was no different, let me tell you, gaming and watching TV was basically my whole summer break. I both read and watched the whole Harry Potter series, watched the whole Transformers, Marvel, and Star Wars series, and 9 seasons of Grey’s Anatomy (I’m sorry, this show is a waste of time). I have a home gym so I kinda, keyword kinda, kept in shape, or so I think I did, someone else is going to have to be the judge of that. And to top off all this positivity, that summer leading to the beginning of the new school year was when I discovered my newfound obsession with archery. It’s just been uphill ever since and I’d say I’m pretty good at it now. Don’t test me, though…seriously.

The last vivid memory I have from before quarantine began was a community cookout I went to in early February. It was very far from your average Sunday afternoon, with everyone and their mothers at a park talking, others screaming, children running around, and everyone altogether having a great time. I had never seen so many people in one place before and to this day, I still haven’t. But enough about the people, let’s get a little self-absorbed here. I was pretty well-dressed, well that is, if you ask me, donning a crisp black-and-white striped Adidas shirt, matching Adidas pants, complete with my late white Air Force Ones (may they rest in ashes). Anyone who saw me would think I came to a fashion show or a basketball game, which to say the least, wasn’t too far off. This was due to the fact that the highlight of the day was me and my friends disappearing from the scene to go play basketball at the outdoor court two blocks down, this one game being the most fun I’ve had since. Someday, I hope to have a rematch…because we lost horribly. I don’t want to talk about it.

Now outside the realm of positivity, another very vivid memory I have is waking up on a Saturday morning in December around 12 something P.M. I know this was the time because my dad would’ve been watching football, had it been past 1 PM. But here he was, watching a news report of a city in China named Wuhan with hundreds of millions of people walking around the city wearing masks. I had never seen anything like this before. No one ever believes me when I tell them this story, but I had a strong feeling the plague in Wuhan was bound to reach us someday…and boy was I right. 2 years and a month and a half later, we are still pretty much in the same predicament, we can’t leave home without a mask or some random person might alter the rest of our lives with a single cough. I would say it’s a lot better now, but to be honest, we’ve had so many different versions of the same stupid disease that it’s turning into Invasion Of The Body Snatchers. At this point, we don’t even know what to call it anymore, cause I’m not sure omicron is catchy enough, so let’s stick to COVID-19. But as we hope to have our positive world back, and to never see another mask again besides in Grey’s Anatomy, all we can do is pray that each year is better than the last. Let’s go 2022!

You can pretty much ignore that title because I highly doubt I will ever be as inspirational and legendary as Ms. Yousafzai. And if that bit of self-deprecation doesn’t tell you all you need to know about me, here’s the generic rundown:

My name is Safwan Ahmed, and I was born in Atlanta, GA. My parents are from Somalia, however, so I often say I’m from Somalia to not seem indifferent, but either way works. My interests/hobbies are watching and playing sports, gaming, martial arts, archery (whenever I get to it), and learning random things that make me sound smart, like pathophysiology and quantum physics. Yeah, that’s about it.