Introduction
The COVID-19 pandemic, which emerged in late 2019 and rapidly spread globally, represents one of the most significant public health crises in modern history. As an anthropology student, I have explored how pandemics shape societies, drawing on diverse sources such as ancient DNA, skeletal remains, and personal journals to understand events like the Black Death or the 1918 influenza. This reflection assignment invites me to contribute my own experiences to the historical record, much like the journals that inform our studies of past plagues. In this essay, I will address key aspects of my COVID-19 story, including my physical location and age during the pandemic, the day-to-day changes I experienced, connections to anthropological themes of pandemics and stigma, and my family’s response to the vaccine. By weaving personal narrative with broader anthropological insights, I aim to highlight how individual stories illuminate collective human experiences during crises. This reflection, written from my perspective as a Canadian university student, draws on verified sources to contextualize my account, emphasizing the interplay between personal agency and societal structures.
Where I Was During the Pandemic
During the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, particularly from March 2020 onwards, I was living at home with my parents and two younger siblings in a suburban area of Ontario, Canada. At the time, I was 13 years old and in grade 8, navigating the awkward transition from childhood to adolescence amid unprecedented global upheaval. My younger sister was 9 years old, still in elementary school, and my little brother was just 3 years old, too young to fully comprehend the chaos unfolding around us. Our family home became our entire world, a safe haven yet also a confined space where we had to adapt to new realities. This period coincided with school closures, forcing me into remote learning, which was a stark contrast to the interactive classroom environment I was accustomed to. Living in Canada meant we were subject to provincial lockdowns enforced by the Ontario government, which aligned with national guidelines from Health Canada to curb the virus’s spread (Public Health Agency of Canada, 2020). Being in a multi-generational household amplified the challenges, as we balanced the needs of young children with the demands of online education and parental work-from-home arrangements. This setting, while protective, underscored the inequalities in pandemic experiences; not everyone had the luxury of a stable home or reliable internet access, themes often discussed in anthropological analyses of health disparities (Singer and Clair, 2003).
My COVID-19 Experience and Day-to-Day Changes
My experience during the COVID-19 pandemic was marked by a prolonged period of full lockdown, which began in March 2020 and lasted for approximately a year in varying degrees of strictness. In Ontario, the initial state of emergency declared by Premier Doug Ford shut down all non-essential services, leaving only hospitals, grocery stores, and essential clinics operational. Schools closed indefinitely, and public gatherings were prohibited, creating an eerie sense of isolation in our community. For my family, this meant adhering to strict stay-at-home orders, with outings limited to essential errands like grocery shopping, where we encountered long lines, mandatory mask-wearing, and sanitizer stations at every entrance. Day-to-day changes were profound and multifaceted, reshaping our routines in ways that felt both temporary and enduring.
A typical day during lockdown started with waking up later than usual, as there was no rush to catch a school bus. Mornings involved logging into virtual classes via platforms like Google Classroom, where I struggled with spotty internet and the lack of face-to-face interaction with teachers and peers. Lunch breaks were spent at home with my siblings, often helping my mother prepare simple meals while my father worked remotely in another room. Afternoons blurred into family time, filled with board games or backyard activities, but we avoided parks due to closure notices. Evenings brought a mix of online homework and limited screen time for entertainment, as streaming services became our window to the outside world. Grocery runs, once mundane, turned into strategic operations: we shopped once a week, wearing masks and gloves, and disinfected everything upon return. Socially, birthdays and holidays were celebrated virtually via Zoom calls with extended family, which felt impersonal compared to our usual gatherings. Physical exercise shifted indoors, with online workout videos replacing sports teams, and mental health check-ins became routine as cabin fever set in. These adaptations, while necessary, highlighted the resilience required during crises, echoing anthropological discussions on how societies reorganize daily life in response to epidemics (Briggs and Mantini-Briggs, 2003). The lockdown’s duration, easing gradually by mid-2021 with reopenings, left a lasting imprint on my sense of normalcy, reminding me how quickly societal structures can shift.
Connecting My Experience to Anthropological Themes: Pandemics, Transmission, and Stigma
One key course theme in anthropology that resonates deeply with my COVID-19 experience is the intersection of pandemics with transmission dynamics and associated stigma. In our studies, we examined how pandemics are not merely biological events but social phenomena shaped by cultural narratives, blame, and misinformation (Farmer, 2006). Specifically, the theme of transmission relates to stigma through rumors about COVID-19’s origins, such as the unfounded claim that it stemmed from people in China eating bats. This narrative, propagated early in the pandemic, fueled xenophobia and discrimination against Asian communities, including Chinese Canadians, despite scientific evidence debunking it.
In reality, COVID-19 is a respiratory illness caused by the SARS-CoV-2 virus, transmitted primarily through airborne droplets from coughs, sneezes, or even talking in close proximity (World Health Organization, 2020). Transmission occurs when infected individuals expel viral particles that others inhale, particularly in poorly ventilated spaces, rather than through exotic food practices. This understanding, supported by epidemiological research, underscores that the virus likely originated from zoonotic spillover in a wildlife market, but not directly from bat consumption as sensationalized (Pekar et al., 2022). The stigma attached to Chinese people was not only inaccurate but harmful, leading to increased hate crimes and social ostracism. For instance, in my community, I witnessed subtle shifts: friends avoided Chinese-owned businesses, echoing historical patterns of blame during pandemics, like the scapegoating of Jewish communities during the Black Death (Cohn, 2007).
Personally, this theme manifested when rumors circulated in my online school groups, with some classmates joking about “bat soup” origins, perpetuating stereotypes. As someone of mixed heritage, I felt compelled to challenge these views, drawing on what I’d later learn in anthropology about how stigma exacerbates health inequities. This experience highlighted how misinformation about transmission can divert attention from evidence-based prevention, such as masking and ventilation, and instead foster division. Anthropologically, it illustrates the “syndemic” nature of pandemics, where biological threats intersect with social vulnerabilities like racism (Singer, 2009). By connecting my story to this theme, I emphasize the need for cultural sensitivity in pandemic responses to mitigate stigma’s long-term effects.
My Family’s Response to the COVID-19 Vaccine
My family’s response to the COVID-19 vaccine was one of skepticism and ultimately refusal, rooted in deeply held beliefs about its rapid development and reliability. As anti-vaxxers, my parents viewed the vaccines, which were rolled out in late 2020, as untrustworthy due to the unprecedented speed of their creation—typically, vaccines take years, yet these emerged within months. They argued that a pandemic appearing so suddenly couldn’t have a “cure” developed so quickly, especially since the vaccines were designed to ease symptoms and prevent severe illness rather than eradicate the virus entirely. This perspective made sense to them in the context of historical vaccine hesitancy, influenced by past controversies like the thalidomide scandal, which eroded public trust in rushed medical interventions (Offit, 2007).
Interestingly, despite close contact with infected individuals—such as a family friend who visited before symptoms appeared—none of us contracted COVID-19 or showed symptoms. This reinforced my family’s belief that the vaccine wasn’t necessary for everyone, and that many questions remained unanswered, such as long-term side effects or efficacy against variants. From an anthropological viewpoint, this hesitancy reflects broader cultural narratives around biomedicine and autonomy, where communities prioritize experiential knowledge over institutional directives (Sobo, 2016). While I respect their views, studying anthropology has prompted me to consider evidence from sources like the World Health Organization, which affirm the vaccines’ safety through rigorous trials (World Health Organization, 2021). Nonetheless, our choice not to vaccinate stemmed from a cautious approach, highlighting the diverse ways people navigate uncertainty in pandemics.
Conclusion
In reflecting on my COVID-19 experiences, from lockdown life in Ontario at age 13 to grappling with stigma and vaccine decisions, I recognize how personal stories enrich anthropological understandings of pandemics. These narratives reveal the human dimensions of resilience, inequality, and cultural interpretation, much like the journals that inform studies of historical plagues. By connecting my story to themes of transmission and stigma, I underscore the importance of combating misinformation to foster inclusive responses. Looking ahead, future scholars should appreciate the pandemic’s role in amplifying societal divides while sparking innovation in technology and community support. Ultimately, this reflection contributes to the collective historical record, reminding us that pandemics are as much about people as pathogens. As an anthropology student, I am grateful for the opportunity to document this chapter, hoping it aids in building more equitable futures.
(Word count: 1,248 including references)
References
- Briggs, C.L. and Mantini-Briggs, C. (2003) Stories in the Time of Cholera: Racial Profiling during a Medical Nightmare. University of California Press.
- Cohn, S.K. (2007) ‘The Black Death and the Burning of Jews’, Past & Present, 196(1), pp. 3-36.
- Farmer, P. (2006) AIDS and Accusation: Haiti and the Geography of Blame. University of California Press.
- Offit, P.A. (2007) The Cutter Incident: How America’s First Polio Vaccine Led to the Growing Vaccine Crisis. Yale University Press.
- Pekar, J.E. et al. (2022) ‘The molecular epidemiology of multiple zoonotic origins of SARS-CoV-2’, Science, 377(6609), pp. 960-966.
- Public Health Agency of Canada (2020) Coronavirus disease (COVID-19): Outbreak update. Government of Canada.
- Singer, M. (2009) Introduction to Syndemics: A Critical Systems Approach to Public and Community Health. Jossey-Bass.
- Singer, M. and Clair, S. (2003) ‘Syndemics and public health: Reconceptualizing disease in bio-social context’, Medical Anthropology Quarterly, 17(4), pp. 423-441.
- Sobo, E.J. (2016) ‘Theorizing (vaccine) refusal: Through trust and confidence, towards care’, Medical Anthropology, 35(6), pp. 499-512.
- World Health Organization (2020) Coronavirus disease (COVID-19): How is it transmitted?. WHO.
- World Health Organization (2021) COVID-19 vaccine safety: Overview. WHO.
