Maybe she’s born with it, maybe she’s in her Third Trimester but I have zero energy to spend on shaming people who aren’t wearing masks or screaming at them inside of my head to change their behavior. Maybe that’s defeatist and terrible, but to me — at least in California — mask wearing or not doesn’t seem to be the bulk of the problem. Yes, there are some maskholes out there spreading, but the bulk of the spread (again, California) seems to be in immigrant farm labor communities, factories with poor working conditions, intergenerational families that share small living spaces, essential workers who can’t distance from their families, prisons and nursing homes. A mask or lack of mask is just the thing we can see, the thing that’s easiest to get mad at, when the problems are deeper and more insidious. The problem is inequity. And it’s not cool, cute or right to shout at people for being poor. I feel like we who have the luxury to distance and work from home and give Grubhub and HBO Max all of our expendable income are sometimes just SCREAMING AT PEOPLE WHO CAN’T HELP THEIR CIRCUMSTANCES. So it doesn’t feel right to me, to scream. Instead I’ll just leave this small thought here, and continue growing these here Lungs, which will someday Scream, first about Milk and Sleep, then someday, about World.

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