Bearing Witness Even in Death
Acclaimed novelist Jesmyn Ward surprised the nation with a beautifully sad essay in the September issue of Vanity Fair. She wrote that her husband died in midwinter from a respiratory illness before Covid-19 was officially named in the States. He was 33. Their entire family caught the virus. As Ward worked through her grief, she witnessed Covid-19 and the uprising.
I cried in wonder each time I saw protest around the world because I recognized the people. I recognized the way they zip their hoodies, the way they raised their fists, the way they walked, the way they shouted. I recognized their action for what it was: witness. Even now, each day, they witness.
Ward’s clarity and ability to write despite her personal tragedy is awe-inspiring. She wrote of the connection between skin color and Covid-19 and racism in a manner that is undeniable.
Witness Black people, Indigenous people, so many poor brown people, lying on beds in frigid hospitals, gasping our last breaths with COVID-riddled lungs, rendered flat by undiagnosed underlying conditions, triggered by years of food deserts, stress, and poverty, lives spent snatching sweets so we could eat one delicious morsel, savor some sugar on the tongue, oh Lord, because the flavor of our lives is so often bitter.
Here’s hoping a long period of hope quickly follows our period of despair.
