I have been pretty vigilant about trying to protect myself and others from the spread of coronavirus since mid-March. That’s when The Sun ordered employees to start working from home — and the first time I really grasped the true threat of the virus.
I wore a mask in public — and got plenty of strange looks because of it — way before the Centers for Disease Control recommended it. I wash down my groceries, packages and mail. Yeah, I know some say there is no need for that, but it makes me feel better. And it can’t hurt, right? I’ve also drastically limited my time outside of the house, turning down requests to visit friends even at their homes. After all, I don’t know who they’ve been around.
But even with this over aggressiveness, I wondered if even that was enough after the state last week began releasing coronavirus cases by ZIP code and I came to the kick-in-the-gut realization that I live in the number one hot spot in the state. The epicenter of coronavirus activity in Maryland is in ZIP code 21215.
Data released that first day showed 137 cases, more than anywhere else in Maryland. As of Friday at 1 p.m., there were 238 cases.
I already have enough factors that increase my odds of getting coronavirus. I am African American. And as we all now know, after the state was pushed to start tracking cases by race, people who look like me are way more likely to end up with the virus than any other race. A survey released last week by Pew Research Center found that 27% of black people personally knew someone who was hospitalized with or died from COVID-19, compared to just 1 in 10 white and Hispanic people. I personally know three people, all black, who have suffered from it, including one who died.
I also have a preexisting condition, which could possibly make it harder to fight off the disease. And now I can add where I live to the risk factors. It’s enough to keep me awake some nights.
As I drove around the ZIP code one day recently, I saw many desolate streets and people wearing masks, all signs people are heeding the warnings coming from public health officials to social distance and stay at home. But I also saw too many people gathering outside of corner stores and liquor retailers. Two squeegee boys approached my car sans masks or any other protective gear. At least one person rolled their window down to give them money, leaving the possibility open for disease transmission. The setup at the public transportation hub at Mondawmin Mall makes it logistically difficult for people to keep away from each other even if they wanted to. Many people have no choice but to use the bus and subway system to get to jobs.
Now that the state is tracking demographic data, I hope they use it to better target these areas for education campaigns and testing. We also need a better understanding of why African Americans and certain neighborhoods are getting hit hard. Some of it is behavioral for sure, but what other biological factors are playing a role. Plenty of people of other races are also ignoring social distancing rules.
The area has gotten extra resources to combat the outbreak, including the first drive-through testing site in the city. As part of surge planning, the state slated 271 surge beds and 63 intensive care beds at Sinai Hospital. Only Johns Hopkins Hospital has numbers that significantly exceed that level in the city, according to the governor’s office.
As for me, I have calmed down since first learning I am living in somewhat of a coronavirus danger zone. Don’t get me wrong, my mind sometimes still races at night and keeps me awake. I have gotten a lot of reading done during this pandemic. But I also can’t live my life in a state of paranoia either. I remind myself that there are far more people recovering from coronavirus than dying from it. Far more people have tested negative for the virus than positive. Those odds are good for everyone. Many of the cases in 21215 are also concentrated at the FutureCare Lochearn nursing home.
So, I will continue to be vigilant about washing my hands, wearing a mask and keeping my distance from people. My ZIP code is a risk factor, but not necessarily a death sentence.
Andrea K. McDaniels is The Sun’s deputy editorial page editor.