i hate what covid did

there’s an error in the title. let me fix it by starting from the beginning.

one of my favorite ways to experience a city is to walk its streets at 3am. when there are no cars, barely any people, you can walk right in the middle of the street. even sit there.

i’ve done this in philly, dc, san francisco and there’s always a weird freedom but eeriness to it. you could do a cartwheel in an intersection. play american football with friends in the streets. or sing your favorite song very loudly.

but you could also theoretically be attacked with no witnesses. or have to walk 40 philly blocks to get home because all lyft drivers are asleep as they should be. or suffer a heart attack and have no one around.

during covid there was often no one physically around us, which often made us free to attend zoom calls in our underpants but also separated us so that no one could hear our private cries of despair.

the proliferation of isolation might be the worst thing the pandemic did to america.

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when many people asked me about how america was different from my lived experiences in Nigeria and South Africa, i could never quite find the right words for them. “individualistic? self-centered? ambitious? selfish?”

i always resorted to trying to explain the camaraderie i experienced with my advisory family on campus in Johannesburg and the nurture of my church social network for me and my siblings growing up. “we just look out for each another. we don’t leave others behind. WE.”

i’m sure you’ve seen the tik toks or shorts. “would you leave your partner behind if you got a first class upgrade? what if it was your sibling?” it’s not that there are wrong answers to these questions but answers reflect an orientation. a culture. a way of life.

but back to covid, what it did was no less than further hyperindividualism and that was not what America needed. not what the world needed. if you ask me.

do you remember that time? like literally five years ago! you were exactly like you are right now. default in a room. alone. staring at a screen.

in fact, in march, i was worried for my loved ones. my friends. my family. my life. we all were. even now, there are details that are difficult to share. covid changed our habits, our cultures, our world.

when i say i hate what covid did to love, i do not just mean physical separation. i mean that covid decapitated the love languages we rely on to connect with others. and i also do not just mean the five love languages.

yes, words of affirmation, acts of service, quality time, physical touch, and gifts all count as languages. and yes, during covid it was harder to remember to text friends. it was no longer possible to offer to pick up the check. or to compliment a coworker on a fabulous pair of boots. or to spend quality time through screens or time zones.

but there are even more love languages, like the languages of community. the language of getting a headcount when leaving the museum to make sure you didn’t leave anyone behind. the language of accompanying a friend to the store even if you have nothing to buy and even if it’s generally a safe area — but maybe you’ll share a laugh or two or discuss a heavy topic on their mind.

covid pulled us apart in different ways. whether it was 6ft apart or quarantining in your home. that physical separation translated into ideological separations too. We had to work harder to empathize with the viewpoints of the person on the other side of the screen at a time when we were not interacting with nearly as diverse a group of people. at a time when we were filled either with frustration at the anti vaxers or with Fauci for inconsistencies. at a time where every stranger is a potentially lethal threat.

that our physical distance would translate into ideological separation is especially crucial, at least for me, to remember a lesson lost to covid:

the friction of dealing with others is a small price for the joy of true connection with community.

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i recall the most fun i had at boys scout camp with my friends while learning, playing, eating also came with noisy nights, a super itchy beret, and food not to my taste but thoroughly worth it. i recall building a business with ‘excellence squad’ that runs without us now, but strained my relationships, and health at the time, yet…thoroughly worth it.

take the special experience of an advisory family consisting six students and two faculty at my boarding school as an example. the best parts of that experience were walking out of class at 11:45 exactly, because there’s usually some special lunch made on thursdays (i remember a delicious burger); strolling with one of your ‘siblings’ who is from another region of the continent continuing your class debate about African leaders; finding your family in the vast lush green square in the middle of the campus as you dance to afrobeats and get a dry spot to sit; sharing teary eyed laughs with your “parents” who are staff/faculty but are really maybe 7 years older than you. we even joined other families to form a house that competes in (inter-house) sports and other tournaments.

these were the kinds of experiences i describe as missing after covid. even though my advisory family was a unique experience i shouldn’t casually expect to share with my college mates, I cannot help but be pained that even the students at my boarding school could not enjoy those experiences during covid.

instead of teaching the joy of community, covid taught many of us to find individual hobbies. to learn self-sustenance. to take responsibility for our own happiness and mental health. it was easy to feel alone, difficult to ask for help.

the truth is that many community practices will never return. not in the same way at least. advisory family lunches rely on shared expectations of being in person, habits that people have formed, and even expectations outlined in student handbooks or staff job descriptions. these patterns are all broken now.

some lost practices are invisible. just like the advisory family experience, you don’t know what you’re missing. i love sports but i never saw Penn relays which was supposed to be one of the biggest sporting events on campus. i really wanted to meet builders at hackathons builders but i wasn’t about to risk catching covid at the airport.

i couldn’t tell you more because i can’t tell you about the serendipitous connection you could have made randomly in office hours. or the unforgettable memories walking back from the library at 2am with your teammates. or the unplanned event where you could have met an inspiring lifelong mentor.

covid was definitely not positive. in fact i hate what it did. but it did teach us things.

yes, covid physically separated us. covid separated us ideologically. and yes, it’s also at fault for decapitating our languages of community. but covid also challenged us to connect with others in new ways.

we had to forget old habits. “I prefer face to face” wasn’t a tolerable preference. everyone took lessons in texting, facetiming, reaching out to friends you haven’t seen in a while, emotional regulation to understand that friends who hadn’t reached out were probably going through their own stuff, and so on.

we adopted new ways of showing love to those we care about. Linkedin added the support reaction just months into the pandemic. Zoom stocks skyrocketed. Microsoft Teams 5x its user base in the first year. Adam Grant wrote about ‘Languishing’. we kept snapchat streaks. we played among us, codenames, geo guesser, colonist.io and so on.

wow. it’s been 5 years now. I look back at that time and all i’ve written here. i wonder, “is there something to take away? a lesson from the tragedy? a promise for a better future from the unexpected change?”

it’s that last question that persists. when covid as an experience was emerging, i felt sure that my life was about to be permanently upended and possibly end. since vaccines and the passing of time, i have more hope.

but am i back to the level of confidence i had in my life outcome before covid? is the future still as bright? am i reacting to a different unexpected change that is AI? am i more connected to those i love? am i leveraging the new ways to connect with others in person? getting out of my shell? taking agency?

that’s the correction to the title. i hate what covid did… but i’m not gonna let that stop me.

that is the takeaway for you reader. reflect. what heavy burdens/perspectives from covid are you still carrying on your back that no longer serve you? can you drop them? how can you raise your chin higher and make moves with those you love?

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one way i am reconnecting with the joy of community is starting a space to share ideas with folks interested in innovative applications of technology in learning. recently i’ve been diving into learning/AI papers and the education industry which will unavoidably undergo significant transformation in the next decade.

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