Death is constantly on my mind. For more reasons than one. I study public health, specifically the impact of racism on health. The ultimate impact, of course, is premature death.
Death is especially on my mind right here and right now because of this pandemic. COVID-19 has disrupted our “normal” because of how effectively it is transmitted from person to person. Those of us who are sheltered are isolated in our homes to lessen the transmission. We feel this pandemic more than others because we actually have to do something about it. Some people are focused on the economy. Some are focused on developing a vaccine. Some are interested capitalizing on this moment as a natural experiment. Others are focused on death. I am others.
History-minded people have pointed out that Black people will bear the brunt of the deaths from COVID-19. Before we knew the numbers, we knew the numbers. Now that we see the numbers, we’re devastated. We hoped something would be different; but we know the consequences of living in this society. Families are being devastated. People are dying alone in their homes. Daughters, sons, siblings, grandchildren can’t be with their loved ones as they die in the hospital after fighting this thing. There are mass temporary graves in New York to hold all the bodies until people can have proper burials. No one knows when that will be. This is a lot. What do we do with death?
I know there are going to be a lot of articles, books, documentaries about the deaths caused by this virus. Diligent people are working up interesting and important research study designs as I write these words. The NIH recently released survey items regarding COVID-19 for researchers to have some continuity in their measures as this work emerges. This is important. It must happen. We have to document the death. We have to document the recovery. We have to document the policy responses. We have to document everything so that we are better prepared the next time something like this comes around. Because there will be next time.
This is a painful reminder that as much as I study it, I still don’t know what to do with death. How to handle it. What to say. Especially when it’s unexpected, premature, unfair.
This morning. I was just reading the work of the late scholar, Clyde Woods. He wrote profoundly about life and death. He argued social scientists have more to contribute to society than documenting death especially the premature death of marginalized communities. “Are we just coroners?” he asked. I don’t have an answer. I think we can be more. We have to be.