I am sitting on my bed right now (my son is sleeping and my husband is writing a song with his headphones on) and in this moment of true isolation, (because parents and partners are never truly isolated) one word runs through my head: access. Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion and the Coronavirus seem to be existing on two different planets right now. Planets that are in different galaxies. Report after report shows that people with different life experiences are also having different experiences with this pandemic. One of my old students texted me to ask me how my family and I are doing. I let her know we were doing well. I explained that we were making sure to get fresh air by going out on our building’s roof deck and we were able to get our groceries delivered this week. When I asked her how her and her family were doing she said, “We are doing amazing. We are currently in a shelter, but we just received our housing voucher and my mom is looking for an apartment for us. I am just happy that my mother, siblings, and I are together” (her mother had been in prison for approximately 3 years of her teenage life and her and her siblings were split up during that time). After our text exchange I reflected on my years of teaching her. Through every obstacle she has always maintained a strong sense of gratitude. Would it have been weird if I called her up to give her a round of applause? I mean, she is also essential. She carries the future in her hands and yet her lack of access to basic human rights during this pandemic (she has no place to call her home that would provide her with a sense of stability and a place where she could stay 6ft away from strangers), reminds me just how much our country lacks true perspective. How could we not ensure that all children have access to basic human rights? I mean, without the children we have no legacy; we have no future. So many of us live life behind a veil. This veil allows us to turn a blind eye to the inequity happening around us even among the most innocent of us all, children. 

This message is not meant to make anyone feel bad for the apartment they are sitting in right now. We have all worked super hard for everything we have. Rather, this post is meant to shine light on all those that have worked hard and maintained an aura of niceness and yet are still plagued with deadlier viruses than Corona: racism, sexism, classism, transphobia, ableism, and homophobia. We haven’t figured out how to cure those viruses in America either. These viruses can’t be seen with the naked eye or a super strong microscope and yet people die every day from them. Let’s not forget that our marginalized neighbors: the Native American, the disabled, the homeless, the immigrant, haven’t been able to escape these viruses with a N95 mask. Now, Corona has swept through and exploited these preexisting conditions. Against all odds, our marginalized and disenfranchised neighbors have maintained their gratitude for life, love, and friendship. I don’t know who builds rockets, but I think they should be called into work, even if it’s for a few weeks. A rocket needs to be built to retrieve Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion and bring it home. Our neighbors that have dealt with the –ism viruses, our societal preexisting conditions, are now suffering from the Coronavirus and could really benefit from DEI breaking the social distancing rule. 

Although we aren’t all astronauts or engineers, we can still contribute to the rocket building. In fact, at my school we have already started bridging the distance between the two planets. A food pantry housed at my school provides fuel and sustenance to hundreds of families around New York City. Educators around the country work long hours to break content down to students, coach parents on how to support their students, and provide a listening ear to students who are stressed and overwhelmed. Nurses and doctors risk their physical and emotional safety to tend to the sick. Grocery workers scan items in checkout lines with a smile on their face, hope in their hearts, and fear on their minds. Our work might be the bridge. Our work will live on for generations. It lives in every interaction we have with each other. Actually we might be astronauts. Although the work we all do each day might feel like a few small steps for humanity, I am here to tell you that our work is really a giant leap for humankind.