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I’m feeling a deep sense of unease. Earlier today, I visited a gas station in my county, not my town, and wore my mask. Out of seven people inside, only one older man joined me in wearing a mask. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken judgments; no one made eye contact or exchanged smiles. It felt heavy and uncomfortable.
As I was leaving, a young boy, around 10 years old, mocked me with a “Baa Baa” as I walked by. Unsure if I had heard correctly, I stopped and asked him to clarify. He repeated it. I took a moment to explain why his remark was inappropriate, sharing that I am vaccinated but also have a child at home with significant health issues. I told him, “You never know someone’s story, and there’s no reason to belittle others for their choices.”
The boy rolled his eyes and walked into the store as his mother approached. I gestured for her to intervene, but she pretended to search for something in her car. I couldn’t help but feel my frustration radiate, even from a distance.
If a child feels empowered to ridicule me, what does that say about the attitudes he may express towards his peers? Throughout the day, I received messages from friends who are parents of children with special needs, sharing stories of their kids being bullied for wearing masks. One friend’s daughter had her mask ripped off, trampled, and tossed in the trash. Her sister is undergoing chemotherapy and now has to navigate the painful reality that her illness is perceived as a burden to others.
With just a couple of weeks left in the school year, many children remain unvaccinated. My daughter was set to return to in-person school this week, but after new announcements from the Iowa Department of Public Health, our district eliminated the mask mandate. She came to me in tears, expressing her fear of bringing the virus home and endangering her brother, who already faces immense health challenges.
Is that fear extreme? Perhaps. But it’s rooted in her experience of witnessing medical emergencies involving her sibling. Throughout the year, she has struggled with virtual learning, feeling invisible and disconnected. Despite her talents, she is now receiving average grades due to a lack of support. We are even paying for tutoring to prevent her from falling behind, all while she grapples with the weight of possibly making her brother sick.
As we prepared for her return to school, the sudden changes left her feeling torn between her education and her brother’s safety. It’s heartbreaking that she has to carry such burdens at just twelve years old. “It’s just a mask,” she said, “it’s not like they’re hard to wear!”
My son, who is medically fragile, repeated preschool this year to focus on social skills. He had only just begun to enjoy school before the mask requirements were lifted. With a trip to Philadelphia for crucial procedures on the horizon, he cannot risk getting sick and will miss out on valuable social interactions.
While the CDC still recommends masks in schools, recent legislative actions in Iowa have undermined these guidelines. This shift was not about freedom; it was a political maneuver that disregarded the well-being of vulnerable children. Those advocating for mental health support should have directed attention to bills focused on providing necessary resources for children rather than dismantling safety measures.
People say, “Just stay home if you’re vulnerable,” but that’s not a feasible option for many families, especially as support systems have been eroded. Who are our lawmakers truly protecting with these recent bills? It seems more aligned with appeasing extreme perspectives than ensuring the safety and well-being of Iowa’s most vulnerable citizens.
I don’t often discuss politics, but I must advocate for my family. The upcoming election in November can’t come soon enough.