Opinion

Photo by Pixabay

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

I have two friends whose sons are contemplating important choices. The first son, Matt, is trying to decide where to attend college.

He has gained admission to two elite schools. He can’t go wrong, as his parents have told him repeatedly, with either choice. Making this decision in a normal year would be hard. In a pandemic year, it’s almost impossible.

Matt can’t stay over at each school for a weekend or even attend a few classes. He can’t get much of a feeling for the “vibe” of the school because he can’t go into most of the buildings, even with a mask and with his letter of admission.

He can compare the national rankings from U.S. News and World Report, check college guides, talk with his guidance counselor, chat with graduates from his high school who attend each school and stroll around each campus. 

He can’t, however, fully try on the school, the way he might a tailored suit. Masks cover the faces of most of the people at each school, which makes it impossible to search for smiles on the faces of his potential future classmates.

He recently found himself leaning toward school A. The same day, his father spoke with a friend of his whose daughter was attending school B.

His father showed a picture of his friend’s daughter to Matt. The friend’s attractive daughter caused Matt to rethink his tentative decision.

That brings me to my other friend’s son, Eric. In his mid-20s, Eric has been caught in the same social world that has limited the options for everyone else.

Eric has been dating a woman for over two years and is considering the future of the relationship. He is not sure whether it’s the appropriate time to consider living together or getting married.

Eric is incredibly attached to his girlfriend, who has been one of the few people he sees regularly in real life during the pandemic.

Eric is not sure how long this altered reality, in which he works from home, speaks with family and friends virtually most of the time, and sees his girlfriend during his limited social hours, will last. In the meantime, he’d like something in his life to move forward.

Matt and Eric are weighing their options. For Matt, the choice of college may well come down to the last picture of another student he sees before he pushes a button.

Choosing a college can, and likely should, involve more significant factors. Then again, both of the colleges line up so well that he is likely to have a similar experience, albeit with different people around him, at each school.

Eric’s decision, however, isn’t so interchangeable. It involves a leap of faith that those of us who are married have made that relies on our own criteria. We can consult family, friends, and counselors as we weigh the pros and cons, but, ultimately, the responsibility and opportunity rest with us.

Coming up with his own questions and his own scale to evaluate the relationship is challenging, particularly when everything seems somewhere between good and great right now. He can’t possibly know what life will look like in two, five, 10 or 20 years from now.

I don’t envy either Matt or Eric as they contemplate these decisions. I do, however, agree with Matt’s parents: he can’t go wrong. For Eric, the decision has more significant longer-term ramifications and likely reflects variables that are difficult to imagine, particularly amid the uncertainty of the present.

METRO photo
Leah Dunaief

By Leah S. Dunaief

Would you like to be different? Would you like to change your personality? Perhaps you would like to be more extroverted. Or more open to new experiences. Or even just more organized. Well, thanks to the pandemic, here is your chance. 

People can and do successfully change their personalities even as adults. Now we are about to emerge from the isolation of lockdown and quarantine and rejoin the larger world. The stage is set for a new you. But this transformation will take work. To start, one could embrace the “As If Principle,” proposed by Richard Wiseman, a psychology professor at the University of Hertfordshire in England. This would require one to behave as if one were already that different person, and after a time, the new behavior and the person would sync. Famously, that is the story the debonair Cary Grant told of his early life, which started on the Bristol docks as Archie Leach and wound up at the pinnacle in Hollywood. “I pretended to be somebody I wanted to be until finally I became that person. Or he became me,” Grant said, according to the British newspaper, The Guardian.

An article in the April 11 issue of The New York Times took up this subject. Headlined, “You Can Be a New You After the Pandemic,” written by Olga Khazan, the story states the following. “Researchers have found that adults can change the five traits that make up personality — extroversion, openness to experience, emotional stability, agreeableness and conscientiousness — within just a few months.” 

Another psychology professor, this one at Columbia University, asserts a similar theme. Geraldine Downey, who studies social rejection, has found that “socially excluded people who want to become part of a group are better off if they assume that other people will like them. They should behave as if they are the popular kid. Getting into social interactions expecting the worst, as many socially anxious people do, tends to be a self-fulfilling prophecy.” In another example of change, “people were able to become more extroverted or conscientious in four months just by listing the ways they’d like to change and what steps they would take to get there,” according to the NYT article. If one wants to be more outgoing, one can make a list of upcoming events in which to interact or persons to call for lunches, and after enough such efforts, the act becomes natural.

It can help in this transformation to see a therapist, research recommends. One such example described a person with neuroticism, “a trait responsible for anxiety and rumination.” After a short burst of therapy, in which the “warm, comforting presence” of a therapist encouraged the idea that the client is a valued person, neuroticism receded, and the studies showed the effect lasted for at least a year.

But not everyone can afford a therapist. Mirjam Stieger, a postdoctoral researcher at Brandeis University, and her colleagues developed an app that “reminded people to perform small tasks to help tweak their personalities, like “talk to a stranger when you go grocery shopping,” to prompt extroversion. The app then asks them if they had done that. According to the study, after three months, the change had stuck.

Agreeableness, by the way, involves “greater empathy and concern for others.” And so, being agreeable after this pandemic could mean being gentler toward one another. We now know, for example, how much essential workers sacrificed during the pandemic, many even their lives. That would suggest greater kindness and patience toward someone who, during the pre-pandemic, might just have been dismissed as annoying. We don’t know what exactly has been that person’s recent experience. At least that can be a conscious thought to modify behavior in what otherwise might have been a contentious situation.

For those who wish to change or live differently, as the NYT article says, “your personality is more like a sand dune than a stone.”

Volunteers clean up the Greenway Trail in Port Jefferson on April 17. Photo by Herb Mones

Volunteerism — to some degree — still exists. When it comes to Earth Day and protecting our environment, this is a wonderful thing.

Two weeks ago, on our editorial page, we mentioned the increase in roadside litter along our towns’ roads and the importance of keeping garbage off the streets. In that editorial, we made a small mention of the groups that volunteer to clean up in our areas, but they deserve more than a sentence or two.

With Earth Day celebrated April 22, residents may have seen people out this past weekend with bags, gloves and trash pickers along roads, in parks and on beaches collecting the garbage of others. 

On Saturday, the Lake Ronkonkoma Improvement Group hosted a cleanup in conjunction with Suffolk County at Larry’s Landing, and Three Village Community Trust members along with the Friends of the Greenway could be found along the Setauket-Port Jefferson Station Greenway Trail.

Hometown Hope, a Port Jefferson nonprofit, gathered volunteers Sunday to clean up the beaches in the village. Dozens of people helped pick up trash along the four-and-a-half-mile shoreline. These are just a few of the cleanups that occur on our roads, trails and beaches throughout the year.

These volunteers deserve a standing ovation for helping to improve our environment and restoring a sense of pride to our communities. 

We would love to see cleanups like this happen more often throughout the year. While it’s the responsibility of individuals to treat the outdoors as they would their own living room or car, unfortunately many don’t follow this common-sense rule. 

Groups like the ones mentioned above have the ability to organize people and get things done and pick up where towns leave off — even though we would like to see highway departments out cleaning more, too.

Sadly, many organizations are in desperate need of volunteers. As more residents commute to the city or work two jobs, many civic associations, advocacy groups, nonprofits and even fire departments have seen a decrease in the number of people volunteering.

Yet so many groups just ask for a bit of time to help make our neighborhoods better places to live. One individual giving up an hour here and there to help others causes a ripple effect. It could influence many to do the same and create a wave of community engagement.

That wave is evident in these cleanups as not only a spot of land becomes cleaner but, in the long run, it helps our foliage and wildlife thrive and keeps our waterways clean.

So, thank you to all of you who took the time out of your busy weekends to make our little space on Earth a bit cleaner.

Pixabay photo

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

About 16 years ago, I stood on the warning track and held my then one-year old son high in my arms above the blue, outfield fence in right center field of the old Yankee Stadium. We asked him to extend his glove as if he had leapt in the air to catch a home run.

Now, as he prepares to graduate from high school, my wife and I are pondering the end of an era filled with the numerous triumphs and challenges of youth sports.

In the last few weeks, while we have awaited the time outs, batting glove adjustments, pauses to look for signs from the catcher, and warm up tosses by each pitcher, we have been replaying our own montage from his years on a baseball field.

A few years after his Yankee Stadium debut, our son donned a baggy uniform that hung from his slight four-year old frame, standing with his left arm out, hoping to catch a ball I tossed with a slight arc toward him.

As the years advanced, his skill set and intensity for the game grew more rapidly than the developmental rules of the sport.

Station-to-station baseball was an abomination for him. When he was six, he caught a ball at shortstop, tagged the runner jogging from second and stepped on third for, what he considered, an unassisted triple play. He tossed the ball to the mound and jogged off the field, only to hear that everyone hadn’t batted so he had to stay on the field. I can still see the disappointed look on his face as all the runners moved to the next base.

Every moment wasn’t athletic heaven. He struggled to find the strike zone when he was pitching, swung and missed at pitches he knew he could hit and suffered through the inconsistent coaching and advice of everyone from his father to the parents of his teammates to semi-professionals eager to give back to the community.

Despite playing a game of failure, he continued to venture to fields close and far for another opportunity to compete, get some exercise and join teammates who have become long-time friends.

He learned how to pick up his friends after their moment in the spotlight didn’t end the way they wanted.

He took us to places way off a tour guide’s map of the eastern United States, as we drove from single traffic-light towns, with their one gas station and one diner, all the way up to Cooperstown.

We paced along frigid sidelines, hoping darkness or snow would grant us a reprieve from frozen bleachers and numb toes. We drove on roads in which the car thermometer read 113 degrees.

When he was old enough, he stood on a 90-foot diamond, looking from third to first as if he needed binoculars to see his teammate and a strong wind to help his throw reach the target.

As he got taller and stronger, the distance became more manageable. 

As parents, we made our share of errors on the sidelines and in the stands. While we told him it was the effort that mattered, not the result, he could see the joy in our faces after a win and the slumped shoulders after a tough loss.

While he’ll undoubtedly play other games down the road, that road won’t be as close as the ones we’ve traveled together. 

In a recent game, our son raced back and caught a ball against the wall, in a place on the field similar to the one where he extended his tiny glove at Yankee Stadium. We have shared such a long and inspired journey between those two mirrored moments.

METRO photo

By Leah Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Why, if there are 9,700,000 Americans looking for work now, some six percent of our population, are there so many signs outside businesses seeking helpers? Granted, many of those signs are in front of restaurants looking for waiters and shops needing salespeople, service industries in the main, but why the disconnect? And this is not just a regional problem but one in large cities like New York, villages like ours, as discussed at a recent local chamber of commerce meeting, and even rural communities. 

The situation could have some unwelcome consequences as the economy tries to recover. “It could act as a brake on growth and cause unnecessary business failures, long lines at remaining businesses and rising prices,” according to an article in last Saturday’s The New York Times, entitled “Businesses Challenged to Fill Jobs.”

The story, written by Neil Irwin, goes on to offer some possible answers. First is the suggestion that benefits are too generous. “The government is making it easy for people to stay home and get paid. You can’t really blame them much. But it means we have hours to fill and no one who wants to work.” That’s a quote from a pub owner in upstate Baldwinsville, New York, that appeared in the Syracuse Post-Standard and was reprinted in the NYT. 

Some people can make as much or more, thanks to the expanded weekly unemployment payments and the various stimulus cash that has been delivered by the government, at least for awhile. With the reawakening of restaurants and services now, there are more jobs than applicants, which doesn’t drive workers to seek work, compared to the opposite, when the pandemic first hit and jobs were disappearing. The recipients of the cash are doing what economists hoped they would do: spending it. That encourages businesses to reopen, but without enough help. Hence the problem. But it may cure itself when expanded benefits run out in September.

There are other reasons workers may not be inclined to rush back into the workforce. Some, especially those with public-facing jobs, may be afraid of getting sick themselves or perhaps bringing the virus home to vulnerable family members. There does seem to be a relationship between vaccinations of people and a rise in their employment rate, according to the NYT. Researchers have found that a “10-percentage-point increase in those fully vaccinated results in a 1.1 percentage-point increase in their employment.” It would make sense that vaccinated people are more comfortable serving the public.

Here is another possible explanation for the labor shortage. Some of the workers are still needed at home, especially women who might be caring for children, some taking classes remotely, or elderly members of their family. The Times goes on to quote a survey indicating that 6,300,000 million people “were not working because of a need to care for a child not in a school or day care center; and a further 2,100,000 were caring for an older person.” Many of those people, especially women, have disappeared from the rolls of the unemployed and are not even counted any longer. The answer here, as in everywhere else, is in conquering the virus and establishing herd immunity so schools and day care centers can open.

For those businesses that have thrived during the pandemic and have been able to raise the wages they pay workers, like Amazon or construction companies, there is less of a supply problem. But those businesses take away potential workers from industries like restaurants, with thin profit margins. And those workers may not return if they have found better berths for themselves elsewhere.

These issues will sort themselves out eventually, as public health improves and supply-and-demand comes to equilibrium. But one thing is certain. The return to any sort of “normal” will not happen without bumps in the road.

Every morning when we wake up, we’re reminded that we are still enduring this global pandemic.

Whether you think so or not, everyone’s lives have been impacted by it. Some people have lost loved ones to COVID-19, some have gotten so sick they suffer severe trauma and some haven’t seen their families in over a year. Beyond the physical, businesses have suffered financially, some even closing their doors for the last time. 

But luckily the vaccine has lifted the weight off a lot of shoulders — especially for the young people in our community.

Now that New York State has opened the vaccines to people ages 16 and over, more and more high schoolers and college students are looking to get the jab.

And we think that’s wonderful. They are trusting science and doing so to protect not only themselves, but their elderly or high-risk loved ones. 

We want things to go back to normal for everyone, but the high schoolers specifically.

Remember last year when the Class of 2020 missed out on their final high school sports, senior trips, proms and graduations?

Some of them have even been robbed of the college experience of living in a dorm, taking classes in a lecture hall and meeting new people. 

If we as a whole do not band together to combat this virus, then the classes of 2022, ’23, and ’24 may miss all those key lifetime moments, too.

The Class of 2021 has already lost their junior year — and most likely will not have the same “normal” experiences this spring as the rest of us had.

We know the unknown is terrifying, and people may not agree with getting a vaccine.

But is it worth not getting vaccinated? To constantly live in fear of the virus, or to not trust the medical professionals who saw death every day for more than 365 days?

We don’t think so.

We are grateful and commend these young people for getting their shots. 

The more people who do it, the more we’ll all be able to live as we did before.

Pixabay image

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Virtually everyone seems to agree that when the pandemic is finally over, life will not be the same as it was pre-COVID-19. Prominent among the changes will be some degree of working remotely. Before the virus descended, requests to work from home at least part of the week were typically refused by employers. Enter “Zoom” in lock-step with the pathogen.

Technically, Zoom was among us before the virus but only a small segment of the population used the platform. Once we were restrained to our homes, we laypeople discovered how easy and useful it was “to Zoom,” and the name became a verb, much like Xerox or Google. So certainly Zooming will remain with us for a long time to come. But what are its unintended consequences?

For one, there is the phrase that has now entered the English language: Zoom fatigue. We, who are on Zoom regularly and for long periods, understand this term. According to an article in National Geographic, published this past Tuesday and written by Theresa Machemer, new research offers data on this phenomenon to confirm our perceived discomfort.

Here are some interesting bits of information. On average, women report 13.8 percent more Zoom fatigue than men. Here is more: besides long days full of calls with few breaks that are the culprits, the self-view video, the crowd of faces on the screen, the expectation to stay in view of the camera, and the lack of nonverbal cues all tax the brain. I would add to that the lag between what is said and its transmission is tiring for the eyes and frustrating to the point of encouraging us to talk louder, which too is tiring.

OK, so we can agree that remote working has its perks: “no commutes, flexibility to handle household tasks, and easy access to conferences for all workers, including those with disabilities.” To an extent, we can now live where we want to live, and we can attend class even if the school shuts down due to an emergency or natural disaster. (No more snow days, sorry.) 

So here is what the scientists who specialize in the interactions between humans and technology developed, according to National Geographic. They created a tool to measure fatigue, called the Zoom Exhaustion and Fatigue Scale, or ZEF. They then used this in large surveys to measure that fatigue, in addition to how long each person spends on Zoom and demographics. Here are four factors that affect teleworkers.

The “lack of nonverbal cues is stressful because people cannot naturally convey or interpret gestures and body language when just their colleagues’ shoulders and heads are visible.” That presents a constant struggle to the viewer for proper communication.

Here is another, perhaps surprising response. “During video calls, people report feeling trapped in one spot so they can stay within view of the webcam.” As a result, they feel stressed, according to the researchers. Further, the default window, in which users see themselves constantly, can cause “mirror anxiety,” a self-consciousness that can result in distraction and has been linked to depression. 

Finally, there is something termed “hypergaze,” in which the viewer feels that the other person or people on the call are staring at them, their faces appearing so near and so intense as to cause discomfort for the brain.

The survey confirmed that women who spend more time in meetings, with shorter breaks between them than men, reported greater mirror anxiety and felt more trapped by their video calls.

How to cope: use a standing desk to feel less trapped; an orange filter on the screen may reduce eye strain; take at least ten minute breaks between video calls; ask conferencing companies to limit the maximum display size of heads on the screen; use some form of hybrid scheduling for home-office work.

I cannot let this subject go, however, without thanking the tech companies for making it possible for me to “see” my family members during this separation of more than a year. It has kept us connected and sane.

 

Pixabay photo

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

After a year filled with various kinds of losses in 2020, many residents are coping with emotional burdens, including a calendar filled with anniversaries of painful memories.

Called the anniversary effect, people who have been grieving losses are approaching and, in some cases have passed, the one year anniversary of the death of a family member, the last time they saw a family member in person, or the day they dropped a friend who couldn’t breathe off at a hospital.

“It’s good to acknowledge an anniversary is coming up,” said Mandi Zucker, a licensed social worker with a certificate in grief recovery and in thanatology, which is the study of death and dying. Those who feel comfortable offering their support might want to ask someone who is grieving what they are doing, if they have any plans and how they might spend the day.

Zucker, who is the founder of Inner-Harbor, a center that helps young adults who are grieving, cautioned that reaching out to someone only as an anniversary approaches might backfire.

If the anniversary is the only time someone reaches out, “that might feel disingenuous,” Zucker cautioned. People who are grieving might wonder “where you’ve been for the past year, if you are reaching out as if the other 364 days have not been difficult.”

People eager to provide support to the many residents who are dealing with the symptoms and after effects of grief should first make sure they are comfortable enough with their own lives to respond to their family and friends.

“Don’t ask if you’re not ready to hear it,” Zucker suggested. “If you’re going through something yourself and you’re in a hurry and don’t have the time, don’t ask.”

Support often takes the form of listening, rather than interrupting or talking. Zucker suggests people encourage those who are grieving to speak, without interrupting them, sharing their own anecdotes or judging them.

While it might not sound like long, two minutes is considerably longer than most people can offer their thoughts and feelings, as others typically interrupt well before then.

“There is nothing we can say that’ll fix” grief, Zucker said. “Our goal to be supportive is to let them say more. When you’re talking with them, think about why you are talking.”

Commenting on someone’s experience, by acknowledging that their description sounds sad, scary or painful, gives them an opening to continue to share.

When someone says, “It’s been rough with COVID,” almost everyone can offer their own experiences with the virus, the losses of freedom, and opportunity that they’ve felt, she said. Even though a supporter might want to share their experience to relate, the person who is grieving is likely better off having an opening to continue to share and experience their feelings, Zucker suggested.

Sometimes, just allowing the person to tell you to go away gives people control over a life that seems out of control.

“You can give them space, [but] you can also send an email or text saying that you are still thinking about them,” Zucker said. “You don’t have to imply that they must respond.”

Zucker is a fan of handwritten notes, which provide a material connection when someone doesn’t feel like talking, but can see a physical reminder of their connection to others.

If people notice that someone who is grieving isn’t getting dressed or showering, they can comment on it, letting them “know you see them.”

Zucker has a contrary view to the comment people often receive about being strong. For her, people show strength by being vulnerable, not by masking their feelings.

People who might be experiencing grief might also need to diversify their sources of support and strength. That could include meditating or going for walks.

 

File photo

Last week, a Shirley man was killed on the streets of Port Jefferson in broad daylight. 

He was gunned down at 3:35 p.m., outside the Dunkin’ Donuts that many of us frequent on our way to work.

It’s a tragedy. No one deserves to die.

But here’s where another problem lies: The impact of social media when it comes to an incident such as the one on that Wednesday. 

People began spreading rumors across Facebook, in private — and not so private — groups. They claimed there was an active shooter, a robbery gone wrong, a drive-by gunman attacking the innocent women and children enjoying the sunshine.

None of that was true. 

It was mind-boggling, seeing what people were posting online while an active investigation was going on. They blamed the local government, the Suffolk County Police Department, the school district, the media — one resident even posted that this event in our village was all the fault of President Joe Biden (D). 

Some residents began playing detective or journalist — they wanted to track down the guy who “soiled” our perfect little town. Some used it as a jumping pad for their own agendas.

Everyone made it about them. 

Even a comment such as, “That could have been me dead,” is false. This was a targeted attack between two men. 

We understand this was scary — we were frightened, too. But this was someone’s son, a brother, a friend. No matter what he got caught up in, someone lost their life the other day.

Stop meddling in what the police and local government are trained to do in these situations. 

On Facebook, people shared photos of David Bliss Jr. dying in the street. In one of the photos, you see him lying there, covered in blood while people hold up their phone cameras around him.

How would you feel? Your last visions of the world are of people leaning above you, filming your last breath. 

We are disappointed in the community. Instead of coming together, they are taking the event personally and spreading fear among others. 

Let the mayor do her job. Let the police do their job and let the media do their job. 

Things are kept private for a reason. Names and residencies are not released because an investigation is ongoing. Any leaked information can completely ruin a case. 

And that’s the worst part. People began believing false rumor-filled Facebook threads and posts. The rumors caused anxiety and instead of coming together, it pulled people even further apart. 

We found out the shooter was from Port Jefferson Station — not far from where he killed the 25-year-old man — and he was found within 72 hours thanks to the village cameras and hard work of law enforcement.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time something like this has happened on social media as we have seen it happen with other incidents across the Island, state, country and around the globe. And in those events, social media took over, too. 

Only newspapers and their digital media check all facts. Social media does not. 

It’s sad, it’s terrible, but it happened, and we need to grow from it. 

We can all do better.

Go to TBR News Media for accurate breaking news.

Photo from Pexels

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

When I was in college, I learned an important lesson in class that had nothing to do with the subject I was studying. Many years ago, I attended an early morning anthropology lecture.

Pacing at the front and bottom of a semicircular stage, the professor shared details about the hungry ghost festival. In various parts of Asia and India, people practice a ritual in which they relieve the suffering of their deceased relatives by providing food. During this time, the professor said, people prepare meals and leave empty seats for ghosts, who ritualistically consume the food.

Seated next to a friend from our dorm, I was busily taking notes, not only because I wanted to do well on a future test, but because I also found the description fascinating.

That’s when the professor became distracted. Someone from the audio visual department was quietly packing up equipment at the back of the room.

“Excuse me,” the professor yelled to the man. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” the man said.

“Well, you should be,” the professor barked back.

The man continued to try to pack up the materials quietly. The noise, which I barely heard from a seat that was much closer to the back of the room, was still too much for my professor.

“You’re sorry, but you’re still disrupting my class!” he shouted.

“I’m packing up the material. I work for the university. One of the other classes needs it now,” the man replied. “I’ll keep it down.”

“No, this is ridiculous,” the professor said through gritted teeth. “I won’t tolerate this. You will leave.”

The man stood still, unsure of what to do. In that moment, I felt like I had a choice: I could either say something to support the man in the back of the room or walk out of the class. By doing and saying nothing, which is what I did, I felt like I was accepting the professor’s behavior.

When the man spent one more minute doing his work, the professor demanded to know where he worked so he could show up and bother him while he was trying to concentrate.

All these years later, I still think of that small moment. These types of incidents require a readiness to think, speak or act, especially to something that disturbs or distresses us. It’s akin to what coaches say all the time in sports: know what you’re going to do with the ball before it comes to you. If you have to think too much about your next move, it’s going to be too late.

A recent anti-Asian incident in New York City, in which security guards watched as a man knocked down and kicked a 65-year-old woman on her way to church, reminded me of the need to be prepared to do the right thing, even when someone wrongs someone else.

We are more likely to act when we are prepared to help, even if the moment creates discomfort for us.

Nowadays, we all have an opportunity to support each other, particularly amid anti-American attacks on members of the Asian American community. These cowardly verbal and physical assaults will become less prevalent if perpetrators know we’re all prepared to stand up for our friends and neighbors who have become the target for random anger during the pandemic. Asian Americans are not an enemy of the rest of us any more than our heart is the enemy of our body. We should stand with, and for, each other.