Category: Observations

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COVID-19 Nonfiction Observations Reflection Seattle

The Things We See and Don’t See.

It was my father who alerted me about the “white lives matter” protest scheduled today in Huntington Beach, California.

“I’m so glad you don’t live there anymore,” I sighed. We both knew that this protest would likely occur around Pacific Coast Highway and Main Street, an intersection we had crossed hundreds of times in our lives. When I was a child, each parent grasped one of my hands and ushered me across PCH to access the famous Huntington Beach pier. As a youth, I rode my Schwinn 10-speed bicycle underneath the pier, usually my father ahead of me and my mother behind me. As a younger adult, the three of us walked to the end of the pier, where my parents had scattered the ashes of my paternal grandparents. Six months after my mother died, my father and I, along with a few other distant relatives, scattered her ashes into the rolling waves.

In high school, I learned to avoid the pier after dusk because skinheads were often around Main Street. At the time, I did not fully understand their beliefs nor the danger they represented. Now, as I read about the recent KKK propaganda and white supremacy violence from the years I lived there, I wonder how much racism we experienced during my youth that neither my parents nor I recognized. There was (and is) great pressure to assimilate. For many years, I attributed my discomfort to personal defects. Perhaps ignorance is bliss: Had I recognized and acknowledged the atmosphere of white supremacy, would I have done anything different? Could I have done anything differently?

The pandemic has forced us all to view everything through a different perspective. We recently got a microscope in an effort to offset the crushing psychological weight of illness, isolation, suffering, and death. The microscope also forces a different perspective.

Here’s an image of fresh seaweed from Puget Sound (400x):

Here’s an image of garlic skin (100x):

Plant cells continue to build organized structures; chlorophyll continues to convert sunlight into sugars; carbon continues to cycle in and out of life forms. The seasons will continue to change; this season of grief, loss, and sadness will also pass.

Categories
Homelessness Nonfiction Observations Seattle

Leaves of Remembrance.

Throughout Seattle there are small metal plates in the shape of maple leaves that are embedded into the sidewalk. These are “Leaves of Remembrance” that “bear names of homeless women and men who’ve died, so that every person will have a place to be remembered”. People walk on and around them all the time, unaware of the purpose or significance of the leaves.

Only a few people were on the block that morning. It was not yet 8am, so the offices were still closed. The door to the corner store was open, though no customers were inside. A man was leaning against the building on the far end of the block, smoking a cigarette. The light of the sun was just starting to break through the grey clouds.

A man was squatting on the ground, inspecting the Leaves of Remembrance surrounding him. Near him was a styrofoam container of Cup Noodles, the lid removed. He dipped a white napkin into the ramen cup and rubbed it on a metal leaf. He leaned forward to inspect his work, leaned back to change his perspective, then wiped the entire leaf clean. After rotating his body, he began washing and wiping the neighboring leaves.

I’m not sure if he ever lived outside, though he has had his own apartment for years now. Does he recognize the names on the leaves? Was this his way of commemorating someone he once knew? Was this his way of helping to beautify the neighborhood? Is this part of his routine and I simply had not noticed until that morning?

He looked up when I walked past, though he did not recognize that I work as his psychiatrist. I did not greet him, though thanked him silently for his act of kindness during this time of calamity.

Categories
Observations Seattle Systems

About the CHAZ….

You’ve heard about Seattle’s Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone (CHAZ), right? With free press from President Trump, people both in the US and abroad now know about the “Seattle takeover” and his imperative to “Take back your city NOW”.

Well, dear reader, if you believe that I am reliable narrator, let me share with you my observations of the CHAZ.

First of all, this is how the CHAZ website describes the Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone:

The Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone née “Free Capitol” is a 6 block section around the East Precinct in Seattle, WA. Abandoned by police and left to burn, this area was instead siezed [sic] by anarchists, BLM supporters and other protestors who have since transformed it into a unverisal [sic] community based on mutual aid. Fundamentally, CHAZ is an occupation of Capitol Hill, not an official declaration of independence.

Here’s some context about the Capitol Hill neighborhood where the CHAZ is located: In addition to being the gay mecca of the Pacific Northwest, Capitol Hill is the hip neighborhood of Seattle.[1. Some would comment that Capitol Hill is the hipster, not hip, neighborhood of Seattle.] Bars old and new cater to the spectrum of genders. There’s wood-fired bagel cafe; a bike shop where, after spending time in the physio lab, one can order a Matcha Chicken Avocado Bowl; and a music venue called whose full name includes “Crystal Ball Reading Room”. Two blocks south from the CHAZ is a dealership shared by Ferrari and Maserati. A local cafe offers apricot jam doughnuts for $3.85 each. Rent for a one-bedroom apartment near the CHAZ is around $2000 a month.

Now, onto my observations:

According to the City of Seattle, about 65% of the city population is white and nearly 7% are Black. The vast majority of people (much more than 65%) I saw in the CHAZ were white. Perhaps this was due to the clumps of white tourists who wanted to witness the CHAZ themselves. Maybe white allies had taken upon themselves to “do the work” and use the CHAZ to advocate for Black Lives Matter (BLM) causes and demands. (Of note, I cannot find any comments from the Seattle-King County chapter of BLM about the CHAZ.) Despite the ongoing pandemic, a notable fraction of these white individuals were not wearing face coverings.

While there is a beautiful mural of “Black Lives Matter” physically on Pine Street and references to Black individuals of Seattle and beyond who have been killed by police, the overall vibe of the CHAZ seems more focused on opposing authority. The graffiti on and around the now abandoned police station, the “conversation cafe” stations, and the new community gardens seemed to chiefly cater to white audiences and suggest an anti-establishment philosophy. Black Lives Matter and “a universal community based on mutual aid” are not the same thing, and this is highlighted in the deliberate demands of the Seattle-King County chapter of Black Lives Matter. To be fair, there is overlap between the demands of CHAZ and BLM, though what people do often reveals actual intentions compared to what people say.

In addition to philosophical contrasts, there were physical contrasts within the CHAZ. A man was hugging his adult poodle like a baby, while a crowd of people were nearly running after a man who was yelling at someone about a stolen phone. A white man with what appeared to be a taxidermy weasel draped around his shoulders got into a profane shouting match with a Black man (one of the very few I saw) seated on a bench, a push cart stuffed with belongings next to him.[2. I promise you, dear reader, that there was indeed a man who had draped what appeared to be a taxidermy weasel around his neck. Maybe it was a plush weasel, but the effect was the same.] A (white) man was shoveling wood chips into a new community garden marked with a hand-written sign that read “This garden is for Black and Indigenous folks and their plant allies”. All the doors to the public bathroom were closed and the phrase “shoplift your future back” was scrawled in spray paint on its foundation.

Meanwhile, Seattle Parks and Recreation collected trash from the CHAZ and hauled it away. An employee, wearing a face covering, emerged from a Seattle Public Utilities truck with a clipboard and headed towards the park.

Here are my questions:

Is the Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone a distraction from Black Lives Matter? If yes, what are the consequences of that distraction at local, state, and federal levels, now that President Trump has condemned this “occupation of Capitol Hill”? What are the consequences to BLM if it is conflated with the CHAZ?

Could an Autonomous Zone exist anywhere else in Seattle? Does it matter that this part of Capitol Hill is young, trendy, and expensive? Could the Autonomous Zone exist in a Seattle neighborhood with more Black lives, such as the Central District or Rainier Valley? Even if the Autonomous Zone could exist in another neighborhood, would it exist? Would protestors want that? Would the neighborhood support that?

Has the local chapter of BLM made a statement about CHAZ? If yes, why is it difficult to find? If no, what worries or hopes does BLM have about doing so? The Seattle-King County BLM chapter has demonstrated great thoughtfulness about its activities in the midst of this pandemic, including specific rules about their protest. Their silent march drew around 60,000 protestors despite the rain. I look forward to learning more about and supporting their perspectives.

Will the CHAZ protestors vote? Some argue that the only way to change the system is to join it. Others insist that change can only come from the outside, as there are too many conflicting interests from within. Voting applies in either scenario.

Will the CHAZ protestors follow the lead of BLM? Sometimes the urge to “do something” is overwhelming, when the most productive and helpful action is to wait and follow. Before people congratulate themselves on the actions they are taking, it is prudent to ensure that these actions are in the service of the goal that will both change and improve the system.

How will the CHAZ end? Will the protestors leave of their own accord? Will they stay until forced to leave? Will there be non-violent negotiations, or will we witness more violence? How much effort will Seattle Police put into returning to their precinct building? What is the Mayor’s strategy about this, now that she is the target of antagonizing messages from both Seattle residents and the President of the United States?

When will the CHAZ end? With unemployment rates high in Seattle, as in the rest of the nation, some people may choose to remain in the CHAZ because the economy continues its slump. There is a Presidential election in November and if the President continues to give his attention to the CHAZ, that may reinforce their desire to remain. If Seattle sees a spike in coronavirus cases, will the city recruit Public Health to help assess the safety of the encampments and gatherings and then ask people to leave?

If you live in the Seattle-King County area and are able, please donate money to the Seattle-King County chapter of Black Lives Matter. Whether you live in Seattle or elsewhere, please also participate in the US Census and make sure you vote in the upcoming elections. Please continue to ask questions, engage your mind, and exercise critical thinking. Change will take all of us.

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COVID-19 Homelessness Medicine Nonfiction Observations Policy Seattle

The Space Between Us.

I am one of the few people walking through downtown Seattle these days. Most of the people outside are people who slept outside the night before. Sometimes they are still sleeping in sleeping bags or tattered boxes when I walk past. They’ve always been there, but now that there are much fewer people outside, they seem to be everywhere.

The other people walking through downtown in the morning fall into two groups: People going to work, like me, and people walking their dogs. The people out and about in the morning are much more likely to wear face masks. The evening crowd seems to be younger and they are much less likely to wear face masks.

I see the magnolia trees bloom. Their pastel petals are already falling off to make room for new leaves. The soft pink cherry blossoms are already gone; the tree limbs are already full of fresh green leaves.

The offices now have bottles of liquid hand sanitizer from local distilleries. The hand sanitizer coming out of the wall dispensers have floral and chemical notes.

Every staff person should have their own set of cloth face masks. There are two in a bag. Volunteers sewed and packaged them. One of mine is dark blue with intersecting white lines. The other is light blue with a large pattern that is reminiscent of paisley.

Several people staying in our shelters have tested positive for coronavirus. There haven’t been “clusters” of cases yet, just one here, another one there. Staff show up to work, don their cloth face masks, put on gloves, and wipe down surfaces with disinfectant when they can. Some people staying in shelters cough and sneeze. Most put on the surgical face masks that staff give to them and try to stay away from other people, but where are they to go? A few are unable or unwilling to wear face masks. Staff continue to don their cloth face masks, put on gloves, and wipe down surfaces.

People are moving from congregate shelter settings into motel and hotel rooms. What will happen when people have their own private spaces? Their own bathrooms, their own beds, their own doors that they can lock? This reduces the likelihood of disease transmission. What else does this reduce? Hypervigilance? Paranoia? Pain? Substance use? (Or maybe it increases all of those things?)

The nurses are amazing. They try to assess for respiratory symptoms from six feet away, a subtle dance that we’ve all had to learn how to do quickly. Maybe it’s a chronic cough. Maybe it’s flu-like symptoms. Maybe it’s coronavirus.

The internal coronavirus team is amazing. They organize the waterfall of data and quickly refer people to the county isolation and quarantine sites. The system has started to move faster, but it’s not fast enough. And what are we to do when the isolation and quarantine sites won’t accept our referrals? Who holds the balance between liability and public health? What will the emergency departments say when it is the fear of acute withdrawal, not the actual withdrawal itself, that results in a visit from someone with coronavirus?

When I start feeling angry, I pause and realize that my colleagues in hospitals have even more reasons to feel anger. I’m not misreading the guidance: Following a high risk exposure to someone with confirmed coronavirus, staff should continue to work even if asymptomatic. Of course, I know why: The system needs health care workers to work during this pandemic. But what is the message this sends to individual workers? You might get sick, you might contribute to asymptomatic spread at work. The people who live with you might get sick. Despite this worry for yourself and those around you, please continue to work. And because we don’t have enough tests right now, we won’t test you until you start to demonstrate symptoms.

(What about the grocery store workers and farm workers? Do their employers provide face masks? Are they part of unions? Do they have health insurance?)

You are essential, you are a critical worker, you are immune to worry and anxiety. Right? This is no time to worry about yourself because we also don’t have time to worry about you.

I see the pairs of police officers leaning against their cars on Pike and Pine, their arms crossed. The sun stretches its warm rays across the sound and the new leaves rustle in the spring breeze. My cloth mask is mildly damp from the humidified air moving in and out of my lungs. I make brief eye contact with the person approaching me. We make time to worry about each other and the physical space between us grows.

Categories
COVID-19 Nonfiction Observations Seattle

Spacious in Seattle.

Downtown Seattle isn’t completely empty, but there is suddenly more space. Buses zoom by, though they carry few passengers. Rush hour traffic is a faint memory as cars speed along the avenues. Instead of weaving my way through crowds of people, I now have meters of sidewalk all to myself.

I went on a cookie break this afternoon. The sole employee in the cookie shop saw me pause at the front door while I read the sign: “Express window is open”. From inside, she beckoned me to walk three meters to the right, and when I arrived at the window, she slid it open.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Do you have day-olds?”

“Yes, right here.” She waved a gloved hand over the small basket sitting just inside the window. Cookies, stacked three high, were wrapped tightly in saran wrap. I selected a standard chocolate chip stack and a double chocolate stack.

While we waited for the credit card reader, we talked about these extraordinary times.

“Thanks for providing cookies to those of us who are working.”

“Thank you for buying them!”

“Yes, I’m glad that this shop is open. At least we have jobs.”

She nodded vigorously, then added, “Yeah, we are lucky.”

About an hour earlier, I asked one of the younger nurses at the agency how she was doing. She said that she was doing okay, then shared that she was grateful that she still had a job. She grimaced while she shared this anecdote: “Have you heard of This Fancy Restaurant? They laid off all of their staff on the same day. They can’t even collect unemployment.”

After tucking the two stacks of cookies into my coat, I saw this:

handwash

The restaurant serves a type of Asian cuisine. The man behind the counter was helping a customer, so I didn’t go in to thank him. Had I done so, I think I would’ve started crying.