Piazza Privilege

This post is about privilege. Today we decided to use our tiny balcony to pretend that we were in an Italian piazza rather than stuck in our Shanghai apartment. This weekend we made a feast out of the fanciest cheeses and cold cuts from our fridge. We’ve recently watched Dune, The Power of the Dog, West Side Story and CODA, all from the comfort of our (increasingly sagging) couch. And we’re surrounded by neighbours in our compound who have been very kind and supportive to one-another throughout these harsh few weeks of confinement. Even though we’ve lost our freedom for a total of 56 days and counting, we’re still luckier than 99% of people in Shanghai.

Living for so long in China starts to make you a little inured to the all-pervasive miasma of state power. So your messages of support over the last couple of months have not just been a massive morale booster, but also a useful reminder that this hasn’t been ‘normal’, and there is such a thing as individual human dignity. Having said that, it has been a little uncomfortable to read comments about our “bravery” and “endurance”, when in fact for the most part we’ve been able to wallow in the luxury of denial and disassociation. That’s the power of privilege, even in times like these.

We’ve certainly had our lows. This whole time, Denny has been working from home with a broken hand. And while I’ve been telling myself that I’m functioning fine, my body has been telling me that I’m not. One day let me regale you with all the fun and creative symptoms it came up with. But for now, I’m taking a cue from the weather and am starting the week with a sunnier disposition. Parts of Shanghai are supposedly opening up this week. No doubt there will be many days of continued false hope and confusion before this means anything to us. Until then, I’ll be in my Italian piazza. Finché c'è vita c'è speranza.


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