Masking my anger

As I write this, I'm on a plane home to see my family. Because of covid, I haven't seen any of them in almost two years, since my grandmother died shortly before the pandemic. This is the longest I've ever gone without seeing my parents. I can't wait to give them and my sisters unreasonably tight hugs, to spend time with them, and hopefully to explore improving our relationships (a topic for another blog post; or, perhaps, something I should keep private, not to be shouting my family's particular dysfunctions from the rooftops).

Family is really important to me. It's why I've put myself in this situation which utterly terrifies me. This is my first flight since the end of 2019. I know that folks have been traveling for a while now, and airplane transmission isn't that high. I'm vaccinated, and I'm wearing my mask carefully. But I find myself looking daggers at other passengers who sit unmasked for minutes on end, not just to eat or drink, but to talk to each other, or when heading to the bathroom.

I don't want to care what these other people are doing. I hate the urge I feel to police them. Most people don't like being told what to do; I know I don't. They could respond badly, or at a minimum, think ill of me, which I always have trouble not caring about.

But seeing them unmasked feels very scary. I feel like they're being cavalier with their safety, my safety, and the safety of everyone around us, and everyone we'll see in the next two to fourteen days. I want to yell at them, "put your fucking mask on, asshole!" I want to plead with them, "please wear the mask, it would make me feel a whole lot better." I've considered calling a flight attendant and asking her to ask them to mask up. But I haven't.

I don't think their behavior indicates that they're necessarily awful people, who don't care about the safety of others; nor that they're necessarily idiots, who don't know anything about this disease, and haven't been paying attention to information about it; nor that they're necessarily scofflaws who think the rules ought not apply to them. My knowledge of who they are and why they do what they do is basically nonexistent. I have a small, very grainy picture of who they are, far from enough to judge them.

We tend to look at the actions of others and assume that they're the sort of people who would do the things we see them doing. We often fail to consider them as whole people, with changing moods and fluctuating capacity to think through their actions. On the other hand, when we analyze our own actions, or the actions of someone we know well, we tend to allow a lot more leeway. We have a much more nuanced understanding of why they might be doing something we disapprove of, and we're more likely to be patient and forgiving with them.

I don't know these people. I desperately wish that they, and all the other people on the plane and in the airports, were wearing their masks more like I do. But they're not me. They don't have my experiences, they haven't thought my thoughts. I do the things I do not just based on my situation, but also who I am, and what's happened to me. I can't expect other people to behave the same as me. Having confronted this, I feel robbed of my anger. My fellow passengers are no longer demons, but simply people I don't understand, and don't know how to get through to.

I remain, however, scared and deeply frustrated.