Patient Spotlight: COVID has been really hard for BIPOC
Body Type contributor Delia Rogers interviewed Shanice Ariel on her experience with long-haul COVID.
Delia Rogers: What is one thing you want people to know about COVID?
Shanice Ariel: The first thing I would want people to know about COVID is that it's harsh and it is unknown. Especially for BIPOC. And the long-haul symptoms can really be confusing and overwhelming, so I just want people to understand that they can heal, and the healing journey does take time. You need to help you heal yourself, and it doesn't have to be taking western medicine either. This is not the only way we can heal, through pills and medicine. I think it's really important to explore different ways of healing.
Another thing about COVID is that people need to take it seriously. In New York City I think we're just so over it that people are just doing whatever they want. I just want people to know to be safe, take measures for yourself, and have boundaries.
Some people don't respect any of this. I'm a long hauler and so many people don't even know what long haulers are. I've even had doctors who ask, “What are long haulers?” And then I have to explain the long COVID symptoms. A lot of the time they don't believe it and they just knock it down to being a mental health issue.
We should all seek answers—self-advocating is really important. I think that we get a little bit scared about talking to people because not everyone wants to listen, or doctors might just dumb it down to nothing. But it’s more than that.
Mostly, I just really want people to understand that they’re not alone, and that we can all find support together. For instance, I am very appreciative that I found more information in the media, then I found you (Body Politic), and then I found a lot of people that stemmed from that. It is just nice to be heard and be seen, because sometimes people don’t hear our story. I have been an activist of mental health, I write, and I have a community organization called Open Mic Renegades, so I am always advocating and doing hard things. My mantra is: “I am going to do hard things, I can do hard things.” So you can do this—this is just another hard thing you can do. Because life has not always been easy.
Artwork by Delia Rogers
DR: What was most helpful to you during your time in quarantine? What is something you wish you had more of?
SA: I was at Northwell Hospital in Forest Hills, Queens—I was there for three days and they kind of pushed me out because they needed beds. My sister lives in Nevada, my aunt lives in Florida, and my other close family lives in Virginia. So my family is all spread out. But my friends are here, and I have a great support system which I am incredibly grateful for, because without them I don't know what I would have done. When I was leaving the hospital, they didn’t know I was leaving because I had disabled my phone because I wasn’t cognitive, so I couldn't talk to anybody. They eventually found a hotel for me. I stayed at the hotel for two days, and then I was in an Airbnb.
I was quarantined in that Airbnb for three weeks in Brooklyn, by Rockaway Park. But that quarantine time is a blur. Some people ask me if I have pictures from that time, and I didn't even really have a phone—I wasn't cognitive at that point, and I couldn't even see (three blood vessels from my left eye and two blood vessels from my right eye popped). So I couldn't see for a good two months, it was blurred vision. I guess what I wish I'd had during my quarantine was somebody there with me, but obviously I was so sick during this crazy time that I could not have anybody there with me. Taking care of myself was really hard. My sister would FaceTime me every day, she was so worried. She always asked if she could get me anything, and a lot of my friends did bring me food, but I really wish I'd had a home-cooked meal during that time. I think that could have given me a lot of energy—you know that energy you get from a home-cooked meal? I couldn't even cook, I was eating canned soup. But it’s a crazy time for everyone—everyone has their own story even if they didn't get sick, you know?
I didn’t want to feel everything that was happening because it was an almost death experience for me. I went into septic shock and then I don't remember what happened, but they said I almost died. That was hard, and then I got kicked out, and then on top of that I was scared of where I was going to go after the three weeks were done. There were so many problems, we were in the epicenter—I remember thinking, “How am I going to do this?” I had no job, no income, so it was a lot to process. But I am thankful that I had my friends, my sister and my aunt, and all of the people who kept on calling and checking up on me. I had people who brought me things to the door, like food and clothes and things from my apartment, but I really wish I had someone there with me, because it was really hard. But I am really grateful I had a good support system. They would wave through the window, that was really nice.
DR: What is one way you think that allies can best support COVID patients and long haulers?
SA: By listening, and hearing our story. By understanding that it’s not just black and white, there is so much more involved. We are being hit mentally and physically and spiritually by all of these things at once. And nothing can be explained because we know so little about the virus, whether it be hair loss or brain fog or digestive issues or gynecological issues, because I have all of these issues. So I wish there was more empathy, more understanding, more compassion, and an understanding that it isn’t easy to keep advocating for ourselves. It’s frustrating, angering, sad—all of the emotions! Especially for BIPOC, it is really exhausting to keep advocating for ourselves. I want to emphasize that COVID has been really hard for BIPOC—I have always said that. And being BIPOC myself, I want people to understand that it’s not easy at all, and being heard is crucial.
DR: What about COVID is most excluded from the narrative popularized by the media?
SA: Nobody is talking about the reproductive symptoms. I have PCOS and it has begun to flare up because of my COVID symptoms. I have also become diabetic. I think the digestive issues need to be talked about more, because it has been really hard. I have always had stomach issues, but now it is ten times worse. I am hearing about the brain fog and the headaches and the fatigue, but I am not hearing about the rest of our bodies.
Also, I know people don’t really talk about spirituality, but COVID definitely tests your spirituality. I am very spiritual in many ways, and just trying to get out of bed is really hard. So I think that a part of me knows that if I can keep doing this and keep helping people and keep putting my story out there, it’s not for me. It’s about sharing your voice, and expressing yourself, and if I can help one person that is enough for me. And I think long COVID definitely was another test from the universe from me—but I’ve been tested a lot with everything in my life. With those tests it is important to find the purpose. You are here for a purpose. So when things are overwhelming and really down, I just think about the fact that I had another chance.
***
Selection of Poetry by Shanice Ariel
Almost a year ago, my life was turned upside down.
It’s been a long time, patience will be kind.
Marvelous spirit.
I’ve dealt with so much.
This is just another.
Emotional numbing.
Stuck inside.
Healing in time.
I have to stop my survival instincts.
Just be.
Shining the light.
The world was meant for me.
Doing what I have to do.
- reflection
*
5th dimension gyal.
Running through so many souls.
Our history repeating in space quarantine as we’re running through parts of ourselves that we can’t escape.
Taking medicine to cover up these thoughts.
How life has shaped us.
We’re creatures of the night.
Captured apes in dungeons too close minded as humans cannot survive.
How high do you have to be to think you’re in another dimension?
How far can you feel another being?
Alienated by unsaturated emotions building in to this galaxy.
There’s so much more than the material world.
Where’s a life outside of this earth that’s desperately trying to breathe.
Can we sit and be.
Can we let these raw emotions out.
Just to finally feel free.
*
I keep knocking on heavens door... or is it hell?
Loving myself in my own realm.
Tragedy has struck my chord one too many times.
I’m duality called sacredness.
Stealing life over as it twists and turns.
Soul beyond words.
Facing myself day in and out.
Staring at a reflection that is beyond my time.
- a muse that won’t be broken
*
Bullet proof soul, a song that plays on my shuffle daily.
Sage climbing through my lungs
cleansing the murky toxins that entered my sanctum.
A slow bullet entered my body
Almost ending my soul.
Holding tight my angels
Still I am not sheltered from grief,
my heartache, my loss, my body.
This war isn’t over
it’s placing fear in our hearts and nothing can be the same.
Interchangeable muses work through the veins of our own demise.
This divine power to become bullet proof will not diminish.
*
I keep trying to let go of parts of me that cradled me to darkness.
With near death experiences and traumas arise through this pandemic.
Finding very way to control the hurtful parts of me.
To breathe in and out.
My heart wants to change the world while my mind wants rest.
I’m in between of trying so hard to find this way to exist.
For every occasion, I’m ready for anything to happen.
Silent and loving, yet not awaken fully.
As I’m exposed fully, creatively and it’s like the depression won’t end.
Opening up and learning to wipe the muck away.
I’m here, but I’m not anymore.
Love swindles in my face and I’ll keep the smile still.
There’s purpose through my spirit.
I cannot be beat down.
*
Magic trickster heart
One minute there’s a time ticking bomb
Some days I can’t get up.
My aura fills with rose quartz and
palo santo.
I clear the air my 3am struggles.
Waking up with dismissive actions I am not able to remember.
Blubbering guts intertwine with
composure of time.
What is it like to be free?
That hasn’t been determined.
*
Who Will Save The Children
Sun burning as the ashes peel off.
There is a heavy weight in our bodies as we have no voice.
They’re crying aloud for help, but tortured to silence.
Laying on the ground trying to grip the feeling of being lost.
All you can hear are thudding footsteps
They mock our culture, saying we don’t belong.
Why do you have the power?
Why are we shackled?
They wail in pain for a loved one to find them.
Faces of strangers who won’t do anything.
They close their eyes and embrace the lies.
Searching for help. PLEASE Surrender.
How did we get here?
If only I had a crystal ball.
Trapped and becoming numb, we are all burned at the stake for not having a paper.
Separated by the only thing called home.
A land full of disgust and now we become dust.
Blood pigs search us out.
We pray to God and hope we can make it to their arms.
Sometimes I have to remember how to breathe.
Is it freedom or death?
I don’t see a bluff.
Breeding the vengeance.
I see their faces. I see you. What are we going to do?
I hope they reborn from their scars and revive in to their higher selves, battle ready.
*
Access
At some point where do I even stand
How do I even stand?
They ask how do you even do this?
You look at me and see a good woman who is too kind.
The advantages of being too kind is the switch
when you aren’t good anymore.
I want you to know, this ambition, this hustle, comes from a place you’ll NEVER want to know.
Silenced for too long, fucked up for too long.
My heart has been broken since birth.
When I say that.. no I don’t want you to feel bad.
It’s only because I was a nurturer by blood and by mercy
Taking care of you was the only way to live or was it to die?
Good girl turned bad
back to good
then back to bad NOW what is she?
To remember ourselves home.
To belong to something.
I can never take away what you gave me, but this inner child needs some saving.
When I say I can do this it’s because the resurfacing of his stomach on mine, the survivor in me, the blood, the beat down of everyday, it is why I’m here today.
Oh the stories, the stories I’ve never told.
I do this because my voice wasn’t heard.
I didn’t allow myself to be heard.
But you do.
I will put my back on the floor to see you all stand.
That’s my word.
***
Shanice Ariel is a writer hailing from Queens, NYC. She believes firmly that all unheard voices matter which is why she founded Open Mic Renegades, a safe space for writers and the spoken word community throughout Greater New York City. Her writing dives deep into themes of self-love and healing from abuse. While her journey hasn’t been easy, this is just the beginning, and with her writing and through building community, she hopes to spread perseverance and inspire others to share their stories.
Delia Rogers is a fourth year undergraduate student at The New School studying Global Studies with a minor in Race & Ethnicity Studies and Gender Studies. She is interested in the ways in which race, class, and gender intersect with wellness.
