The biggest story this week has been the coronavirus. We are learning that it is an unusual virus, in that there is no way to know if someone is carrying it or not, because it takes days to manifest. When someone does get it, it can feel like no more than a cold, or it can very rapidly turn into an upper respiratory crisis that may be deadly for people with asthma, COPD, and the like.

One of the biggest problems in containing the virus is our unacknowledged and unattended problem with poverty (see Arkansas Times, 3/7/2020, editorial by Rev William Barber and Rev. Liz Theoharis, leaders of the Poor People’s Campaign). How will minimum wage workers with no health care and no sick leave stay home? See a doctor to get tested? Stock up on food and prescriptions? If we close the schools, what will happen to the children whose only meal happens in school? To the children who have no access to virtual learning technology? What if public transportation stops?

Our response to this crisis is hampered by the systemic inequalities we’ve created. We need to get testing kits into neighborhood clinics, need to provide free doctor’s visits, need to forgive any debts people might incur from not being able to work, need to set up thousands of soup kitchens to make sure people don’t go hungry. Because we have a leaky health care system and leaky sense of concern for the poor and marginalized, we will end up with a very leaky containment plan.

Another story that caught my eye this week turned out to be an old story that popped up in my news feed. Back in the 1930’s and 1940’s, first-person accounts of former slaves were audio-taped and transcribed as part of the Federal Writer’s Project. “In the collection of the Library of Congress, Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers’ Project, 1936-1938 contains more than 2,300 first-person accounts of slavery and 500 black-and-white photographs of former slaves” (National Museum of African American History and Culture, blog post).

Ted Koppel reported on this project on ABC’s show “Nightline,” back in 1999. He showed some of the photographs and played excepts from the tapes, with former slaves speaking frankly about their lives as slaves. He referred to the collection as, “arresting, almost unbelievable. The idea of hearing the voices of actual slaves from the plantations of the Old South is as powerful—as startling, really—as if you could hear Abraham Lincoln or Robert E. Lee speak.”

I wish an African American had done that report. When I read Koppel’s words, I was sorry that he did not speak of how painful these records must be for African-Americans to hear. Can you imagine a descendant of these 2,300 first-person accounts listening to a tape of their ancestor? I think tears would be rolling down their faces. This exceptional historic record ought to make us all weep, out of a sense of mourning for the individuals who are still speaking to us and the lives they lost to slavery.

This happened, also:  Matt Gaetz (R – Florida) wore a gas mask on the floor of the House of Representatives to protest the amount of attention the media has been giving to the coronavirus. He was allowed to sit there wearing his mask as he worked. Representative Bobby Rush (D – Illinois) tweeted that in 2012, when he wanted to honor the memory of Trayvon Martin by wearing something that would get the attention of his fellow legislators, he was removed by the sergeant-at-arms.

Rush spoke on the floor of the House about the urgency of finding ways to halt racial profiling. Rush is a black man. He was dressed in his customary business suit and tie. As he spoke, he removed his suit jacket, revealing a gray sweatshirt underneath. He continued speaking as he lifted the hoodie of his sweatshirt up over his head, until his facial features were hidden and indistinguishable.

You can probably guess what happened next. No one in the chamber wanted to absorb this lesson, particularly the Republican who was presiding over the House. He kept banging his gavel, calling Rush out of order, citing the rule that said no hats in the chamber, and calling security to remove him. It was both infuriating and comical to watch.

Rush made his point, though. For way too many white people, particularly law enforcement but also the general public, the sight of a black person whose face is hidden by a hoodie triggers fear, a sense of danger, a suspicion that the individual is a hoodlum, probably has a gun and is committing a crime. Rush showed how baseless those perceptions are.

Being quick to judge others on the basis of appearances: that’s something most people say they work on. I’m not so sure. I think we have quite a ways to go.