WWW.QNS.COM RIDGEWOOD TIMES APRIL 16, 2020 13
We will all get through this pandemic together
SNAPS
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AHH, THE DAYS OF AVOCADO TOAST
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BY FRANCISCO MOYA
The ambulance sirens never stop
in Corona.
A month ago, our streets were fi lled
with the sound of soccer games playing
in Latin American restaurants and
bachata music coming from Dominican
barber shops. Now it’s the whine
of emergency sirens that hangs in the
air.
It’s inescapable. You hear them
getting louder as ambulances race
through the neighborhood, and then
soft ening as COVID-19 patients are carried
away, down the street to Elmhurst
Hospital.
Some people have asked how to keep
from getting numb to the “staggering”
number of cases. Indeed, the numbers
are stunning. If the borough were its
own state, it would have the third most
cases and deaths in the country behind
only New York and New Jersey. The
death rate in the “World’s Borough”
matches the global mortality rate of
6 percent — higher than both the U.S.
and New York rates.
Yes, the fi gures are staggering, but
nobody in my community is numb to
them. Each siren is for a neighbor, a
friend, a family member.
Early on, aft er we knew the pandemic
would come to New York City
but before we could appreciate the
ferocity with which it would spread,
the disease was talked about as an
equalizer. It didn’t respect our borders
or your station in life. Nobody
was immune and everyone needed to
take it seriously.
That’s about when we saw the
exodus of wealthy residents from the
city to their second homes outside the
epicenter. Most of us stayed here and
worked from home. But those who
couldn’t do either — the frontline
workers who stock grocery stores and
warehouses, deliver food and supplies,
the healthcare support staff and building
maintenance employees — they
kept working. And they kept getting
sick.
This is why COVID-19 hit low-income
neighborhoods like mine the hardest.
It’s true that nobody is immune but
the idea that we’re all just as vulnerable
as each other is a lie. This is an
equal opportunity disease that unequally
aff ects those with the fewest
opportunities.
Why? It’s about the jobs people in
our community work. Latino and black
Americans are more likely to work in
the service or hospitality industry —
jobs that can’t be done remotely. These
jobs are typically low-paid (despite
their essential nature) and come with
a higher risk of exposure.
It’s about access to health care.
Between 2010 and 2018, Hispanics and
blacks were 2.5 and 1.5 times, respectively,
more likely to be uninsured
than whites, according to a Kaiser
Family Foundation study published
last month.
It’s about our neighborhoods. We
live in dense communities and multigenerational
family households. If
one resident gets infected, the disease
roars through home attacking, partners,
kids, parents or siblings.
It’s also cultural. Latinos can’t say
no to a family gathering. We say
hello with a hug and a kiss and crowd
around a dinner table. What makes
us vibrant also made us vulnerable.
These dynamics are apparent in the
data, now confi rming what some of us
saw coming back in March — that the
pandemic is disproportionately killing
Latino and black New Yorkers.
Many undocumented immigrants
face an additional tragic reality. One
of the most devastating issues that
I’m hearing about from constituents
is undocumented New Yorkers
who have lost loved ones to the disease
but can’t aff ord to make fi nal
arrangements.
For other low-income New Yorkers,
the New York City Human Resources
Administration off ers burial assistance
up to $900. To qualify, however,
the applicant must provide social
security numbers for themselves
and the deceased, eff ectively barring
undocumented immigrants from
eligibility.
That’s why I’m working with
Speaker Corey Johnson to create an
emergency fund to help these families
put their loved ones to rest. We’re
determined to make sure we’re there
for all New Yorkers in need during
this time, regardless of their immigration
status.
This crisis isn’t forever. The good
news is that the number of cases
and the rate of hospitalizations are
starting to fall. We’ll get through
this nightmare and when we do,
we’ll have health care professionals
and working-class heroes defending
the frontline to thank. I’m humbled
and inspired by the selfl essness and
bravery they’ve displayed since day
one of the outbreak.
I can’t wait for Queens to sound
like home again — when FC Barcelona
games and Latin music replace the
sirens. They will, though. Until then,
we all have a part to play in realizing
that future. That means staying home
and away from others if we can and
making sure that those who can’t
have the protections they need to
keep this city on life support. And if
and when the worst happens, we have
to live up to the standard we’ve set:
We’re all in this together.
Council Member Francisco Moya
represents the 21st District in Queens,
encompassing East Elmhurst, LeFrak
City, a section of Jackson Heights and
Corona, where he was born, raised and
lives today.
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