Government officials, at both the federal and state levels, have requested that families “stay home, save lives” to slow the spread of COVID-19, and to protect themselves, and those around them. Back in March, Michigan Medicine displayed a graphic showing how we can flatten the curve (slow the spread of COVID-19): if communities work together to slow the spread of this virus, the number of cases will stretch out across a longer period of time, allowing hospital beds to accommodate more people. Staying home and practicing social distancing can be a way families across the U.S. can help slow the spread of COVID- 19, but staying home is not the safest reality for everyone. On April 2nd, The Rising Majority — a coalition of allied organizations and movements formed in 2017 — hosted a virtual teach-in with activists Angela Y. Davis and Naomi Klein to discuss movement building in the time of the coronavirus crisis. Angela Davis discussed the gendered violence of capitalism and how so many survivors of abuse are not able to retreat to a safe home during this pandemic: “This whole idea of ‘staying at home’ assumes we can retreat to a safe, nurturing environment, a refuge.” After viewing this teach-in and thinking about this insight from Davis, I shifted my attention to what staying home may look like for survivors of abuse and violence in unprotected conditions: Violence against women and children is a public health crisis and staying home to slow the spread of COVID-19 has many impacts on those who cannot go to safe homes. The National Domestic Hotline reported 951 calls between March 10 and 24 that mentioned COVID-19; one caller from New York said her abuser threw her out the front door and kept their child after she woke up because she was not feeling well. Life- threatening situations like living in abusive households place inexplicable pain on survivors to take part in this worldwide retreat to homes. In Grand Rapids, Mich. alone, domestic violence cases have spiked 48%, as reported by Kent County Prosecutor’s Office and some of the blame can be placed on the coronavirus; a prosecutor of Kent County voiced concerns of children facing abuse being unable to reach out to trusted adults for help like teachers due to remote learning. Furthermore, there are many impacts on those who do not have safe homes and those who may be economically dependent on their abusers; financial uncertainty for some can prevent them from leaving home — even outside of this pandemic as cases have spiked during times of economic crisis. The CEO of the National Domestic Violence Hotline, Katie Ray-Jones reported to TIME magazine that the calls they have received have ranged from “abusers threatening to throw survivors out on the streets so that (the survivors will) get sick” to “(withholding) financial and medical resources”. Advocates are still providing resources for those experiencing violence and abuse. As reported by the director for the legal project at two justice centers for New York’s Sanctuary for Families — a shelter that provides legal and counseling services for women and their children — “though New York shelters are considered essential, many domestic violence service providers are not seeing as many clients because of the virus and are moving their services to online.” But hotlines are still open and some states like Philadelphia have set up online databases where individuals can request protection against their abusers. Keep in mind that not everyone has the ability to go to a safe home nor remain there during this crisis - staying home is a privilege. To provide allyship to those you may know who are living in unsafe spaces, ask them how you can support them in this time and provide them with local resources in a safe manner, so that their livelihood is not compromised. Linked below is a website that provides resources for those experiencing homelessness, those who identify as survivors and those seeking support for domestic and sexual abuse; these resources have been combined by national organizations and community organizations. If I stretch my memory as far back as it’ll bend, I can remember the first time I had to teach myself how to breathe again. My parents had gone to a fundraiser, leaving me alone with my sister and my brother. I don’t remember exactly why, but I remember I needed to talk to my mom on the phone. For whatever reason, maybe because they thought I was too much of a mama’s girl or maybe they wanted to mess with me, my siblings wouldn’t let me call her. Then there was this pressure on my chest, a feeling that I can only compare to someone taking a dull spoon and carving out your heart, and I couldn’t breathe anymore. I started sobbing uncontrollably and begged them to let me use the phone. I was maybe 7 or 8, but the possibility that this might be the last time I got to talk to my mother or that something horrible would happen if I didn’t hear her say she loved me that night overtook me. My hands went numb, and I’ll never forget sitting in my room alone, desperately trying to coax air back into my lungs. There are so many little moments like that from my childhood that my family and I had chalked up to me being , being sensitive, a crybaby, but which read like undiagnosed anxiety when I write them out. I love my family so much, but I felt so misunderstood. For so much of my life, I internalized that view of myself — that I was a crybaby, irrational, prone to over-dramatic displays of emotion for no reason — and for a long time, it stopped me from developing any security in my emotions. I am normally the first to apologize, I let countless makeup technicians and hairstylists fully fuck up my face because I don’t know how to speak up for myself, and I tread so lightly around everyone’s feelings because they must be more valid. It wasn’t until I was much older and I spoke to a therapist that I had the language to describe what I was going through. It was hard hearing that I showed very classic signs of clinical depression and anxiety, but for the first time I could trust my feelings as being real and valid and not just a creation of my melodramatic mind. Most importantly, they were something I could control. We all have these stories about our lives we tell ourselves in our heads, again and again, until they become our reality. I never told my parents about any of this, because being misunderstood had become a core part of my story. I equated coming from a culture that doesn’t prioritize understanding mental health to my parents simply not caring about mine. I would get so angry at them for not sympathizing with a struggle I never made the effort to explain to them. I resented them, a little bit, for being a barrier in my attempts to get better. I told myself I was alone in this, I had always been alone, and there was no point in asking for help. Ironically, amidst all this social distancing, I no longer had the choice to isolate myself. Being quarantined with my family day in, day out means that all of my emotions are on full display for them to see again. Despite my best efforts to hide how hard this whole pandemic was for me, my mom walked in on me one night mid-panic attack. My hands were shaking, my mouth gaping, gasping for breath, I was suddenly a child again. Except, I wasn’t alone this time. My mom immediately put her hands on my back and told me to breathe. I could feel the hesitant judgement and confusion attached, but she stayed with me for however long it took me to calm down. That willingness to meet me where I am meant the world to me. A universal gap in knowledge for most first-generation immigrants is understanding that just because their parent’s love and support doesn’t show up how they want it to, it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. We speak our love (among other things) in different languages. Our parents only know what it is to try to survive in this country and they want the same thing for us. They didn’t have the luxury of self-actualization. There was always a bigger problem. Emotional needs were always a barrier to be buried. It doesn’t mean they don’t care. When I decided to look for it, love was there. Even if my mother couldn’t fully grasp what I was going through, she still sat there and breathed with me. And what a great miracle it is now to share a breath. That’s all that really matters, all that I can expect. The new FX series titled “Dave” is a semi-autobiography of David Burd, played by himself, who goes by Lil Dicky on stage. Yes, it is a corny dick joke and yes, I kinda love it. Moving on. We follow Lil Dicky’s journey as he’s trying to make it in the music industry and become the greatest rapper alive. Along with his friends Mike (Andrew Santino), Elz (Travis ‘Taco’ Bennett), and GaTa (played by GaTa himself), they experience the ups and downs of what it means to be a new artist on the scene with a lot to prove. While the show only has six episodes released on Hulu so far, I’m a fan already. It’s goofy, adorable, cringy, relatable and really fucking funny. I value seeing heartwarming relationships on-screen so I was thrilled to see such endearing friendships develop quickly throughout the first six episodes. One character, in particular, seems to be a fan favorite already. GaTa is Lil Dicky’s hypeman, the person on stage with a rapper to get the crowd excited, and succeeds in bringing a pure and lighthearted aspect to the group’s dynamic. In the show, he’s a new member of the friend group after meeting Dave outside of YG’s studio in the first episode. So far, GaTa’s already stealing scenes and showing off his chops in his first acting role. He’s the kind of character that does something so unexpected and unfiltered that you just have to laugh in disbelief. I would compare his character to Darius played by LaKeith Stanfield in another FX show called “Atlanta”. In the fifth episode titled, “Hype Man” the audience sees a more serious side to the show. After a failed rehearsal where GaTa becomes overwhelmingly ‘hype,’ he later reveals he has bipolar disorder. We see a heartbreaking flashback of his manic episodes and his diagnosis. The reaction to GaTa’s disorder is validating and what I think most people would hope to receive after opening up to their new friends. This episode was a very pleasant surprise. I believe the portrayal of people with mental illnesses has become increasingly positive in the media over the years, and “Dave” did a valiant effort of showing that mental illness is not an anomaly. GaTa tells us that the people who you may least expect — hypemen whose entire job is to uplift the energy in the room— might be suffering in silence in the hopes of making everyone else feel better. After the episode aired, GaTa posted a video on Instagram thanking viewers for their kind reviews of his acting, however not all of it was just a role. He shared that events such as his manic fit at a shoe store with his mom to getting kicked off tour buses after making other artists uncomfortable, were almost completely accurate, along with the fact that he does have bipolar disorder in real life. He shares, “I’m just here to inspire yall… I just want mental health awareness. I want people to take it very seriously, especially while we’re going through this,” (referring to the current quarantine measures most people are taking). While “Dave” has been comedic relief for me during these trying times, seeing GaTa’s story has been extremely influential to me and viewers like me who also suffer from mental health difficulties. If you need a break from the craziness of self-isolation, take a break from reading the news, give “Dave” a try, and most importantly take care of yourself. The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com Michigan in Color Monday, April 13, 2020 — 3 MICHAELA MINNIS MiC Columnist CAMILLE MOORE MiC “Off the Record” Blogger Mental health awareness in FX’s ‘Dave’ JINAN ABUFARHA MiC Columnist FX NETWORKS حساسة Learning to breathe What Does ‘Staying Home’ Look Like during COVID-19?