I am NOT a biohazard
“I am not a biohazard.” My friend Mike Dickson, the Fit Farmer, uttered these words on stage at a recent gathering at Joel Salatin’s Polyface farm. For months, I had been feeling that something just wasn’t right when it came to social distancing and masks. When asked, I struggled to articulate just why it felt so wrong to me.
Psychologically, we all feel its effects. Masks make it impossible to read others’ expressions. It is more difficult to communicate. We struggle to be heard and understood. Words are muffled. We are, in effect, muzzled. Social distancing limits our interactions, making physical proximity and connection rare, if not altogether impossible, at times. We are told not to get together in large groups and to keep others at a “safe” distance. Physically, there is no touch (not counting the less-than-satisfying elbow taps).
I have always understood, on an intellectual level, the reason we were being given these instructions: to slow the spread of contagion and, ostensibly, to save lives. But I couldn’t shake a strong sense in the core of my being that something was amiss, that these instructions weren’t guiding us in the right direction.
The moment Mike said “I am not a biohazard” a lightbulb went on. That statement points to the crux of the problem with our current restrictions. They lead us to fear one another. To treat our neighbors, friends, and family as if they were radioactive.
The restrictions keep us apart. When, in fact, we were designed for quite the opposite. We were meant to connect, to embrace, to see each other’s faces, to be together, to trust, to smile, and to touch one another.
Since the beginning of time, we have been a tribal people. We have populated the earth in communities that sustain one another emotionally and physically. The very prefix of the word “community” indicates what it is about: “com” means “with” or “together” in Latin.
To wit, some tribal communities used isolation as punishment for individuals in their group. Delinquent members were cast out for a time, deprived of connection and touch. They would often become dispirited and contrite, following their sequestration.
No wonder people wearing masks appear downcast, and even like hostages, to me. It’s as if they’re being punished and have become somehow captive to greater forces, unable to speak or connect with those around them.
Some might assume that I am being too tender-hearted about humanity, while overlooking the serious nature of the virus. Not at all. I believe it’s real. I simply believe our approach to it is unhealthy.
In my estimation, imagining our fellow human beings as a danger to our health is, in fact, more likely to jeopardize our health, on all levels: psychologically, emotionally, socially, spiritually, and, yes, physically. Isolation takes its toll. It has led to a dramatic uptick in depression, anxiety, and loneliness—all of which suppress immune system function.
You may disagree with my assessment and that is your prerogative. I will not, of course, force affection or connection on those who do not want it. I will, however, connect with those who are unafraid of their fellow human beings—those who are also convinced that we are designed to be together, to see each other with free faces, to touch one another. These are the people who are certain of the following facts. I am not a biohazard. Nor are you.
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This article first appeared on Medium. Hilda Labrada Gore is a biohacker, certified health coach, and fitness professional. She is the host and producer of the Wise Traditions podcast and Tradiciones Sabias podcasts, on behalf of the Weston A. Price Foundation. She is a podcast coach, too, and the author of “Podcasting Made Simple.” She is a YouTuber, helping people live their best lives through experts, experiences, and epic adventures. Hilda has energy to spare thanks to her ancestral health practices and her love for sunshine and liverwurst.