There was no church to go to this year, no painted plaster reliefs to gaze on as I tried to traverse space and time. Instead, I’m thinking about the zip-code map of COVID-19 infection in New York City. It looks, with slight variation, like every other map I’ve spent my career writing about. This is the asthma map, the pays-more-than-50%-of-their-income-in-rent map, the eviction map, the real-estate-speculators-left buildings for dead map. Scroll back a few generations, it’s the redlining map. COVID-19 has quickly become like all our other sins, a map of race and class.
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