BOXBOROUGH, Mass. — Recently, as I drove home from a long day of work as a home health aide, a police cruiser appeared behind me with lights flashing. It was 10 p.m. and the roads were nearly empty. As I pulled to the side of the road, my heart was pounding.
As a black man from Uganda, I was nervous. Charlie Baker, the governor of Massachusetts, had just issued a 9 p.m. curfew across the state. In the three excruciatingly long minutes it took for the officer to approach my car, I tried to sort out why I was being stopped and what would happen next.
When the officer appeared at my window, he asked just one question: “Essential worker?” I quickly replied that I was. He waved me off without asking for my driver’s license — my skin color told him everything he needed to know.
Many black people in America are on the front lines of the coronavirus pandemic, working as caregivers, health care professionals, grocery store workers, delivery people and other essential service providers. In rural areas around the country, hundreds of thousands of undocumented immigrants work as field hands and in factories and warehouses to ensure the nation’s food chain continues to function.
The work immigrants do has always been essential — it’s just not often recognized as such. After the public health crisis is over, will we find the political will to change things, or will populist politicians return to demonize immigrants as dangerous criminals, job stealers or parasites feeding on tax-funded public assistance?
For the moment, essential workers have mostly been spared unjustifiable scrutiny by law enforcement. And many are finally able to enjoy work-related benefits that their employers have long resisted. In Massachusetts, employment agencies are advertising jobs for caregivers that pay between $25 and $30 an hour, well above the pre-pandemic hourly rate of $12 to $15. There have also been plenty of overtime opportunities, with the hourly rate one and a half times the normal wage.
Even as the benefits have doubled, the challenges of working on the front lines have multiplied. My younger brother, Wahab, works as a licensed practical nurse in a nursing home. He has seen an increasing number of patients testing positive for the coronavirus. Several have died.
My brother mourns for these patients. He cared for some of them for over a year and had formed close bonds. My brother’s background is in health care. He graduated as a radiologist in Uganda and practiced for a few years before migrating to the United States. Never before has he seen so many patients dying.
During the pandemic, he has become withdrawn and talks less when he returns home. Relatives keep calling me to ask why he doesn’t answer their calls or return their messages. I tell them not to worry, even as I see the pandemic taking a toll on him. I ask them to wait until things get better.
One day Wahab returned to our one-bedroom apartment with news that so many health care workers fear. He had tested positive for Covid-19 and was required to stay home for at least two weeks. I, too, had to quarantine for two weeks because, as his roommate, I had been exposed.
During his quarantine, my brother’s supervisor, who was working remotely at her home, called to see how he was doing. She asked Wahab if he had developed any symptoms and if there was anything he needed. Each call ended with her reminding him that he would be retested and if the results were negative, he would be able to return to work immediately, especially as the nursing home was short on staff.
After every call, my brother said, in a half-joking way, that he had never seen his boss act so caring. He returned to work after two weeks.
The pandemic, as tragic as it has been, underscores the importance of the work contributions of immigrants. It is disheartening to see that there are still plenty of people who portray us as enemies or social parasites, especially when we are visible in every industry and workplace that has been designated as essential during our current crisis.
We are caring for the sick, the elderly, the disabled, children and babies. We’re delivering your food and packages, working on your farms, in your factories and warehouses. Pandemic or not, this work has always been essential.
We need the political will to enact compassionate, realistic and decent reforms that mitigate, reduce and ultimately eliminate the barriers that prevent so many of us from making a living wage. We must think about those who are underpaid and exploited, including immigrants who flee terrible situations in their homelands, come here to make an honest living and are grateful to pay taxes.
Migrants like me and my brother are here because we want to work and provide for our families, just like you. We are proud to be a part of the essential work force. We are even prouder to work on behalf of all American workers in the common effort to secure income equality and economic parity for everyone.
Yasin Kakande is a journalist and author from Uganda currently working as a home health aide. His most recent book is “Why We Are Coming.”
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