The Inconvenient Truth About Friendships During a Global Pandemic
The coronavirus has shifted the way we socially engage with each other forcing me to reflect on relationships, and more specifically, my friendships.
When you break up with a romantic love partner, the people around you give you space to grieve. Your friends call to check up on you, offering ice cream by the gallon. Your mom shows up with jollof rice and fried plantain, the perfect remedy for a broken heart. But what about when you lose a meaningful friendship in the midst of a global pandemic? A friendship that you’ve cultivated for years through late night Thai food runs, spontaneous international trips, long conversations about the nuances of life, and promises for your future children to emulate your tight bond. Is there a playbook that governs how to move through the loss of such friendships while simultaneously grappling with the physical, mental, and emotional tolls of lockdown measures, social distancing and rising infection rates? In her song “Work in Progress”, singer and songwriter Maimouna Yousseff writes, “some things are only meant for a season”, alluding to the ephemeral nature of things we believe will last forever. I’ve learned the hard way some friendships are only meant for a season and that a global pandemic has the potential to dramatically shift, for better or for worse, the course of a friendship.
Fall is my favorite season of the year. The changing leaves bring with it an undeniable sense of calm and pause, nature's way of telling us to slow down. This Fall is ever more special because one of my favorite humans in the world, my brother, said “I do” to his best friend of over ten years, uniting two hearts, two families, and two cultures. My brother’s wedding, paired with the changing autumnal air, got me thinking about navigating love, not just romantic love, but the love that exists within friendships. His wife is his best friend. I wholeheartedly love all of the friends I have made across space, time, and geographic locations. From my childhood friends in Ghana, to the friends I made recently during my Fulbright fellowship in Uganda, I cherish the memories forever stamped in my mind and heart.
During my undergraduate career, my group of friends and I affectionately called ourselves Abule Musha (this translates to “village” in Shona and Yoruba). The members of Ablue Musha hailed from different corners of the globe: Haiti, Nigeria, Eritrea, Ghana, Tanzania, Kenya and Zimbabwe. In this space, we established a tight support network, motivating each other, and celebrating each other’s wins. My study abroad program took me to London where I met more vibrant people! My newfound friends and I hosted intimate dinners, with wine on tap, and music softly playing in the background, transforming the dining room into a capsule where the woes of the world couldn’t reach. With my primary love languages being quality time and acts of service, I go above and beyond to support my friends in actualizing their dreams and in full reciprocity, they do the same for me. As I moved through life, my connection with Abule Musha and my London friends have shifted. What was once the “village” has been watered down to a Facebook group with touch-and-go interactions. When I transit through London, I make it a point to stop and say hi but I don’t expect an exact replay of our past adventures. By the nature of life and of function of time, things are different. People are different. But it doesn’t change the love I have for them and for the times we shared. I love my friends. And I love even more my best friend.
Veronica* is my best friend of over a decade. We met during the shared struggles of AP US history class. Our high school teacher, Mr. Smith*, gave us daily quizzes that stretched our brains. Veronica and I bonded over a failed quiz, marking the beginning of our beautiful friendship. After school, we would meet up at a Chinese restaurant on 8th Avenue in Harlem, order french fries drowned in ketchup, and discuss everything our young minds could imagine. I marveled at how intelligent and tenacious Veronica was. She had a good sense of how her life would unfold, inspiring me to reflect on my own goals. Veronica and I blossomed into young women together, navigating new relationships, university, careers, international travels and all of life’s upsides and pitfalls. One of my favorite memories with Veronica happened in South Africa. Although we both had a difficult time conducting our research projects, grappling with racism in SA, and fitting into our programs as one of few black girls, there were moments of unbridled joy. Thanksgiving holiday was upon us so we went to an open market and bought a whole chicken, potatoes, plus other necessary ingredients. We spent hours in the kitchen laughing, pouring our souls into what was our first Thanksgiving away from our families. But we had each other. And in that moment, that was more than enough for me. What I cherished most about our friendship is how honest we are with each other. We lean into difficult conversations, loving each other fiercely and unconditionally. I thought the sanctity of our friendship was untouchable. Then, the pandemic hit.
To be fair, in the absence of a global pandemic, relationships are delicate and most aren’t built to last forever. Circumstances and priorities change. Friends move away from the shared experiences that once tethered them together. People get married (or divorced), have kids, move to new geographic locations, take on new interests, the list is never-ending. With this in mind, it is important to always be present in the moment and absorb the joyous atmosphere of being in the presence of and to be seen by someone you care about. I miss the ease of being able to enjoy impromptu outings with my close friends which has been replaced with me thinking through the logistics of safety and the risk of exposure. My friendship with Veronica has entered into uncharted territory. She told me she needs space. Although I want us to be there for each other during this dare I say unprecedented times, I don’t blame her. Everyone is dealing with this pandemic the best way they know how.
With social distancing and restrictions in place for the foreseeable future, friendships, and relationships in general, are crucial to survive the isolation. But why are friendships so hard to maintain now that we need it the most? There are many nuances in answering this question. Part of it is that people need to be able to communicate their emotions and ask for what they want. However, during traumatic situations (such as that of a global pandemic) words tend to escape us as our brains enter survival mode. It will take conscious effort to ensure you are checked in with yourself and communicating your needs. Another important aspect is that friends, unlike familial or romantic relationships, lack any formal structure. Going months without talking to your romantic partner is viewed differently than going months without talking to a friend. It’s also important to note that now is not the time to “test who your real friends are” because as I mentioned earlier, everyone is dealing with the pandemic differently and the mental health impact is real. I offer the answer of compassion. Have compassion for yourself and for your friends and understand that the shifting nature of how you relate to the people around you is a natural part of life and of friendships. Pandemic included. And above all remember, we are all trying our best.
*names have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals