Throat - A Silent Cry

0 ANTHROPOLOGY
Sociology Lens Pub Date : 2023-09-19 DOI:10.1111/johs.12433
Zenglin Yang
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He seemed to mirror us all in a way, as we were all grappling with the effects of the pandemic, along with the pressures of life.</p><p>Today, I take part in a strange ritual for the hundredth time – a swab test. This alien thing invading my throat has become an ordinary feeling. But living under the constant shadow of the pandemic is still a challenge. Every visit to the test site increases the sense of dread. There's an electric horn constantly reminding us to “line up, show your health and travel codes.” People move forward slowly, like a long line of cattle under the hot sun, waiting their turn to undergo this bleak ritual.</p><p>But this is the way to keep some sense of a normal life, to be a responsible citizen. Still, I can't help but ask: should we have to go through this invasive test three times a week, becoming part of a never-ending cycle of pandemic procedure? My roommate jokes that our throats have grown tough from the countless swabs scraping them.</p><p>In reality, I feel a new strength in my throat, a change brought on by these repeated invasions.</p><p>Now, I open my mouth wide, not to yell, but to stay quiet.</p><p>Waiting for my hundredth test, I realize: life in a pandemic is like enduring a swab test – the swab goes in, twists, and turns, making you want to gag, your eyes tear up, you feel sick. But you can't do anything, you can only watch in silence.</p><p>Ah, it's my turn now…</p><p>Reality has taken a surreal turn. Shanghai, the shining star of China's urban landscape, has been under the grip of an unseen enemy for a month. The city that never sleeps is now unable to provide even basic necessities like food. Many are succumbing to hunger. A rising number of suicides add to the grim reality, victims of desperation, untreated chronic illnesses, or perhaps, acts of defiance against the harsh COVID restrictions. They are casualties of the pandemic, but none officially die due to COVID.</p><p>I, too, am caught in another top-tier city, Shenzhen. I can only step outside after another PCR test. The city has been transformed into a fenced maze, cutting us off from one another, restricting our freedom. My friend and his girlfriend, who live just a street away, are now separated by these impassable barriers. Still, technology offers some relief. The Wi-Fi is strong, enabling video calls. And of course, it allows us to continue our work from home.</p><p>From behind these fences, I watch life go on. It has found a way to persist, just with a new rhythm. In 2022, Shenzhen's urban villages, vibrant hubs of life, housed about two-thirds of the city's population. Thirteen million people crammed into about 1700 settlements. The buildings are so close that you can shake hands with your neighbor through the window. 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Neon billboards light up the city, their bright lights reflecting off people's faces, illuminating every corner with a cold, impersonal light.</p><p>This artificial glow, like the invisible waves of Wi-Fi, touches every part of our lives (FIGURE 1, Video 1).</p><p>Slideshow is available on this webpage as well: https://www.zenglin.org/throat.</p>","PeriodicalId":101168,"journal":{"name":"Sociology Lens","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.0000,"publicationDate":"2023-09-19","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/epdf/10.1111/johs.12433","citationCount":"0","resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":null,"PeriodicalName":"Sociology Lens","FirstCategoryId":"1085","ListUrlMain":"https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/johs.12433","RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":null,"ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":null,"EPubDate":"","PubModel":"","JCR":"0","JCRName":"ANTHROPOLOGY","Score":null,"Total":0}
引用次数: 0

Abstract

Almost every city and every citizen in China had experienced lockdown at least once.

Today, I accidentally killed a mosquito. I don't usually hurt any creature, not even the tiniest. But this mosquito was so persistent that it pushed me to my limits. It kept buzzing around me for two whole hours as I tried to sleep. When it landed on my face, I couldn't hold back any longer.

I slapped it, it died, leaving a tiny mark on my hand.

On another day, I saw a pigeon tied up in front of a convenience store. It couldn't fly away, but it wasn't locked in a cage either. The bird just stood there, not even trying to break free. It made me wonder, has it ever attempted to escape?

I also saw a man, drunk by 9 pm. His head was low, as if weighed down by his problems. I guessed that the lockdowns must have played a part in his situation. He seemed to mirror us all in a way, as we were all grappling with the effects of the pandemic, along with the pressures of life.

Today, I take part in a strange ritual for the hundredth time – a swab test. This alien thing invading my throat has become an ordinary feeling. But living under the constant shadow of the pandemic is still a challenge. Every visit to the test site increases the sense of dread. There's an electric horn constantly reminding us to “line up, show your health and travel codes.” People move forward slowly, like a long line of cattle under the hot sun, waiting their turn to undergo this bleak ritual.

But this is the way to keep some sense of a normal life, to be a responsible citizen. Still, I can't help but ask: should we have to go through this invasive test three times a week, becoming part of a never-ending cycle of pandemic procedure? My roommate jokes that our throats have grown tough from the countless swabs scraping them.

In reality, I feel a new strength in my throat, a change brought on by these repeated invasions.

Now, I open my mouth wide, not to yell, but to stay quiet.

Waiting for my hundredth test, I realize: life in a pandemic is like enduring a swab test – the swab goes in, twists, and turns, making you want to gag, your eyes tear up, you feel sick. But you can't do anything, you can only watch in silence.

Ah, it's my turn now…

Reality has taken a surreal turn. Shanghai, the shining star of China's urban landscape, has been under the grip of an unseen enemy for a month. The city that never sleeps is now unable to provide even basic necessities like food. Many are succumbing to hunger. A rising number of suicides add to the grim reality, victims of desperation, untreated chronic illnesses, or perhaps, acts of defiance against the harsh COVID restrictions. They are casualties of the pandemic, but none officially die due to COVID.

I, too, am caught in another top-tier city, Shenzhen. I can only step outside after another PCR test. The city has been transformed into a fenced maze, cutting us off from one another, restricting our freedom. My friend and his girlfriend, who live just a street away, are now separated by these impassable barriers. Still, technology offers some relief. The Wi-Fi is strong, enabling video calls. And of course, it allows us to continue our work from home.

From behind these fences, I watch life go on. It has found a way to persist, just with a new rhythm. In 2022, Shenzhen's urban villages, vibrant hubs of life, housed about two-thirds of the city's population. Thirteen million people crammed into about 1700 settlements. The buildings are so close that you can shake hands with your neighbor through the window. Most residents are migrant workers, struggling to balance the demands of the lockdown and their unpaid wages. In contrast, local apartment owners living in million-pound homes find comfort in their golden cages, grateful to a government they believe is protecting them from the virus.

Despite everything, Shenzhen remains a symbol of modern socialism.

I admit, I've found an unsettling calm within me. It seems the pandemic has outlasted my resistance and now demands to co-exist. As the world spins on, China's lockdown brings back memories of the Qing Dynasty's self-isolation over two centuries ago. What's the point of this isolation now? Maybe it's a balance between a bit of medical logic and a lot of political maneuvering. But these thoughts border on conspiracy theories. We're supposed to trust and support our star-shaped emblem without question.

A vague yet persistent sense of being watched has started to color my days. My location is always reflected in my travel code, and my life is divided into exact chunks of time - 24, 48, 72 hours. It's a strange new world where nothing lasts more than 72 hours.1 And if you look up, it feels like something is always watching you. Neon billboards light up the city, their bright lights reflecting off people's faces, illuminating every corner with a cold, impersonal light.

This artificial glow, like the invisible waves of Wi-Fi, touches every part of our lives (FIGURE 1, Video 1).

Slideshow is available on this webpage as well: https://www.zenglin.org/throat.

Abstract Image

喉咙 - 无声的呐喊
今天,我不小心打死了一只蚊子。我通常不会伤害任何生物,哪怕是最微小的。但这只蚊子是如此顽强,以至于把我逼到了极限。它在我周围嗡嗡叫了整整两个小时,而我正试图入睡。当它落在我脸上时,我再也忍不住了,我拍了它一下,它死了,在我手上留下了一个小小的印记。它不能飞走,但也没有被关在笼子里。那只鸽子只是站在那里,甚至没有试图挣脱。这让我不禁想,它有没有试图逃跑过?我还看到一个男人,晚上 9 点多已经喝醉了。他低着头,似乎被自己的问题压得喘不过气来。我猜想,他的处境一定与封锁有关。在某种程度上,他似乎是我们所有人的写照,因为我们都在努力应对大流行病的影响以及生活的压力。今天,我第 100 次参加了一个奇怪的仪式--咽拭子测试。这个侵入我喉咙的异物已经成为一种普通的感觉。但生活在大流行病的持续阴影下仍然是一个挑战。每次去检测点都会增加恐惧感。电喇叭不断提醒我们 "排好队,出示健康证和通行证"。人们缓缓前行,就像烈日下长长的牛队,等待着轮到自己接受这种凄凉的仪式。尽管如此,我还是不禁要问:我们是否应该每周三次接受这种侵入性检查,成为永无休止的大流行病循环程序的一部分?我的室友开玩笑说,我们的喉咙因为无数次被棉签刮擦而变得越来越坚硬。实际上,我感觉到喉咙里有一种新的力量,这是反复入侵带来的变化。现在,我张大嘴巴,不是为了大喊大叫,而是为了保持安静。在等待第 100 次测试时,我意识到:大流行病中的生活就像忍受棉签测试一样--棉签进入、扭曲、转动,让你想咽口水,眼睛流泪,感觉不舒服。但你什么也做不了,只能默默地看着。啊,现在轮到我了......现实发生了超现实的转变。上海,中国城市版图上最闪亮的明星,已经被看不见的敌人控制了一个月。这座不夜城现在甚至无法提供食物等基本必需品。许多人正在向饥饿屈服。越来越多的自杀者加剧了这一严峻的现实,他们是绝望、慢性疾病得不到治疗的受害者,也可能是对 COVID 苛刻限制的反抗。他们是疫情的牺牲品,但没有人正式死于 COVID。我也被困在另一个一线城市深圳。我也被困在另一个一线城市--深圳,只能在再次进行 PCR 检测后才能走出家门。这座城市已经变成了一个围栏迷宫,将我们彼此隔开,限制了我们的自由。我的朋友和他的女朋友住在一街之隔,现在却被这些无法逾越的障碍分隔开来。不过,技术还是给了我们一些安慰。无线网络很强大,可以进行视频通话。当然,我们也可以在家继续工作。它找到了一种坚持下去的方式,只是换了一种节奏。2022 年,深圳的城中村是充满活力的生活中心,容纳了全市约三分之二的人口。1,300 万人挤在约 1,700 个居民点里。楼房挨得很近,隔着窗户就能与邻居握手。大多数居民都是外来务工人员,他们努力平衡着封锁的要求和被拖欠的工资。与此形成鲜明对比的是,住在百万英镑豪宅中的当地公寓业主在他们的金笼子里找到了慰藉,他们对政府心存感激,认为政府保护了他们免受病毒的侵袭。我承认,我发现自己内心有一种令人不安的平静,似乎大流行病已经超过了我的抵抗力,现在要求共存。随着世界的发展,中国的封锁唤起了人们对两个多世纪前清王朝自我封闭的回忆。现在这种封闭的意义何在?也许这是医学逻辑和政治手段之间的平衡。但这些想法近乎阴谋论。我们应该毫无疑问地信任和支持我们的星形标志。我的位置总是反映在我的旅行代码中,我的生活被精确地划分为24、48、72小时。这是一个陌生的新世界,在这里,没有什么能持续超过 72 小时1 。霓虹灯广告牌照亮了整个城市,明亮的灯光从人们的脸上反射出来,用冰冷而不近人情的光照亮了每个角落。 霓虹灯广告牌照亮了这座城市,他们明亮的灯光反射在人们的脸上,用一种冰冷的、没有人情味的光照亮了每一个角落。这种人造光,就像Wi-Fi的隐形波一样,触及我们生活的方方面面(图1,视频1)。这是喉咙的图形表示,是无休止的PCR测试和无声哭泣的体现。MP4视频展示了该系列的20幅图像,捕捉了零冠政策下社会氛围的各个方面。要查看这篇文章的全文HTML版本,请访问https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/johs.12433。幻灯片也可以在这个网页上找到:https://www.zenglin.org/throat。我衷心感谢我的朋友们——jasper, Yu, Bao, Chenyang,邢瑞,Zhen和liu,感谢他们在一年的拍摄过程中坚定不移的支持。我衷心感谢我的导师Michael Stewart教授和Richard Alwyn先生,他们一直鼓励我更深入地探索文本与图像之间错综复杂的关系。我也要感谢我在TRACT Memory Project中的同事和导师,他们富有洞察力的批评和宝贵的建议极大地丰富了我的工作。特别感谢克雷格·坎贝尔博士,他不仅帮助我找到了可能的平台,而且在研讨会结束后提供了明智的建议,并保持了开放的沟通渠道。我也要感谢Yoke-Sum Wong博士,感谢她在审查过程中耐心的指导和周到的建议。最后但并非最不重要的是,我非常感谢罗兰一直以来对我的支持和鼓励。在这个项目中有你们在我身边是我的荣幸,对此我深表感激。数据共享不适用于本文,因为本研究没有创建或分析新的数据。
本文章由计算机程序翻译,如有差异,请以英文原文为准。
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