What One Year of COVID as an International Student in the U.S. Has Been Like

Back in March 2020, I was an innocent, happy freshman. I felt I had finally adjusted to the campus culture and college life; I had a great friend group, I finally figured out where everything was, and classes were all right. But then, on a random day during spring break, while I was enjoying the warmth of my bed, the school sent an email saying that everything would be virtual from that point on.

Since then, I have not been able to return to my home in Beijing, but have relocated seven different times around campus — from a dorm room, to apartments, to hotels, then back to a dorm room. I speak with my parents weekly; at first, I was incessantly worried about their safety in China, and now they are more worried about me, in the Midwestern U.S.

To be clear, I’ve weathered this pandemic from a more privileged space than many. My college life protects me in many ways, but the past year of COVID has proven to me that my bubble also leaves me exposed to dangers in ways I never would have imagined.

First, I’ve had to deal with a newfound attention thrust upon me due to my Chinese heritage. I bent over backwards to change myself to accommodate others’ irrational, racist fears. I no longer introduce my background and I’ve grown silent when others talk about COVID. For a while, I felt ashamed of my identity. In hindsight, I lost sight of the value and importance of my own voice. I didn’t speak up for myself when I heard people talking about only Asians carrying the virus in the dining hall, I just walked away and distanced myself from certain groups of people. And when I got a cold, I was so desperate to clarify that it wasn’t COVID that I went to the school’s health center and the local hospital several times just to prove myself.

At the same time, I feel my education is suffering; I’m incredibly grateful to be at school, but it’s hard to recall much of what has been taught since COVID started. It’s hard to get excited about Zoom calls, and I have to force myself not to watch movies, TikTok, or YouTube during class. I recognize the effort my teachers are making to try and engage their students, and I’ll forever appreciate their commitment to making me better informed than I was yesterday about linear algebra and physics, but it’s challenging to focus with all the distractions and technical difficulties.

Then, there’s my mental health. Like everyone, everywhere, there have been times when I discovered new levels of anxiety. Some were self-induced, others were triggered by, well, life during a pandemic. There were times when I couldn’t sleep as I was trying to figure out the flight policies and my possibilities to go back home.

But, ultimately, I’ve learned a lot from these experiences. I’m determined to speak out if I experience another incident of racism. I’m getting better at recognizing the warning rumblings of angst building up inside me and learning to take better, more intentional care of my mental and physical well being. My small circle of close friends at school has been my lifeline, and I hope I have been a part of theirs. I’m incredibly grateful that none of my family, friends, or extended relationships have been debilitated or killed by COVID, and the fear that they might be makes me appreciate every day we are safe and healthy in a new way.

COVID has helped me gain a greater understanding of the difference between what I want and what I need. I’ve learned that I need to let my family and friends know I care about and value them, to invest time in my personal growth and health, and to share empathy and kindness within my bubble as well as with strangers in need. And to tip generously.

I want to sit in a classroom again (and even wear pants!). I want to be able to fly home whenever I want. Most of all, I want to hug people again.

Until then, I’m going to do my part to help us get there. I want to stay alert, and embrace both the challenges and opportunities my uncertain future holds.

But for now, it's morning in Beijing. I think I’ll go call my parents.