My mother is a character—an unconventional spirit who insists she’ll try ‘shrooms before she reaches the end of her road. She’ll turn 94 next August.
She’s a multifaceted individual: a dedicated reader, a terrible cook, a delightful instigator, and a woman who exclaims, when witnessing Congress in action, “Where are all the women?!?” Full of sass and stubbornness, she is incredibly generous, often welcoming her grandchildren’s friends who find themselves in need of a place to stay. She’s our guiding light, the standard by which our family measures itself.
Yet, she is also an anti-vaxxer.
This perplexes me. While I consider myself quite progressive, beside her, I seem more aligned with Jim Jordan than Bernie Sanders. She passionately advocates for universal healthcare and student loan forgiveness and believes the government should keep its “damn hands” off women’s bodies. She ardently champions social equality, supporting BLM, the LGBTQIA+ community, and many other causes I’ve likely never even heard of. When Kathy Griffin famously severed Trump’s head in a comedic sketch, I recall her muttering, “Well, somebody’s gotta do it.” Keep in mind she is 93.
But when it comes to vaccines, she and I fundamentally disagree. Before the vaccine rollout, she listened intently as I spoke highly of Dr. Fauci, even playfully commenting on his charm. We shared laughs watching him spar with Rand Paul, and she gifted me a Fauci tote bag. However, once the vaccines were introduced, her stance shifted dramatically. Although I knew she was skeptical about vaccines (she claims to have never had one), I didn’t fully grasp the extent of her opposition until I visited her last weekend. When I made a sarcastic remark about using horse dewormer, she retorted, “How stupid does someone have to be to get a Covid vaccine?” Then she inquired whether I had received mine. When I confirmed that I had, she insisted I wear a mask—“or you’ll get me sick.”
That’s when the flood of emailed articles and videos began. I barely skimmed the titles, which claimed that vaccines make people magnetic and contain microchips from “Big Brother.” One Canadian viral immunologist purportedly discovered that vaccines produce “toxins” that can travel to the brain. It’s supposedly common knowledge that vaccines lead to autism and that anyone who opts for vaccination is altering their DNA. I told her I’d willingly accept all the alleged side effects instead of facing a harrowing Covid death. Her response? “Well, I guess that’s your choice.”
When I presented her with statistics, her reaction was astounding: “They’re just trying to divide us.” I didn’t even ask who “they” were; it was clear her response echoed the “fake news” rhetoric we had both criticized since 2016.
Lately, my mother seems more like Marjorie Taylor Greene than the unapologetic radical thinker she was pre-pandemic. She’s dangerously close to espousing conspiracy theories about lizard people and blaming the Clintons for JFK, Jr.’s death. This creates a significant dilemma for me.
Anti-vaxxers remind me of those who, during a natural disaster, refuse to evacuate. I’m not talking about those who are genuinely unable to leave; I mean the obstinate ones who think, “I’ve weathered worse than this, and I won’t be forced out.” I don’t view them as brave; I see them as selfish. Sometimes their stubbornness doesn’t affect others. But other times, emergency responders must risk their lives to save these individuals, who, once defiant, find themselves desperate and in danger.
When I hear about another regretful anti-vaxxer, I do feel compassion, but my immediate thought is: “You’re taking someone else’s bed. You’re occupying someone’s ventilator. You’re overburdening these healthcare workers—and you didn’t even consider them before, did you? Now you think you can just take it all back?”
But how do I reconcile these feelings with the reality of having an unvaccinated mother—an influential matriarch who is actively promoting anti-vax sentiments and has influenced at least nine other family members to follow suit? I am genuinely concerned for her health, especially since she refers to her home as a “mask-free” zone. I struggle with the urge to dismiss her as just another anti-vaxxer. I feel guilty for categorizing her alongside others, but she is still complicit.
I want to echo her words: “Well, I guess that’s your choice.” However, in this moment, when our country has already lost over 600,000 lives and is now endangering our children, it’s about more than individual choices. It’s about collective unity to stop the spread of this pandemic.
Regrettably, I don’t see her changing her mind anytime soon. I’ve never viewed my mother in this light before, but now I can’t help wishing she would consider others over her own beliefs.
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Summary
The author struggles with their mother’s anti-vaccine stance, which conflicts with her progressive values. While she admires her mother’s advocacy for social issues, her refusal to vaccinate creates tension and fear for the author’s family’s health. The piece explores the complexities of familial love amid differing beliefs and the broader implications of individual choices during a pandemic.