Kristin Urquiza writes:

On Tuesday night, I sat in masked silence in the front row of the debate hall in Cleveland as President Trump mocked former vice president Joe Biden for wearing a mask. Earlier in the evening, I watched as Trump’s family and Republican insiders defiantly removed their masks, in violation of the clear guidelines set by the Cleveland Clinic, while most of the other audience members remained masked. We didn’t know it then, but at that moment, Trump and his entourage were potentially exposing us to the coronavirus, along with every other person present at the debate: members of Congress, Secret Service agents, campaign guests, members of the media, workers and janitors alike.

When I learned, along with the rest of the world, that the president had been diagnosed with the coronavirus, I felt betrayed and terrified. Already back at home, I scrambled to put together a plan to get tested, notify anyone I’d been in contact with and self-quarantine. A vision of my father, intubated, flashed in front of me, along with visions of so many others who have been lost because of this entirely preventable pandemic, and whose families told me their stories: Isabelle Papadimitriou, Juan Carlos “Charlie” Rangel, Gaye Griffin-Snyder, Jose Reyes, Mary Castro, Charles Krebbs.

I tried to process what had happened: The president of the United States may have exposed me and everyone in that debate hall to the coronavirus. [Continue reading…]