To the Compassionate Mask Police

I have just come from another difficult trip to Shop Rite. All the joy of going out has been terminated in favor of making life in public very bleak. I still believe in “my body, my choice.” I still believe that we are all adults and not schoolchildren subject to the whims of “authority.” I know that life is never one-size-fits-all. And I know that I live a very conscientious life, so to assume I am anything but motivated by love is offensive to me.

My aim here is to reach out and remind people of their manners. We are not enemies and we are not walking biological weapons.

It has been 49 weeks since “two weeks to flatten the curve,” remember that? And a year of isolation has made us strangers in our own land. Double for those of us who are morally opposed to mask mandates, but are forced to comply. If you have fear, you have no love.

I mention that last bit because I think those of you who would feel comfortable putting me onto a boxcar “for my health” believe you are good people who are doing the right thing. Compassionate people.  You are not.

I was accosted three separate times this morning at Shop Rite by over-zealous employees who chased me through the isles, grabbed my arm, and yelled at me to muzzle my nose. Get thee behind me, Satan. As the year drags on and I am forced to display agreement with the nullification of my rights, it was all I could do not to snap back at these erstwhile mask police.

You are not being compassionate, you are being a bully.

First of all, where are your manners?! My goodness, even another angry shopper yelled at me today to “obey!” And store employees, drunk on hall-monitor power, were equally as awful and rude. Is this who you want to be?

My father died four weeks ago, and because of people who bend a knee to politicians who grift off of fear, I could not hug him, be with him as he died, or kiss him goodbye. Way to go. Really compassionate.

I have medical reasons why the mask asphyxiates me. But you don’t care.

I have a very serious emotional reason why the mask makes me feel like I’m being raped every time I’m forced to comply. You cause me great trauma when you berate me in your store. Does that matter to you? No.

I have a conscientious objection to being compelled to wear anything.  Is my conscience equally as valid as yours? Not in your book.

I have also already had the ‘rona. I may have even gotten the vaccine. Do you understand science? No.

There is a 99.8% survival rate.

Again, if there is fear, there is no love. It is my hope that this letter reminds the reader that we are ALL in this together. Mind your manners.