Let’s face it: Most of us don’t like wearing masks. Yes, we appreciate the protection they provide, but after almost a year into the pandemic, we’re tired of battling maskne and struggling to hear what someone is mumbling behind three layers of cotton. However, as the coronavirus rages on, medical experts agree that we must continue to remain diligent in our mask-wearing for awhile longer.
Since last March, the simple act of covering one’s face has been a source of confusion and controversy. Very early on, medical experts told us masks didn’t really work. Then they said they did and that we should all wear them. They asked us to donate our most effective masks to frontline workers. Later, as coronavirus variants began to spread, they advised us to go ahead and wear those N95s and/or double mask. Some cities require masks to be worn in stores, while others do not. Some require them outside; some don’t. On top of that, masks have become so politicized that, depending on your personal beliefs, you may view them as your civic duty or a mark of oppression.
My city of San Francisco has been one of the strictest places when it comes to a mask mandate, and most residents have been exemplary about respecting it. Both California and the city of San Francisco have had, for at least eight months, explicit rules requiring that people wear masks in public anytime they come within six feet of others. On its Covid-19 website, the city specifically dictates that “you must have a face covering on when you pass someone while walking or running outside.” Nearby Marin County, which has similar regulations, is issuing fines for noncompliance.
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But I’ve also encountered my fair share of people not wearing masks in public near others, even here. Maybe they’re exhausted — after all, we were the first U.S. city to go into shelter-in-place orders last March — or perhaps they’re confused or frustrated by evolving CDC guidelines. Or maybe they don’t care. Their behavior leaves the rest of us struggling to understand why some feel entitled to disregard the rules and put others at risk.
I decided to walk around the city and engage with non-mask wearers. I wanted to know what these rogue San Franciscans would do if I politely asked them to put on a mask. Would they apologize and quickly cover up? Would they tell me off or run away? I walked around the city motivated not by a desire to shame people, but by a curiosity to find out just how emotionally charged this issue has become. The human response to being told what to do during this pandemic has become so heated — and I’m sorry to say that the responses I got only prove this. I got a lot of dirty looks, a lot of middle fingers, a lot of “fuck yous.”
First, I set ground rules: I would only ask someone who came within six feet of me without a face covering — in other words, neither wearing a mask nor socially distancing (both city requirements). I wouldn’t bother anyone who looked unhoused or mentally unstable, nor would I approach older people or those with obvious medical conditions. I understood that some people may have health issues that prevent mask-wearing, which is why I didn’t ask anyone unless they lingered very close to me.
What I discovered from this experiment is that people sure as hell don’t like being told what to do. Their reactions ranged from disdain to downright rage, and it was disheartening to see the ire I could spark from such a simple request.
My first stop was the Lyon Street steps in Pacific Heights. It was a beautiful day, and the Broadway summit was crowded with people in the midst of stair-climbing drills; despite a large sign displaying the coronavirus regulations, at least five people had their masks down. As I descended the stairs, one guy came up behind me, breathing heavily onto my neck. As I stepped aside to let him pass, I asked him to please cover his face, but he simply brushed past me. I made the same request to a woman climbing up toward me, this time pointing to my own mask in case she couldn’t hear through her headphones. She shot me a nasty look.
During another walk with my husband, we were about to descend the narrow Baker Street steps, where one guy was doing drills. Seeing that his face was exposed, we waited at the top until he reached us, then followed about 20 feet behind him as he ran down again. When he reached the bottom, he looked up and saw us, but instead of putting on a mask or waiting for us to reach ground level, he ran up the steps alongside us, huffing and puffing just inches away. When we asked him to please put on his mask, he clenched his jaws and told us to fuck off.
I found that citywide, many runners don’t wear masks. I understand that exercising with a mask is difficult, which is why I go running after dark when few people are on the street. However, I always pull up my mask when I approach someone, a protocol that others don’t always follow. One sunny weekday, I encountered at least two dozen joggers — in the Marina, in Golden Gate Park, near Dolores Park, and elsewhere — moving within inches of me without masks. When asked politely to cover up, about half of them pretended not to hear me; the rest diverted their eyes or quickly turned a corner.
Was it possible that people were clinging to inconclusive research that suggests being outside in the fresh air poses less risk of viral transference? Most researchers have advised all along that we remain at least six feet apart from one another, even outdoors, to minimize the chance of transmission via respiratory particles, but maybe that message was getting lost in the sea of contradictory studies.
I wanted to give my neighbors the benefit of the doubt, but their fiery responses sometimes made it difficult. On a rainy afternoon on a street corner near the Clement Street corridor, a maskless middle-aged man in orange sneakers stood for several minutes about 10 inches away from me and two other pedestrians and responded to my request by snapping, “Are you talking to me? You better not be talking to me!” before stomping away.
I get how someone would hate being told what to do by some random person, especially during this emotionally fraught time, or how one could feel incapable of getting anyone sick while just venturing out for a stroll. However, although it’s unlikely that a brief outdoor interaction with someone maskless could spread the coronavirus, it is possible. And it shocked me how deeply defensive many people became when I reminded them to do something for the common good.
However, a few did attempt to explain. Like the man on Polk Street handing out flyers who shouted, “Fuck you, I’m working!” And a woman strolling with a friend on Geary Boulevard in the Outer Richmond who was laughing with her mouth wide open about three feet from me and shouted, “It’s okay. We’re outside! I’m a scientist!”
I’d say that more than half of the anti-maskers who came within six feet of me were men, but women walking in pairs or small groups were also frequent culprits. Among them were a couple of middle-aged ladies strolling near Dolores Park, a millennial duo at Crissy Field, a trio of high school girls on Valencia Street, and two moms with strollers in the Inner Sunset. Most of them disregarded me, but I got one “Really?” and a few mumbled curse words. No one apologized, or said “Sure,” or engaged in a remotely friendly interaction.
Anger continued to be the most common emotional response I provoked, especially during an unseasonably warm day in Golden Gate Park, where my request garnered a middle finger, several annoyed looks, and a you-gotta-be-kidding-me head shake. In the Mission, a man hanging out on a busy corner, simultaneously talking into his cellphone and eating, dismissed me by waving his hand in my direction. A guy sitting on a bench at the Palace of Fine Arts ignored me as he blew cigarette smoke into the path of those walking past him near the lagoon.
Although I had decided not to confront service workers, I made an exception with one man who emerged from his truck sans mask and proceeded to talk to an old woman on the sidewalk, just inches from her face. When I asked him to cover up, his mouth started to curl into an angry retort, but then he paused, took a deep breath, and said, “Sure, okay.” When I looked back, I saw that his face was still uncovered. That was the moment my heart sank, as I realized that out of all the 100 people I talked to, not a single one had actually paid me the respect of putting on a mask.
So, yes, I came out of this experiment a bit more disheartened with humanity. I’m sad that some of my neighbors are refusing to do everything they can to squash this virus or seem to have contempt for the rules that were designed to keep us all safe. However, I keep reminding myself that most of us have been wearing masks, socially distancing, washing our hands, and taking other community-minded precautions for the past year. Our collective diligence, at least here in San Francisco, keeps me grounded and optimistic.
For those who dread wearing a mask for the next several months or beyond, consider this: Vaccinations are rolling out, the end is closer in sight, and if we work together we can get through this ordeal. So, for the last time — and I say this with as much love and respect as I can muster — please put on your damn mask.
Gov. Gavin Newsom’s pinned tweet about the mask mandate.
