Through audio diaries and interviews, former SSRC fellow Sienna Craig and her collaborators chronicled the experiences of Himalayan New Yorkers during the pandemic. Many Himalayans live in central Queens, the epicenter of the Covid-19 outbreak in New York City. This essay shares the many challenges faced by the Himalayan community, not least their struggle to be seen as a “community” with its own needs. But it also emphasizes the responses of Himalayans in terms of collective self-help and making claims on city government for attention and essential services

Daniel Kaufman

Mark Turin

Maya Daurio

Nawang Tsering Gurung

Ross Perlin

Sienna R. Craig

Through audio diaries and interviews, former SSRC fellow Sienna Craig and her collaborators chronicled the experiences of Himalayan New Yorkers during the pandemic. Many Himalayans live in central Queens, the epicenter of the Covid-19 outbreak in New York City. This essay shares the many challenges faced by the Himalayan community, not least their struggle to be seen as a “community” with its own needs. But it also emphasizes the responses of Himalayans in terms of collective self-help and making claims on city government for attention and essential services.

https://items.ssrc.org/covid-19-and-the-social-sciences/covid-19-fieldnotes/negotiating-invisibility-at-the-epicenter-himalayan-new-yorkers-confront-covid-19

Craig, Sienna R.

Perlin, Ross

Gurung, Nawang Tsering

Daurio, Maya

Kaufman, Daniel

Turin, Mark

NEUROSURGERY ENTHUSIASTIC WOMEN SOCIETY

Negotiating Invisibility at the Epicenter: Himalayan New Yorkers Confront Covid-19

Humanities Commons

1/10Negotiating Invisibility at the Epicenter: Himalayan NewYorkers Confront Covid-19items.ssrc.org/covid-19-and-the-social-sciences/covid-19-fieldnotes/negotiating-invisibility-at-the-epicenter-himalayan-new-yorkers-confront-covid-19They mostly suffered—in some cases, died—at home. Many, as a result, were never testedand will never be included in any official statistics. Those who were accounted for might begrouped as “Asian/Pacific-Islanders,” a Census-derived category far removed from their livedexperience, comprised mostly of people from very different backgrounds who far outnumberthem. Even within their own community, many chose not to tell others beyond immediatefamily about their diagnosis, fearing stigma.At the beginning of late March 2020, New York City became the global epicenter of theCovid-19 pandemic, averaging over 5,000 cases per day. By early April, approximately 500New Yorkers were dying daily. All nonessential businesses were shut down, and hundreds ofthousands of New Yorkers were out of work. No neighborhood was more impacted thanthose of central Queens, including Corona, Elmhurst, and Jackson Heights, which are hometo many immigrant communities and are among the most linguistically diverse areas onEarth.“Himalayan New Yorkers—clustered in these neighborhoods, enduring overcrowdedhousing, and working frontline professions—were suddenly at “the epicenter of theepicenter,” even if they remained largely invisible to outsiders.”Himalayan New Yorkers—clustered in these neighborhoods, enduring overcrowded housing,and working frontline professions—were suddenly at “the epicenter of the epicenter,” even ifthey remained largely invisible to outsiders. In the face of this health, humanitarian, andsocioeconomic crisis, community members strategically engaged with governmentalsystems, claiming visibility as possible, while rapidly developing a response of their own.Even as the pandemic highlighted stark inequalities and the need for a coordinated officialresponse, which came too late for too many, Himalayan New Yorkers harnessed remarkablelevels of solidarity and creative self-organization to make it through themselves—and toassist other New Yorkers.“The message is not spread”2/10In the last few decades, driven by political repression, climate change, educationalaspirations, and economic factors, as many as 50,000 people speaking at least 40 differentlanguage varieties have left Tibetan parts of China, Nepal, India, and Bhutan for New York,forming a major new node in an emergent global diaspora of Himalayan peoples.To document the development of this new community, our partnership team began a videostorytelling project, Voices of the Himalaya, in 2016, that recorded oral history interviews in adozen languages. Subsequent projects have included Songs and Singers of the Himalaya,on vocal traditions transplanted to and now evolving in New York, as well as an ongoingproject to document the endangered Seke language, which is spoken in five villages of Nepaland a handful of “vertical villages”—whole communities nested within apartment buildings inNew York City. At the same time, with support from the Peter Wall Institute for AdvancedStudies at the University of British Columbia, the team has launched a new digital languagemap of New York, providing information on speakers of some 500 language varieties,including dozens of Himalayan ones, which are invisible in Census and other available publicdata.“As the potential impact of Covid-19 on New York’s Himalayan community became clear,qualitative data collection in community languages became a focus for our collaborativeresearch.”As the potential impact of Covid-19 on New York’s Himalayan community became clear,qualitative data collection in community languages became a focus for our collaborativeresearch. Our team began commissioning daily ten-minute audio-diaries, which participants,to whom we provided honoraria for their time, could safely and easily record at home on theirphones, at moments of pause or convenience in their lockdown lives. From April through theend of June 2020—the peak period of the first major wave in New York—these 10 diaristsfrom different communities and walks of life recorded over 400 entries in seven differentlanguages, all made public via SoundCloud. Across May and June, project coordinatorNawang Gurung conducted 28 in-depth interviews with a wide range of leaders and activistson the front lines of the community’s response.Both the diaries and the interviews reveal a community tested by crisis. Few expected thevirus to spread widely in the United States. Reliable information in languages other thanEnglish, and to a certain extent Spanish, was almost nonexistent at the outset, though therewere subsequent attempts, at least in New York City, to translate some basic materials ineight other major languages that are covered by law: Arabic, French, Bengali, Haitian Creole,Korean, Urdu, Yiddish, and Polish.1 On the other hand, there was no lack of misinformationtransmitted via WhatsApp and WeChat, a popular social network from China also popularamong many Himalayan people. “There was no concrete information in the Tibetancommunity in Tibetan in March, and I know it wasn’t there in April,” said Yangchen Dolma, anactivist with Adhikaar, one of the Queens-based community organizations that scrambled tofill the gap.3/10Those who shared and those who didn’tCompounding the lack of official messaging in the community’s languages, many of thoseaffected were at least initially reluctant to share their own experiences. “Instead of gettinghelp,” said Dolma, referring to a sense of stigma, “a lot of people held back and sufferedalone, or didn’t get the full help that they should have gotten.” This stigma emerged fromseveral sources, at once cultural, linguistic, and political. The challenge of accessing reliableinformation in relevant languages about transmission and personal protection against Covid-19 was compounded by the rise in anti-Asian racism surrounding the novel coronavirus,including in New York. Many Himalayan peoples may be presumed to be “Chinese” based ontheir physical appearance and often work for other Asian Americans as well as South andEast Asian immigrant-run businesses; some feared for their jobs, others for their safety. Athird layer of stigma was more internal—cultural and familial. Some Himalayan peoplemaintain a strong sensibility that overtly naming illness has the potential to increase anindividual’s vulnerability to that illness or invite a negative outcome; so, while people may becared for, this care is offered quietly, within a very small circle. In other instances, people arereluctant to worry other family members—particularly those living far away—and so do notfeel comfortable admitting to sickness until they are on a certain road to recovery. ChhemangLama, a member of the Tamang community active in aid efforts, agreed: “I found two kinds ofpeople: Those who shared with the community and got more help, and the others [whodidn’t].”4/10Himalayan hospital patient. Photo by Nawang Tsering Gurung.The urgency, unfamiliarity, and attendant economic crises that emerged from the pandemicchallenged all of this. When those who had contracted Covid-19 began telling their ownstories in the tight-knit world of Himalayan social media, the effect was galvanizing. “Whenpeople share their experiences, challenges, symptoms and process of recovery,” said Lama,“that helps many in the community face it and tackle it with positive thoughts when they areaffected.” The widely reported death of Anil Subba, an Uber driver in Queens originally froman ethnic Limbu area of eastern Nepal, and the social media posts of well-known Tamangvideographer Shambhu Moktan (“The world is in trouble, we are in trouble, and I AM INTROUBLE”) led others to open up publicly, though often only after the worst was over.Nurses like Lhakpa Dolma Sherpa, one of the project diarists, began to do the same. AskaSherpa is another nurse who had just recovered when she spontaneously shared the newswith Facebook friends: “I got a lot of positive responses… I am glad that I decided to share itat that moment.”The silence of many, however, along with the inadequacy of the city’s statistics, means thataccurate morbidity and mortality numbers for this and other communities at the epicentermay never be available. “If we are to count, it is impossible,” said Pema Dorjee, president of5/10the Tibetan Nurses Association (TNA), which includes over 200 members of theapproximately 500 Himalayan healthcare workers in the tristate area. “The infection rate ishigh, but most… don’t show severe symptoms and don’t have to visit the hospital.”“No one went to the hospital until and unless there was a shortage of breath,” according toDolkar Lhamo, an out-of-work bartender who threw herself into relief efforts. “Many of ourpeople feared going to the hospital, because they were worried about getting worse due tomany infected patients.” In this, they were also following the official guidance to ride thingsout at home if possible, though for some this had tragic consequences.Some may have feared going to the hospital for reasons other than contagion. Aska Sherpa,the nurse, reported one of the most harrowing incidents: an encounter with a Covid-19patient whose hands and feet were tied, apparently because the staff could not understandhis language and thought he was not in his right mind. “As soon as I went there, he spoke inNepali,” said Sherpa. “He didn’t know much English, so he wasn’t able to communicate withthe nurses and doctors there”—and he had been unable to hear a phone interpreter.“So, I was able to go in, ask them to de-escalate, and open up his hands and legs,” saidSherpa. The man was fine and ultimately recovered from Covid-19, but it turned out he hadno family in the United States and had become homeless due to the pandemic. “He hadcome here taking loans,” Sherpa added. “The reason he panicked in the hospital was that hethought that they would send him back to Nepal. So that fear was what made him try to leavethe hospital.” Since this is not allowed, it led to the man, ill, anguished, and misunderstood,being restrained.6/10Offices of the Karmapa Service Society USA in Queens, New York. Photo by Ross Perlin.“Help from all directions”If such cases were rare, at least among Himalayan New Yorkers, it’s because “on everyblock in New York City we have our own organizations,” joked Chhemang Lama of theTamang Society of America. “During this kind of pandemic, people also realized theimportance of and need for their own organizations.” Besides crosscutting groups like theTNA, the Himalayan Elders Project, and the Tibetan Community of New York and NewJersey (TCNY), there are dozens of samaj and kyidug, or hometown social serviceassociations, representing individual ethnolinguistic groups—even at the level of a singlevalley in northern Nepal, for instance, from which there are now 70 people in Queens. “Iknow how many members we have [in our community],” said Lama, “and you know howmany members you have in your own community,” so help can go directly to those who needit. Those with larger memberships, like the Sherpa Kyidug, provide services not just to theirmembers but to the whole Himalayan community, and sometimes beyond.From such organizations grew more ad-hoc, outward-facing efforts to meet the crisis. Quietefforts to organize the community and build power in recent years, including a first-ever“Himalayan Town Hall” held in Queens with city officials in 2016, likewise bore fruit. Whilesome Himalayan community organizations, had made efforts to be recognized ascommunities by city government in the past and gain support for cultural and educational7/10programs, and while work of human, worker, and immigrant rights organizations, such asAdhikaar, were well established, this 2016 forum was a watershed moment in manyrespects, laying the foundation for more such efforts during the pandemic. Lama and ShyamKarki, another community activist, described efforts of a task force that united anintergenerational spectrum of Nepali New Yorkers with a mission “to get resources andfacilities from the state level and city level for our community.” What they describe is asuccessful form of claiming visibility that is new to many in the community: “We alsocontacted our senators, council members, local community leaders et cetera”—and thisbrought resources. At one point, the task force even contacted Maryland state senator HarryBhandari, the first state-level politician of Nepali origin, to negotiate for the release of thebodies of some deceased, which were being held by a hospital.Offices of the NY Tibetan Service Center. Photo by New York Tibetan Service Center.Before establishing a similar task force, the Tibetan Community of NY and NJ moved first tofill the linguistic and informational gap, collaborating with the TNA to create an informationhotline that served some 250 community members at the height of the first wave. Medicalprofessionals explained in several community languages information available virtuallynowhere else “about the disease, what it is, what happens, what to do, the kind of thingsneeded at home,” according to Dorjee of the TNA. The next step for the Himalayancommunity was to address rising mental health challenges, notably in collaboration with8/10practitioners of Tibetan medicine (sowa rigpa) and Tibetan Buddhism, and to deliver meals toseveral hundred people. At one point, hundreds of meals were also provided to non-Himalayan first responders.“Most of the hospitals in Queens have Tibetan medical staff nurses,” said Dorjee of TNA,with others scattered across a dozen hospitals, nursing homes, and rehab centers in theregion. “We spread the message around,” added Tenzin Bhakto, a founding member of theTNA. “In this way, if someone [in the Himalayan community] needs to visit the hospital, theycan at least stay a little calm because there is at least one Tibetan working in that hospital.”At a time when all visitors were barred, nurses looked out for fellow community members,keeping open a line of communication with family members, organizations, and a rotatinggroup of three monks who made themselves available to perform virtual prayers for and withpatients.Other organizations focused on the economic crisis, given how many community membersare recent (sometimes undocumented) immigrants without access to any official safety net.Even those eligible, whether for traditional Unemployment Insurance, the PandemicUnemployment Assistance program, or housing relief, faced formidable linguistic andbureaucratic hurdles. The New York Tibetan Service Center was one of several communityorganizations that stepped in. Already at the end of April 2020, Executive Director TseringDiki reported that the organization had helped around a thousand people file for relief,including via WeChat groups for the unemployed and for small business owners.9/10Members of a Himalayan support organization helping community members apply for unemploymentinsurance. Photo by New York Tibetan Service Center.Health, information, food, PPE, and housing—so that those quarantining would not infecttheir relatives, especially elders—were of course central to the community response. Butvirtual cultural and religious activities have also flourished. “I had never thought about thecomputer for prayers, but now people use such devices to pray together,” said LhakpaGurung, a pre-K teacher and community activist. Diarists and interviewees reportedextensive contact with relatives scattered around the globe, as well as intense participation in10/10the virtual dharma teachings that have proliferated over the past year. Hailed as a star byNPR, Tenzin Kalsang, a librarian at the Brooklyn Public Library, launched a bilingual Tibetan-English story time that has attracted tens of thousands of viewers around the world.Preserving visibilityWhether or not the presence and resilience of Himalayan New Yorkers at the pandemic’sepicenter will render them more visible to their neighbors and to city officials in the longerterm remains to be seen. This crisis may have inspired new levels of claims for visibility andsupport, yet older patterns of reticence, uncertainty, and even invisibility may reemerge asthe crisis recedes. It seems likely at least that community leaders will continue to combineexisting practices of community-based organizing and advocacy with a newer, outward-facing orientation as it confronts the next set of challenges posed by the pandemic and itsimpacts on translocal lives and livelihoods—families and communities that circulate betweenHimalayan villages and the “global village” of New York City.While the intensity of the pandemic recedes in the United States, Covid-19 is now hitting thegreater Himalayan region with grave intensity. The spring 2021 “second wave” across SouthAsia has re-emphasized the fact that health equity demands that we pay attention tolanguage and culture as they intersect with public health, particularly in marginalizedcommunities. It also means challenging the relative invisibility of countries like Nepal on theglobal stage: fighting against “vaccine apartheid,” arguing for the grassroots organizingcapacities of Himalayan communities to deliver vaccines, and tying such efforts back to theneed to address fundamental inequities in health services in New York, based on what wasexperienced, and what was learned, at the “epicenter of the epicenter” last spring.Acknowledgements This research was assisted by the Social Science Research Council’s Rapid-ResponseGrants on Covid-19 and the Social Sciences, with funds provided by the SSRC, the HenryLuce Foundation, the William and Flora Hewlett Foundation, the Wenner-Gren Foundation,and the MacArthur Foundation. In addition, the authors gratefully acknowledge support forthis research from the Peter Wall Institute Wall Solutions Grant (University of BritishColumbia), the Endangered Language Alliance, and Dartmouth College’s Office of theProvost SPARK Award, and the Claire Garber Goodman Fund, Department of Anthropology,Dartmouth College.Banner photo by Yeshi Jigme Gangne.References:1 The Coronavirus Language Access Act, introduced by Queens congresswoman Grace Mengto bring federal support for translation efforts, has languished.  

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Negotiating Invisibility at the Epicenter: Himalayan New Yorkers Confront Covid-19

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