I live in San Diego, California, far from the epicenter of the coronavirus, but my entire family is from―you guessed it―Wuhan. My parents taught me to always value my Chinese identity, to be proud of being Chinese, no matter what people thought.

In that week, changes came at a rapid pace. School was postponed: first for two weeks, then a month, and then indefinitely. All trips and activities were suspended. All of a sudden, Chinese New Year wasn’t even Chinese New Year anymore. No one was going out to eat, visiting relatives, or traveling. Each day, the first thing I did was check how many new cases had been reported. There was nothing we could do but sit in our homes and wait.