“Why are you wearing that?” “What’s wrong with her?” “Girl, show your pretty face.” “You ain’t gone get sick.” “What are you? Michael Jackson?” “Oooo she has ebola.”

We wont be getting sick!

Neither now nor ever is the best time in America to be walking around wearing a surgical mask. You see when you get a heart transplant, there is a high chance that your body will “reject” the heart. So in order to do that I take medications that suppress my immune system. By doing that, however, it makes me prone to other infections which is why whenever I go out in public for the next three months, I have to wear a surgical. It is embarrassing, but only a small price to pay in exchange for a fully functional heart —that I would like to keep functioning.

I am used to catcalls and unwanted attention having breasts in Bronx. I can’t walk anywhere without at least one homeless person commanding me to smile. Now that my smile is covered by a mask, people simply comment on the mask. Trying to ignore it is hard because it feels like personal attacks. People don’t just give me weird looks, they stare, and they stare long and hard. Brows furrowed, eyes squinted, their faces just read “perplexed.” Yesterday, I flipped off two ten year old boys who stared me down for a whole block and waited for me to pass to make some comment about ebola. Like do you have zero manners? Not that flipping off children is exactly polite, but someone needed to put those trifling hooligans in their poorly-parented place. They were kids though, so I get it. They weren’t even the worst.

Pictures rarely turn out decent when you have a stranger take them…

Tuesday night I was invited to a Refinery 29’s book launching party for their book Style Stalking, in which I was featured. I was apprehensive to go for a few reasons: 1) I just had a heart transplant like two weeks ago; 2)I had no one to go with; 3) If I went I would have to wear a surgical mask. All of my concerns had simple solutions. Having this surgery was supposed to give me my life back, which is exactly why I decided to suck it up and go out. I hadn’t been out in Manhattan in months and I couldn’t even remember the last time I had a reason to wear heels. So, I went! One of my best friends, Briana, accompanied me. And while I really didn’t want to wear the mask, I had no choice. Of course Briana showed up pulling a twin mask out of her beautiful Prada bag. I couldn’t let her subject herself to the, embarrassment. As good as a friend as she was to offer, I was trying to be just as good a friend and save her the judgement.

Being out at a rooftop party in Manhattan was amazing, but the stingy, judgey hipsters were killing my vibe. I could feel those same old stares. A grown man blatantly asked me “Why are you wearing that?” with a tone of judgement and fear as if I actually had ebola and dared put him at risk. He wasn’t trying to start up conversation, but rather make sure I wasn’t going to get him sick. Some people actually used it as a conversation starter and were amazed and congratulated me. Briana had to be my translator, because between the mask muffling my speech and my hoarse voice, I was virtually inaudible. Definitely being with my best friend softened the blow.I consumed my free hor d’oeuvres and ginger beer, and enjoyed the company of my bestie. I wasn’t actually embarrassed because people being rude only makes themselves look badly, and I am never going to see any of those people again.

The party itself was still fun and the venue was very swanky. We got to dress up and look fancy. Briana and I were dressed a little more Uptown than SoHo, but we still looked good. I had never been to an industry event quite like this before. Everyone else seemed pretty well seasoned at these types of things, but I felt more comfortable just sitting outside. I had fun!

It was still a beautiful night.

I mean those masks have more perks besides keeping me healthy. The also block out the stench of New York and keep in my bad breath. No complaints there! The mask is frustrating and I just want to wear a t-shirt that says “I don’t have ebola, just a heart transplant,” but I don’t owe anyone an explanation. I just need to keep on keeping on as the Brady Brunch would say, and keep on living my life as normally as possible —then again normal has never been any fun. Who knows? Maybe, I will single handedly make surgical masks a thing in America. Or not, and I can move to Japan where it is already an established trend.