A few weeks ago, an American expat living in London named Caroline Giovannucci noticed a new trend on her Instagram feed: vaccine selfies. She loves seeing her friends from back home in Boston getting their shots or showing off their inoculation cards. But Giovannucci can’t relate yet.
As a 25 year-old living in a city that’s vaccinating older and more vulnerable people first, Giovannucci has yet to receive her shot. She says she wants to “celebrate” those who have done their part to stop the spread, but she still feels a sliver of envy, too.
“I know that not every disability or risk factor is visible, but I’m human and I get jealous,” Giovannucci told The Daily Beast. She’s also been in a strict lockdown since December: no gatherings, no eating out, no shopping other than an essential grocery run. It’s a very different reality from Americans, who at the very least can go to an outdoor lunch.
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“Watching some people back in the US who are carrying on life as almost normal—but some with masks on—spurs some jealousy to be quite honest,” Giovannucci added. “Admittedly, that jealousy gets worse when watching those get the vaccine [also] get a little peace of mind I wish I was able to have.”
And then there are those who Giovannucci watched flaunt restrictions all year, only to flock to their vaccine site as soon as they could. “It’s sort of a slap in the face to us who have been doing what we can to curb the virus, [yet] are still not able to receive the vaccine and begin to return to a normal world,” Giovannucci said. “Every vaccine given is a step towards a safer population and a strong herd immunity, [but] it doesn’t take away the sting when you’ve sacrificed a lot and are watching those who’ve posted that they haven’t… then post their vaccine cards.”
Giovannucci has her ways of coping—she tries to remind herself that she’s stayed healthy during the pandemic, something she feels endlessly grateful for. Oh, and she also “eats cartons of gelato” when the FOMO gets too much.
Access to the vaccine continues to grow. This week, New York announced that people over the age of 30 are now eligible for their jab, and those over 16 will be on April 6.
It feels like the shot is everywhere—except, perhaps, in the arms of those still waiting to receive theirs.
When the vaccine became available to the public in January, the most vulnerable were prioritized. That didn’t mean other, more privileged people missed out.
Members of Congress lined up to get their shot, including those who had lobbied against social distance guidelines and mask-wearing during the darkest days of the pandemic. Influencers like a SoulCycle instructor Stacey Griffith posted their appointments, supposedly to promote trust in the vaccine.
But when do these social media PSAs become merely bragging? Even as the shot becomes more ubiquitous by the day, it remains something of a status symbol. Like a fat diamond engagement ring or a porous, homemade sourdough loaf, this safety precaution can be a virtual flex.
And so the New York Times reported on “faux-morbidities,” or “a mild circulatory or mental ailment [meant] to justify an early shot.” It’s enough to induce another trend: “vaccine FOMO.”
Patrick J. McGinnis, an investor who coined the term “fear of missing out,” wrote for Insider this week that “vaccine FOMO might just end the pandemic.”
“Getting a vaccine, it seems, is not all that different from lining up outside a Supreme store for the latest merch drop,” McGinnis wrote. “With limited supplies, game-like elements, and a rich social media payoff, the herd itself—and the social proof it generates—becomes a powerful marketing channel for the virtues of the product. Plus, who needs a new sweatshirt when 2021’s most coveted accessory is the simple, yet chic, COVID-19 Vaccination Card.”
All of the people who spoke to The Daily Beast about how they feel watching others get the shot agreed on one simple fact: the more vaccines, the better.
They also noted that many pre-existing conditions are invisible, and it’s rude to interrogate an Instagram acquaintance on why they might be eligible. None of the interviewees stay up late at night fuming over those who jumped at the chance to get “back to normal.” They just want to join the club, too.
Jill Barlow, a 24-year-old policy analyst who works for the government of Ontario, Canada, will become eligible for her vaccine in July. She is able to work from home and has no co-morbidities. (Right now, Ontario is only vaccinating health care workers, people over 70, those with pre-existing conditions, and priority groups like Indigenous people.) She only knows about five friends who’ve gotten the jab. So her envy is reserved for a different group.
“I’m jealous of Americans who are working from home or not high-risk and are getting shots now,” Barlow said. “I know America has a whole different culture than here, but it’s pretty upsetting to see so many parties and anti-maskers throughout the pandemic south of the border getting their vaccines before us. I can’t blame them though, I’ll take it any chance I get.”
Alex, a graphic designer living in Philadelphia who asked that her last name be withheld, first noticed a friend who works as a nurse get his vaccine early on in the process.
“He documented getting both shots, hoping to make people less afraid,” Alex, who is 25, said. “After that, the people I saw posting the most about getting the shot were non-essential [workers].”
It all makes Alex feel “an emotion somewhere between anger and sadness.” When she finally gets her vaccine, she probably will not announce it. “I think it’s good to talk about getting the vaccine because it encourages others to get it, but everyone around me is pretty open to it. The vaccine feels less like ‘clout’ to me and more like a civic duty.”
The pandemic hit close to home—Alex’s sister is a nurse in a COVID ICU, so when she saw people traveling when they should have been staying at home, she “took it personally.”
“These people turned around and ended up being some of the first people I saw get the vaccine,” Alex added. “While I think everyone deserves the chance to be vaccinated, it really does bring an element of morality into it. There are majorly at-risk communities who are unable to get an appointment for the vaccine, while people who treated the pandemic like a vacation are completely vaxxed.”
And then, probably, off to another vacation.
