House Television/AP

In this image from video, Rep. Jamie Raskin, D-Md., speaks as the House debates the objection to confirm the Electoral College vote from Pennsylvania, at the U.S. Capitol early Jan. 7, 2021.

On Jan. 6, one day after burying a son lost to suicide, Rep. Jamie Raskin told his family he had to go back to work. It was his constitutional duty. Congress was set to count each state’s Electoral College votes, showing a victory of 306-232 for Joe Biden.

But amid a devastating week, his family wanted to be together. So Mr. Raskin, a Maryland Democrat, brought his daughter and son-in-law with him to witness the peaceful transition of power. He assured them it would be safe. It’s the Capitol, he said.

There, Mr. Raskin gave a speech on the floor, his family members watching from the gallery above. He made an appeal for unity, referencing Abraham Lincoln’s Lyceum address, in which Lincoln warned of internal threats and decried the increasing prevalence of mob violence.

None of them realized that outside, Trump supporters had overrun police barricades around the Capitol and were scaling its walls. Over police radios had come the word: This is now effectively a riot.

By the time Mr. Raskin heard pounding on the door “like a battering ram,” it was too late to reach his daughter and son-in-law, who had left the gallery and were barricaded in an office.

When they were finally reunited, Mr. Raskin promised his 24-year-old daughter it would not be like this the next time she came to the Capitol. 

Dad, she said, I don’t want to come back to the Capitol.

“That one hit me the hardest,” said Mr. Raskin, the lead impeachment manager for the House, his voice quavering. “That, and watching someone use an American flagpole, the flag still on it, to spear and pummel one of our police officers.”

“Senators, this cannot be our future,” he concluded. “This cannot be the future of America.”

When the impeachment trial recessed, Sen. Tom Cotton of Arkansas, a staunch ally of President Donald Trump, came over to Mr. Raskin, talking with him and placing his hand on Mr. Raskin’s arm for several moments.

It was, perhaps, a rare moment of bipartisan support amid an impeachment trial that is deeply divided along partisan lines, but it underscores the deeply personal nature of the events at the center of it. Each lawmaker who was there that day has his or her own story, his or her own memories, many of which were brought back vividly by the rapid-fire succession of video clips shown this week. Although they themselves were witnesses, many – especially on the Senate side – were evacuated so quickly that they are only now realizing the full scope of the siege and how close the mob got to them.

For Democrats, the evidence overwhelmingly proves that Mr. Trump is guilty as charged of inciting an insurrection. “Until they walked us through, ‘Here’s what Trump is saying, here’s what he’s tweeting, here’s what the mob is doing outside, here’s what we’re doing inside the chamber’ and put it on the same timeline, I don’t think most of us really grasped that,” Sen. Chris Coons of Delaware told reporters. “How can you watch this and not vote to convict?”

Yet even as Republicans grapple with their own emotions provoked by the footage and their individual memories of the day, it appears unlikely to sway many on the matter of Mr. Trump’s culpability and the proper course of action.

“It was reliving a horrible day. A horrible day,” Sen. Rob Portman of Ohio told reporters, adding that it was especially hard for staffers who were not evacuated with senators and heard people banging on the doors of offices where they took shelter. “The emotions of the Jan. 6 attack were all brought back up again. But there’s still the legal questions that we have to struggle with ... [and] what is the best approach in terms of the Senate’s role jurisdictionally.”

All but six of the 50 GOP senators voted this week that it is unconstitutional to hold an impeachment trial for a president who has left office, since the punishment for impeachment is removal from office. (If there were a conviction, a subsequent vote could be held on whether to prohibit Mr. Trump from ever holding federal office again.) Democrats and constitutional lawyers, including some prominent conservatives, say that there is precedent for holding impeachment proceedings against a former official. They also point out that Mr. Trump was impeached before his term ended.

The House impeachment managers argued earlier this week that Mr. Trump engaged in a pattern of rhetoric throughout his presidency that encouraged dangerous views, including the unsubstantiated claim that the 2020 election was marred by widespread fraud. Despite his legal team failing to persuade courts across the country in dozens of election lawsuits and all 50 states certifying the results of their Electoral College votes, he still called on his supporters at a Jan. 6 Save America March to walk up Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol, saying, “If you don’t fight like hell, you’re not going to have a country anymore.”

On Friday, Day 4 of the trial, Mr. Trump’s defense team sought to characterize the former president’s remarks at that rally as within the bounds of passionate political speech, which they said should be protected for Democrats and Republicans alike. They presented video montages of Democrats, including some senators, using language like “fight like hell” in their speeches, raising the hackles of many who saw the presentation as creating a dangerous false equivalency. 

Mr. Trump’s lawyers also argued that the attack was premeditated, and pointed out that before the president had even finished his speech and called on his supporters to march to the Capitol – a half-hour walk away – the first wave of protesters had already overrun police barricades and the U.S. Capitol Police chief had already asked for a declaration of emergency and the deployment of National Guard troops. 

Outpouring of praise, gratitude for law enforcement

By the time the Senate was evacuated at 2:30 p.m., rioters had been in the building for 18 minutes. At 2:15, some had bounded up one of the main staircases just outside the Senate chamber, and near a room where Vice President Mike Pence was sheltering with his family.

Capitol Police Officer Eugene Goodman, in one of the most crucial decisions of the day, led them away from those doors toward a different entrance to the Senate, where more officers were waiting.

Brandon Bell/The New York Times/AP

Capitol Police Officer Eugene Goodman (right) and other officers, watch never-before-seen security footage of rioters storming the Capitol on Jan. 6, during the second day of former President Donald Trump's second impeachment trial, Feb. 10, 2021, in the Capitol in Washington.

Senators watched this week as security camera footage, never before shown publicly, revealed how the police officers formed a barricade with their bodies while senators were evacuated via a back door and rushed through a corridor not 60 paces away from where angry Trump supporters were amassing.

“You could feel the emotion return to the Senate floor in a way that ... definitely affected the majority of that body,” Sen. Cory Booker told reporters. The New Jersey Democrat brought M&M’s and other snacks to share with colleagues through the long days of arguments. 

Some senators were visibly upset during the airing of the video footage. And many highlighted those who faced far more challenging circumstances that day, especially law enforcement. 

“I just remember there was a police officer who was there by us, and she kept saying, ‘I want you to be careful, but I want you to hurry,’” recalls Sen. Maria Cantwell, a Democrat from Washington. What struck Senator Cantwell most about the footage she saw this week was not how narrowly she and her colleagues avoided danger, but how much law enforcement did to protect them. “Your heart breaks for the violence that the police officers endured, for hours, which we didn’t have a full understanding of then.”

Likewise on the Republican side of the aisle, Sen. Jerry Moran of Kansas told reporters that after watching the “heart-wrenching” videos, he was filled with “empathy for law enforcement officers, and appreciation, and gratitude.”

The events of the day ultimately left three police officers dead, including two by suicide, with many others injured.

As one of the House impeachment managers, Rep. Eric Swalwell of California, talked about the brutality police faced that day and invoked the biblical promise “Blessed are the peacemakers,” another reporter saw the Capitol Police officer assigned to the press gallery look upward, with tears in his eyes.

Partisan differences

Sen. Elizabeth Warren, a Massachusetts Democrat, told reporters she found it hard to watch the footage of people who were terrified, hurt, or under threat, and then try to make eye contact with Republicans “who just wanted to look off.”
 
“The Republicans who stand with Donald Trump are his enablers,” she said. 
 
Many GOP senators said those who engaged in violence should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, and agreed that what happened on Jan. 6 could have been even more deadly. Men with zip ties in their hands were seen jumping over seats in the Senate gallery not long after the senators had been evacuated, while others roamed the halls yelling, “Hang Pence!” But some Republicans took issue with the all-or-nothing Democratic framing.
 
“What they’re trying to do is bring all the emotions out and say, ‘This is so horrible – you’re going to do nothing?’” says Republican Sen. James Lankford of Oklahoma, who became visibly emotional at one point in the chamber, which he later attributed to recalling the story of a particular individual he knows well and their escape that day.
 
“I think what they’re trying to paint is, if you don’t impeach the president then all these people will walk away scot-free,” he says, referring to the rioters, more than 230 of whom have been charged so far. “And that’s not true.”

Sen. Raphael Warnock, one of two Georgia Democrats who narrowly won in Jan. 5 Senate runoff elections, was not in the Capitol that day. Nevertheless, he empathizes with who those who were, including the cafeteria staff in the basement who locked themselves in a break room and barricaded the door with tables.

“My heart goes out for everybody who was here that day, especially the Capitol Police officers, the law enforcement officers, the people in the Capitol that too often we don’t see – the janitorial staff, the people who are just here every day doing their job,” says Senator Warnock, a pastor. “I think the trauma that they endured is unspeakable. And we need to honor that by the work that we do not just during this impeachment trial ... but in the days ahead.”

“There is no healing without accountability,” he added. “And that’s the process that we are appropriately working through right now. And I take it very seriously. It’s a profound responsibility. And it is above politics.”

(Editor’s note: This story was updated to better distinguish between Monitor reporting and material from Capitol Hill pool reports.)

California Gov. Gavin Newsom was flying high in May. His approval ratings soared past 60% after the Democrat took decisive pandemic action, locking down his state. But two surges later, with most kids still not attending in-person school, his approval rating plunged and he’s facing the very real possibility of a recall special election this fall.

Other governors have seen ratings deflate. And other governors, too, have made mistakes in handling this once-in-a-century pandemic. But no other governor has been challenged quite like this one, says Jessica Taylor, of the independent Cook Political Report. Of all the state executives, she says, “he has the hardest state to manage.”

California is huge and complex, just as the pandemic and the fight against it are proving to be. These challenges are amplified in a state that mirrors the rest of the country. At a time when pandemic responses can get tangled in partisan politics, it’s a reminder that even in a blue state with a Democratic governor, what voters most want is competence and a sense of trust. And the bigger the place to be governed, the bigger the challenge, no matter what its political color.

California’s population of 40 million – by far the largest in the nation and larger than Canada – is stretched over sparsely populated forests, mountains, and deserts. It includes a flat, agricultural swath down its middle. And its coastline is studded with major urban centers.

Beyond that, it’s diverse. Latinos are now the largest ethnic group and a powerful force in politics. Silicon Valley billionaires sit atop a yawning wealth gap; the state has the highest poverty rate in the country and the most homeless. It’s the fifth largest economy in the world, spread over 58 counties from Los Angeles (10 million people) to Alpine (1,129).

“The scale in California is enormous. It’s so big, you can’t even conceive of it,” says Democratic consultant Garry South. New Zealand is praised for nearly eradicating the virus, but it’s only got 5 million people, he says. “Everything in California is giant sized, including when we have problems. In the case of the pandemic, that characterization applies in spades.”

Newsom’s pandemic problems

This week, California passed New York for the most pandemic-related deaths in the nation (though it ranks 18th on a per capita basis). Vaccine distribution has been uneven and confusing, with rules changing for who qualifies. The governor has been sharply criticized for his on-again, off-again lockdown orders, as well as for hypocrisy in going maskless to a party at the exclusive French Laundry restaurant last November.

His handling of the pandemic has turned a Republican attempt to collect enough signatures for a special recall election from a long shot into a likelihood, though most analysts think he would survive.

“He’s made some mistakes,” says Mr. South, suggesting the governor has tripped up on opening bars and devolving vaccine distribution to the counties. But he’s also changed tack, for example by centralizing vaccine distribution. That approach remains to be proven, but “I give him credit for a mid-course correction,” says Mr. South.

Others, particularly Republicans, feel the governor has been far too heavy-handed. Officials, residents, and businesses have refused to comply with restrictions and filed a flurry of lawsuits. Last week, the state Supreme Court ruled against state rules banning indoor religious services due to the virus, saying they must be allowed, though the state can impose a limit of 25% capacity for at least the next month.

Rich Pedroncelli/AP

California Gov. Gavin Newsom outlines his 2021-2022 state budget proposal during a news conference in Sacramento, Calif. on Jan. 8, 2021. California Democratic leaders are being criticized after attempting to link the insurrection at the U.S. Capitol with efforts to recall Newsom. State Democratic Party Chair Rusty Hicks led a group of Democratic officials who described the effort to remove Newsom as a “coup” and claimed, without evidence, that those involved were far-right extremists.

Is this California or the Midwest?

From the outside, California looks indigo-blue in its politics, but it has the same deep divisions as America as a whole. “Even though it’s a very Democratic state, there are regions that are very different,” says Eric Schickler, a political scientist at the University of California, Berkeley.

That makes it difficult to implement pandemic measures, he explains. “With the state being so diverse and complicated, it’s been really hard for Mr. Newsom to find a formula that can work across the state.”

On one end of the spectrum are progressives in San Francisco, where the school board last month decided to toss 44 school names, including George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and even Sen. Dianne Feinstein, for being associated with racism or human rights violations.

It’s stirred outrage and caused Democratic Mayor London Breed to ask why the board was intent on renaming schools by April, when it did not have a plan to return students to school by then. Last week, the city sued its own school district to force reopening. This week, the unions and the district tentatively agreed on some reopening criteria.

On the other end of the spectrum are far-right extremists. After the Jan. 6 attack on the U.S. Capitol, federal officials arrested a man in California’s Napa County on weapons charges. They said that texts by the man, who had pipe bombs and machine guns among other weapons illegal in California, indicated he was targeting the governor, as well as Twitter and Facebook. He reportedly belongs to the Three Percenters, who have been connected to the plot to kidnap Michigan’s Democratic Gov. Gretchen Whitmer.

“There are parts of California that look [politically] like the Midwest,” says pollster Mark DiCamillo.

Recall chances

The pandemic now threatens the governor’s standing. It was only after Mr. Newsom’s maskless party appearance – for which he later apologized – that recall petition signatures began pouring in. Republicans need 1.5 million valid signatures by March 17, which they are likely to get, especially with the Republican National Committee now involved.

If there is a special election, though, experts say it’s unlikely that there will be a repeat of the 2003 recall of Democratic Gov. Gray Davis and the election of Republican Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger – the only successful recall in California history. The state is now much more lopsided in favor of Democrats, who outnumber Republicans by a margin of 2-to-1. None of the GOP candidates so far has the star power and name recognition of the former actor. And Mr. Newsom’s job approval ratings are nowhere near as low as Mr. Davis’, which were in the low 20s.

Still, the governor has to take recent polling seriously. A poll last week by the UC Berkeley Institute of Governmental Studies asked specifically about the recall. The number of undecideds is “unusually high,” says Mr. DiCamillo, who directs the poll. “Newsom is well-known to voters, yet 20% of them say they’re unsure how they would vote. And the reason for that is they want results on COVID, and they’re waiting to see what happens.”

Loss of trust

One challenge is erosion of trust. Nearly half of voters have no or little trust in Mr. Newsom and the state government in setting stay-at-home orders or guidance for businesses – including a quarter of Democrats and half with no party preference.

“Trust, and seeing your governor abide by the rules, matters,” says Ms. Taylor, at the Cook Political Report. “Some may have said that ‘Laundrygate’ was overblown, but there are people that have radically altered their lives and are not seeing loved ones.”

Mr. Newsom is not the only Democratic state executive under fire. New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo is facing calls for censure from lawmakers in both parties because of allegations that he and his top aides covered up the breadth of coronavirus deaths in nursing homes after withholding information about the death tolls, according to news reports.

To restore trust, Ms. Taylor says Mr. Newsom must deliver on vaccines, with experts saying distribution must be both speedy and equitable.

One thing that should help is a friendlier president in Joe Biden. For much of the Trump presidency, the state and the White House warred. But Mr. Newsom went out of his way to avoid criticizing former President Trump on issues related to the virus so he could get into the queue for resources, says Marcia Godwin, a professor in public administration at the University of La Verne. “I’m not sure the public gets the subtleties of how he handled the Trump administration.”

“Nothing ... is going to please everyone”

Even with better White House relations, vaccine distribution is bringing into sharp relief the question of who gets priority: those most vulnerable to the virus – many from underserved communities – or teachers, essential workers in health care, and law enforcement?

It is a reprise of last summer’s debate about reopening: What is more important, slowing the spread or getting the economy back on track, including kids in classrooms?

“There are so many different policy objectives that we’re trying to get to, and they are often at odds with each other,” says Jeanne Ringel, director of Rand Corp.’s health care access and delivery program. “Different people have different values that they place on different objectives. It’s really a tough question.”

For governors, she says, it means strong leadership, while being careful to avoid a one-size-fits-all approach.

“Nothing they do is going to please everyone,” she says. That’s why their main role has to be “overarching guidance, leadership, and support – allowing counties the flexibility to implement things that meet the needs of their communities.”

When the United Nations’ Human Rights Council called an emergency session Friday to take up the mounting protests and increasing repression in Myanmar in the wake of the military coup there, a United States delegation was present for the discussion.

That may not sound like news. But until this week, the U.S. would have been absent: The Trump administration pulled out of the world’s premier (and most universal) human rights body in 2018, dismissing it as a den of Israel-bashing authoritarians.

But on Monday, Secretary of State Antony Blinken announced U.S. reengagement with the Geneva-based council, as one piece of President Joe Biden’s intention to return the U.S. to a global leadership role through reinvigorated multilateralism.

“We recognize that the Human Rights Council is a flawed body, in need of reform to its agenda, membership, and focus, including its disproportionate focus on Israel,” Secretary Blinken said in a statement. But he said the U.S. withdrawal “did nothing to encourage meaningful change, but instead created a vacuum of U.S. leadership, which countries with authoritarian agendas have used to their advantage.”

The U.S. will initially engage with the Human Rights Council (HRC) as an “observer,” but is widely expected to stand for election to a three-year term on the 47-member council when the U.N. General Assembly elects a new slate of members in October.

An unresolved debate

The U.S. decision has revived a debate that has simmered since even before the HRC replaced the widely discredited U.N. Human Rights Commission in 2006: Is the cause of international human rights better served when the U.S. brings its vision of universal values and support for democratic principles to the global table – even if that table is flawed?

Or is the U.S. better able to advance human rights around the world by focusing its energies on other rights-promoting venues – and keeping its power and prestige outside the HRC – as a means of pressuring the council to undertake serious reform?

Advocates of human rights have strong views on both sides of the debate. Where they largely agree is that powerful authoritarian voices – most notably China – have increased their volume and become more assertive in recent years in pursuing a vision of human rights quite different from the Western focus on individual rights and freedoms.

Disagreement is not over whether the U.S. should promote human rights, but instead over how and where the U.S. can best promote its vision.

“Yes, the Human Rights Council has been spotty, but it is clearly an improvement over what came before it, and the United States was an important part of that improvement,” says John Cerone, a special adviser to the first U.S. delegation to the HRC under the Obama administration.

As an example, he points to the innovation of the universal periodic review, which regularly evaluates the human rights performance of every one of the U.N.’s 193 member states. Other improvements include growing use of “commissions of inquiry,” which have looked into particularly egregious cases of human rights deterioration, such as in Syria and Libya, and what he says is a “reduced even if still disproportionate focus on Israel” on the agenda.

The HRC “has made important gains, and it’s important to point out that the improvements occurred when the U.S. was on the council,” says Mr. Cerone, now a professor of international law at Tufts University’s Fletcher School in Medford, Massachusetts.

U.S. seal of approval

Yet even critics who acknowledge some improvement in the HRC over its 15 years say the Biden administration’s decision to “reengage” is premature and will only lend legitimacy to a body whose members currently include China, Russia, Cuba, Uzbekistan, and the Philippines.

“If you look at the Freedom House rankings, you see that most of the world’s worst respecters of human rights get elected to the council and then are able to exert their priorities over their term,” says Brett Schaefer, an expert in global politics and international institutions at the conservative Heritage Foundation in Washington.

“Biden is essentially following in the footsteps of the Obama administration when it said, ‘We’re going to work from within the council to improve it,’ but the results were almost nothing,” he adds. “They’re putting the U.S. seal of approval on the status quo and bestowing U.S. legitimacy on the world’s worst violators of human rights.”

Staying out of the council until it undergoes “serious reform” would not have left the U.S. without multilateral venues to promote human rights, Mr. Schaefer says. He points to the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe, which he says has pressured Belarus over its human rights failings; and the Organization of American States, which has kept Venezuela’s rights abuses and democratic backsliding at the top of its agenda.

Salvatore Di Nolfi/Keystone/AP

Myanmar's envoy Myint Thu listens during the Human Rights Council special session on "the human rights implications of the crisis in Myanmar" at the European headquarters of the United Nations in Geneva, Feb. 12, 2021.

Of course, remaining outside the HRC on principle would have denied the U.S. one diplomatic arena in which to express its perspective on the crisis in Myanmar.

When Mark Cassayre, chargé d’affaires of the U.S. mission in Geneva, called on council members Friday to “join the United States” in urging Myanmar’s military to “restore power to the democratically elected government [and] demonstrate respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms,” it lent the powerful voice of the U.S. to the cause for freedom there.

Still, Mr. Shaefer says a better U.S. approach to the HRC and its long-term effectiveness would have been to dangle the possibility of a U.S. return as a carrot to encourage reform. “The U.S. should say, ‘We have some specific ideas for improvement, and we want to see some attention to these ideas before we reengage with the council,” he says.

A new era

But some human rights advocates shudder at that kind of prescription for U.S. action, saying it’s a reminder of an American arrogance that turns off much of the world – and which harks back to a bygone era of U.S. superiority.

“We’re not in the post-WWII era anymore, when the U.S. and the West generally said, ‘We’ve got this figured out; the rest of you need to be like us right now,’” says Kerstin Bree Carlson, an associate professor of international law at the University of Southern Denmark in Odense.

The HRC was “not created for human rights angels,” she says, but with the idea of encouraging “an upward trajectory on human rights” among U.N. member states and calling global attention to cases of serious backsliding and gross violations.

Ms. Bree, who will soon publish a book on the march of human rights in Africa, says her research underscored the positive role the HRC has played in several instances, often with very critical investigations. Pointing to her own work in South Sudan, for example, she says, “It’s the council that was on the ground ... [bringing] a focus on human rights to an issue otherwise largely overlooked.”

In that context the U.S. can play a welcome role, she says, “but not from the perspective that it is the ultimate referee judging from somewhere on high each country’s trajectory.”

For the Fletcher School’s Professor Cerone, the U.S. should not stand aloof, with the idea that the council needs the “added legitimacy” the U.S. brings with it. “The Human Rights Council is seen as a legitimate body by most of the world,” he says.

What the U.S. does bring to the HRC is its diplomatic influence, its considerable resources, its voice for human rights – all reasons like-minded allies “will be very grateful the U.S. is back,” he says.

“The U.S. can be constructive on human rights issues, and in ways other states can’t,” he says, “because they just don’t have the soft power of the United States.”

A year ago, had you told Emma Phillips that before long she would choose a visit to the world’s first cast iron bridge as the best way to spend her first date with a man she had never met, she would have laughed in your face.

But then the pandemic struck. Around the world, everything about dating changed. Ms. Phillips, a young Englishwoman, began to have second thoughts about the whole business.

“Given all the restrictions, I thought that maybe we shouldn’t meet at all,” she recalls of her outdoors, socially distanced blind date last December in Ironbridge, in the English Midlands. A mutual friend had put her in touch with the man. Still, it felt odd “figuring out whether you feel attracted to someone, if you’re wearing a mask and standing two meters away.

“It takes away the spontaneity of dating,” says Ms. Phillips, who worked for an engineering firm in Paris before returning home to be with her parents during lockdown. “It’s like COVID is the invisible chaperone and there’s no escaping it.”

Gonzalo Rodríguez, who still lives in Paris, knows how she feels. The 37-year-old Spanish data analyst was used to packing in with friends on a cafe terrace in the evening, or spreading out on blankets along the hip, tree-shaded Canal Saint-Martin on a weekend; that is where he sought romance.

Suddenly, Mr. Rodríguez saw this vibrant dating scene shrink to an app on his phone. 

Like singles all over the world, Mr. Rodríguez is now wary of physical contact. He meets only for outdoor dates – walks or picnics in the park – and bumps elbows to say hello rather than exchange the customary Parisian kisses on the cheek.

“With dating now, you deserve a medal if you succeed,” Mr. Rodríguez says.

Love and personal relationships are basic human needs that are not always at the top of a pandemic discussion agenda crowded with infection rates, vaccination rollouts, and job losses.

As those who are looking for love around the world enter their second pandemic year, many are rethinking what relationships mean to them, and some are even wondering whether they need a partner after all. But beneath the anxiety and uncertainty, most are hoping that love will find a way.

Making Wi-Fi connections personal

Gordon Davis, who works at a nonprofit helping ex-prisoners in Hurley, New York, had been waiting for more than two decades to start dating. His first chance was blighted by the pandemic.

Incarcerated at the age of 16, Mr. Davis was released last May, 25 years later. While imprisoned, he had looked forward to dating for the first time – even just socializing – upon his release. But the pandemic changed everything.

Social distancing and New York’s constraints on bars, restaurants, and other venues mean there are few places left for singles to mingle.  

“You finally have the ability and the freedom to do and go as you please, but there is nowhere to go,” he says. “There’s no one to hang out with. You can’t go on dates. It’s almost like we’re still in prison.”

For singles across the world, there is one place to turn: their smartphones.

Dating apps such as Tinder and Bumble report soaring user numbers in the United States, Europe, India, and China – up to 100% increases. Where once singles used such apps to arrange in-person dates, they are now gateways to open-ended internet dating.  

The move to online dates has been a stark change for Londoners whose fast and loose pre-pandemic social lives were built on casual evenings and chance encounters in pubs and at parties.

“Dating reflected our busy lifestyles,” says Katharina Riekemann, a 28-year-old working in public relations in south London. Hopping straight from work to after-work drinks, late nights to the next morning’s commute, she and her housemate never saw each other. “I never really got to know people that well before. You might have met someone but you wouldn’t really connect with them.”

Suddenly, she was browsing apps from her parents’ home in Bath.

The pandemic may have given her the time to make such connections, but “it’s hard now because you talk to people but you don’t see them” in person, she laments. “I basically have a list of pen pals.”

And as the world faces another year of restrictions, global fatigue with app dating is setting in. Zoom “dates” feel like job interviews. Messages on dating apps stack up, conversations about daily life in the living room quickly grow stale, and relationships go nowhere.

Ted S. Warren/AP

Two people walk hand in hand near Pike Place Flowers at the Pike Place Market in Seattle on Feb. 9, 2021. Valentine's Day is Feb. 14, and a worker said they would be busy all week getting ready.

It’s complicated …

After swiping right and making a match, singles across the world face an existential question: How does one “date” amid a pandemic? What is the proper etiquette once restrictions are loosened? Public space or at home? Elbow bump or – if not too forward – a kiss?

All the traditional uncertainties of early dates are magnified in unfamiliar ways, making everything more complicated. Choosing the right place to meet, judging the other person’s comfort zones, deciding if and when to take your mask off; all this adds pressure.

Health worries have also made singles choosier, as they weigh the attraction of a date against the need to protect loved ones at home or to preserve “bubbles” created with friends and co-workers.

That means added complications for Matt Mohr, who met his girlfriend in weekly Zoom dinners with a group of mutual friends last year.

They both self-isolate for two weeks before he makes the two-hour drive from his home in Columbus, Ohio, to her place for weekends of cooking and watching Hulu, and then self-isolate again after their time together.

“There’s a certain amount of acceptable risk that we’re taking now every time that I go up,” says Mr. Mohr, who works in health care IT. 

Dating logistics are even more complicated for socially and religiously conservative singles who have long met their potential partners only in public areas under the watchful eyes of chaperones, within the bounds of tradition.

In Israel, cafes, restaurants, and hotel lobbies – popular venues for first dates among ultra-Orthodox couples – are closed. The pandemic has also disrupted other religious Jews’ reliance on social networks rooted in synagogues and Sabbath and holiday meals.

Dates, when they happen, have been relegated to the outdoors, with the cold and winter rains acting as a damper.

“I had a date in the rain. I’m 33,” says Zehava, a teacher. “I came home in tears. It’s not menschlech,” she adds, using the Yiddish word for dignified.

Allona Urbach, director of the couples programs at Tzohar, a rabbinical organization, says that even under normal circumstances “it’s as difficult for a person to find their match as it is to part the Red Sea. In corona times, it’s even harder.”

But for those who do meet the right person now, she adds, “the connection often seems richer and evolves more quickly.”

Some break up, some bond

Not everyone is so fortunate, and breaking up is even harder than usual amid COVID-19; no “night out with friends” to commiserate, turn the page, or forget your heartbreak; no blind dates to dip your toe back into the dating pool.

But there was a silver lining for Emily Maggs, a 27-year-old business development director for a health nonprofit in Atlanta when she and her boyfriend broke up just before last year’s lockdowns.

“I think it was kind of a blessing, because it helped me distance myself. I mean I had to distance myself from him,” she says.

Ms. Maggs has been single throughout the pandemic and hasn’t gone on a date, or even downloaded a dating app, out of health concerns. But she, like many, can feel the pressure mounting “to meet someone.”

“It feels like there’s this timer that has been turned on. You always feel like you’re missing out; you’re losing time. I’ve never felt this before in my life.”

For many couples and casual dates, the pandemic has been a pressure cooker.

Soon after lockdown went into effect last year, Parisian Jorge Sánchez Guitart’s roommate moved out and his girlfriend moved in. The sudden, constant togetherness caused tensions. They broke up a few months later.

“The situation just accelerated what would have happened further down the line,” Mr. Sánchez Guitart says now.

But sometimes the pandemic has brought new couples even closer. 

In early 2020, Tlangelani Nyathi and Selina Weber, both in their early 20s, decided to move in together in Port Elizabeth, South Africa, less than a year after sharing a whirlwind fling at the university where they were both studying.

They then unexpectedly spent an entire nationwide lockdown in their cozy studio apartment, sharing a single room all day, every day. For five months.

“We learned how to really be together because we were always together,” says Ms. Weber, who is German.

When she returned home last August, the couple applied for a German visa for Ms. Nyathi, supporting the application with evidence of their commitment to each other such as affidavits, photographs, and lease agreements. They were reunited in Hanover in December.

“Everything we went through in the pandemic underscored how serious we are about each other,” says Ms. Nyathi.

In Jordan and elsewhere in the Arab world, the pandemic has shortened the traditional multistep courtship and engagement period from months to weeks, and in some cases, just days.

It was while trading daily messages during a nationwide lockdown last April that Jordanian engineering student Osama Nasser and his university sweetheart decided they wanted to marry.

Meeting after the lockdown ended in August, their families expedited a back-and-forth process of vetting and visits to sign a marriage contract. Not waiting for the pandemic’s end to hold the traditional big fat Arab wedding, they will have a small ceremony this summer at home and add to the wedding drums, clapping and songs pulsing from Amman apartment windows each Friday.

“With all this uncertainty, you either get married now … or you risk missing out,” says Mr. Nasser.  

A fresh outlook

The pandemic has led some singles to change their outlook on love and fulfillment.

“I’m not giving up, but I imagine my future alone,” says Mr. Rodríguez, the data analyst in Paris. “Not lonely, but alone. It is hard to imagine when life will back to how it used to be.”

Some are embracing being alone.

“It’s not the moment for me. There are too many risks and not enough benefits,” says Nina, a 40-year-old Parisian. She is potentially giving up her “last chance to have a baby” to avoid rushing into the wrong relationship and to protect her mother, with whom she lives.

After a few “bad experiences” with pushy matches, she gave up on apps and instead is using the pandemic to focus on her interests, reading and exercising at home – putting herself first, and enjoying it.

“It is really a one-of-a-kind chance to focus on ourselves and do things we never had the opportunity to do before,” says Nina.

Amid loss, long odds, and dating apps deleted and reloaded, love’s hope still springs eternal on this Valentine’s Day.

Having tried his hand at “every app you can think of,” Mr. Davis, the nonprofit worker from New York, is still waiting to meet someone for “a little dinner, a walk, to enjoy nice views.

“If I get a chance to go on a date, I’m going!” he says.

Nick Roll in Cincinnati; Dina Kraft in Tel Aviv, Israel; and Ryan Brown in Johannesburg contributed reporting to this article.

Black feminist thought has become crucial to how we navigate the social, economic, and political currents in America. To understand the consequences of pervasive racist narratives that seep into mainstream media – as well as into public policy and legislation – we must first examine how these narratives affect one of this country’s most vulnerable populations: Black women. 

Too often, the societal contributions of Black women are erased, undervalued, or credited to others. We are forced to be our own biggest advocates and we are compelled to fight for the opportunity to express our truths, all while educating folks who are ignorant of our realities. 

Black women were expunged from the suffrage movement and overlooked during the civil rights movement. Naturally, written works are a direct and succinct way to write ourselves back into history. These five classic literary works serve as manifestoes by Black women when it comes to articulating our unique experience. They are also must-reads, especially during Black History Month.

“Ain’t I a Woman” by bell hooks

This 1981 book by feminist icon bell hooks is named after a famous speech given by Sojourner Truth at the 1851 Women’s Rights Convention in Akron, Ohio. It examines the complicated nature of Black womanhood, especially as it pertains to the legacy of slavery, fetishization of Black women’s bodies, and sexism as it related to the Black nationalism movement. A strong and sobering read, “Ain’t I a Woman” grapples with a disturbing history that has always worked to degrade Black women.

“When Chickenheads Come Home to Roost: A Hip-Hop Feminist Breaks It Down” by Joan Morgan 

Hip-hop is often regarded as the most powerful genre of music on the planet. However, the women who support it are often the subject of its vitriolic lyrics – so where do they find safety? Joan Morgan’s book examines this complexity through a series of essays that deconstruct the “strong Black woman” archetype. At first glance, the concept of hip-hop feminism – women of color enjoying frequently misogynistic music – would seem to be a paradox. However, hip-hop feminism empowers Black women to acknowledge this and actively participate in the culture while embracing their identity. Ms. Morgan explains the importance of this concept with wisdom, power, and grace.

“On Intersectionality: Essential Writings” by Kimberlé Crenshaw

Not only did Kimberlé Crenshaw coin the word “intersectionality,” a framework that describes how compounding marginalized identities can either help or harm someone, but she also composed an anthology of essays that explore its prevalence. Published in 2017, “On Intersectionality: Essential Writings” is a comprehensive look at how discrimination and racism have beleaguered the United States – and Black women – for centuries. Ms. Crenshaw is a critical theorist whose work has aided in the normalization of radical feminism.

“Eloquent Rage” by Brittney Cooper 

The most captivating element of this book is the way that it explains how anger can be a vital attribute yet is almost always condemned in a Black woman. Brittney Cooper puts things into political perspective by examining the dangerous shortcomings of white feminism and how it leaves out Black women. “Eloquent Rage” intertwines lived experience with faith, friendship, and fiery resolve. Her book is a reclamation of Black fury and informs readers – specifically Black women – that passion does indeed have a purpose.

CSU Archives/Everett Collection/Newscom

Poet Audre Lorde’s identity crossed multiple categories.

“Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches” by Audre Lorde 

Audre Lorde’s identity has always consisted of many components: Black woman, lesbian, mother, poet, and feminist. Finding her place in a racist, capitalistic, and patriarchal society is the very core of her work. “Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches” is a strong example of this: She focuses on communal ills such as homophobia, ageism, police brutality, and violence against women. When it comes to studying Black feminism, this canonical book is foundational in unpacking critical social issues. 

Candace McDuffie is a cultural columnist and author of the recently published book “50 Rappers Who Changed the World.”

Reuters

A bride waits to take her wedding vows at a mosque in Ahmedabad, India.

Most governments try by varying degrees to instill fairness into their systems of justice, land ownership, education, and health care. But progress toward equity is uneven and – in some places, in reverse. In India, for example, the ruling Hindu nationalist party, the Bharatiya Janata Party, continues to limit the rights of Muslims. The latest example is a string of new restrictions on interfaith marriage in states it controls through laws banning religious conversion. 

Since November, three BJP-controlled states have enacted laws making such conversions a criminal offense. At least two more have drafted similar legislation. The real intent of such laws is to ban what is called “love jihad.” The term falsely depicts Muslim men as predators out to convert vulnerable Hindu women through marriage. 

Activists have cried foul. India has a secular constitution. The 1954 Special Marriage Act protects unions of couples from different religious communities. Although the Supreme Court has twice refused to hear petitions this year challenging the constitutionality of the new religious conversion laws, some opponents are pushing back with a different weapon: love stories.

Last October, as the country’s most populous state was preparing a law that would impose prison terms of up to 10 years for anyone found guilty of using marriage to force someone to change their religion, three former Indian journalists launched a campaign called the India Love Project. It invites couples married across the lines of religion, caste, and ethnicity to tell their stories through social media.

“There is a narrative that there are other, more insidious motives for marriage – that love is being weaponized,” Samar Halarnkar, one of the campaign founders, told the BBC. 

In practice these restrictions address a phantom issue among a population of 1.35 billion. According to a 2013 study by the government-run International Institute for Population Sciences, based on the most recent comprehensive survey of Indian households, only 2.2% of all married women between the ages of 15 and 49 had married outside their religion. A Statista poll last May found that 75% of Muslim women in India “strongly disagree” with interfaith marriage. But the conversion laws fit into India’s long history of Hindu-Muslim strife and their adverse effects were almost immediately tangible. Since the first law’s adoption in the state of Uttar Pradesh, dozens of Muslim men have been accused of “enticing a woman and forcing her to convert to Islam.” In the city of Lucknow a wedding was halted. Hindu women face harassment and violence if they are found with Muslim men. Interfaith couples trying to register their marriage face daunting bureaucratic hurdles.

Nivedita Jha, an author and journalist who posted her own story of interfaith marriage, told Al Jazeera that “love jihad” laws violate “the soul” of the constitution. “Jihad is [only] done when we go to war,” she said. “In love, there is no war.” 

The India Love Project is modest as protest movements go, but sometimes the call for justice has to rise up from the grassroots, reminding governments of their true role. Marriage is common to all human cultures. It embodies shared ideals of steadfast commitment, selflessness, a safe environment for children, a home for each heart. Where it flourishes unrestricted by discrimination or exclusion, it can be a source of stability for societies as well as individuals.