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Just to flag - I am actually on holiday (!!) for the rest of the week (nothing terribly glamorous, but time away from my desk is much-needed), so there won’t be a newsletter next Monday. Normal service will resume on the 19th.
Morning, Colleague!
Today I wanted to talk about something that’s been niggling away at the back of my mind for over a year. It’s a difficult topic to broach, and arguably not sensible when we’re still living in the midst of it, but I find myself circling round the idea that Covid has been worse for the self-employed, and self-employed women in particular.
Just to be clear, I am aware of my privilege. I’ve been extremely lucky compared to many, and there are countless numbers of people who have lost loved ones, struggled with long Covid, or been made redundant. It’s been an utter shit-show for everyone. But, as we start picking up the pieces, whatever that looks like, I’ve become aware of an emotional divide between me and my friends who are in traditional employment.
The self-employed have traditionally been an afterthought when talking about work and rights. Our sick pay and maternity leave are laughable. There’s no holiday allowance, and no real security. As a journalist, I don’t even need to get paid until months after a piece of work is completed… I could go on.
Covid has really drilled this message in. For those looking after children, and trying to juggle that with self-employment (where no understanding boss is going to wave away a drop in performance) it’s been a living hell. There was no furlough scheme for us. (And yes, I know both childcare and furloughing have been awful for many employed people — it’s not that I don’t have sympathy, it’s just that I think the self-employed experience has been ignored entirely.) If our customer base retreated, or our industry shut down, there were months before grants became available — well after they’d sorted out furloughing for everyone else. And many of us weren’t eligible for anything until now, as we hadn’t been freelancing for long enough to have the necessary paperwork. It’s been immensely stressful and, on top of that, it’s been demoralising to feel like we don’t count. We are somehow lesser than the traditional employed community (even though they’re having an awful time too, of course). As usual, we are an afterthought.
If you are struggling after not receiving government support, check out Excluded UK who are doing fantastic campaign work, and offer free emotional support.
I thought I’d started to move on from this narrative now that things are opening up, but I realise I’ve been finding it hard to relate to my employed friends. Admittedly, part of the issue is that everyone has been left to make their own decisions, and everyone falls on the spectrum in different places. But I also think many employed people are more comfortable with risk because they have guaranteed sick pay. Being felled by long Covid would be massively unpleasant, but they wouldn’t need to worry about money, or career security. There would, most likely, be a job for them to pick back up when they feel better, and probably a colleague to cover it, to one degree or another, in the meantime. I think that’s a large part of my reluctance to get back ‘out there’ with my friends, and why I wouldn’t feel comfortable inside someone else’s house until I’ve had my second jab.
That’s not to say that many self-employed people aren’t back out there more than me, and I’m not trying to police behaviour. The point I’m trying, perhaps clumsily, to make is that I think I’ve pinpointed one of the reasons why I feel different, and it’s in part because there’s an inherent financial risk in being self-employed and being unable to work.
It’s a bit of a side note, but I’ve looked into income protection insurance recently, for this reason. I never see anyone talking about these things, so I thought some of you might find it helpful. I wasn’t even sure it existed! But it does, and it will cover you for future illnesses, including long Covid. Quotes obviously vary based on age, occupation and health, but I was quoted between £35-£74 a month, so it’s not cheap, but I’m hoping it will help me start to move on post-Covid. Perhaps it will help me feel less frightened and frustrated. I hope so.
I asked in the OOO Facebook group how other people felt about the impact of Covid on the self-employed, and had quite a varied response (I think some of you are much more fair-minded than me!) While many pointed out that employed people, including loved ones, had been having a wretched time too, others highlighted the problems of not having colleagues to commiserate with during such a stressful period. (Although, of course, we now have each other.) Some of you started freelance life mid-pandemic, and have been doing an incredible job.
Whatever your career is looking like post-lockdown, for what it’s worth: I see you. Whether you’ve pivoted so many times you feel dizzy, have lost your income completely, or have managed, against the odds, to have a profitable period, it’s been fucking hard for all of us. But we’re still here. We’re a rapidly growing sector, and we matter.
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