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After some diligent online research, the Harwood couple settled on a specific type of mask with removable filters, which they believed would be the most comfortable and best protect their children. They’ve stocked up on 20 masks, “assuming they’re going to get lost,” says Bettenhausen, whose twin girls are just starting kindergarten and oldest daughter is now a second-grader. 

That’s just a snippet of the reality that parents have faced while preparing for their kids’ in-person learning experience this fall. After many Baltimore-area institutions went remote or hybrid last year, schools are now welcoming students back in full capacity for the first time in 18 months. However, with a revolving door of coronavirus mutations and surges, for parents, this year’s back-to-school prep won’t be as simple as a quick Target run. While many are excited to have their kids back in the classroom, some are still understandably uncertain about their health and safety. 

“I’m a little apprehensive and excited,” Bettenhausen says. “You love your kids, but it’s hard to have them at home all the time,” he laughs. 

That sentiment is also shared amongst educators and school officials: “It’s a time of cautious excitement,” says ​​André Riley, a spokesperson for Baltimore City Public Schools. “Since March 2020, we have not had the vast majority of our students in our classroom—we’re excited to welcome them back.” 

To help alleviate parents’ anxiety, we talked to Baltimore health experts to answer burning back-to-school questions amid the Delta surge: 

Is it safe for students to return to school right now?
Officials say yes, as long as the school has adopted proper safety measures such as social distancing, masking, and sufficient ventilation. “Once schools put in place layers of mitigation measures,” Dr. Katherine Connor, a pediatrician at Johns Hopkins Children’s Center says, “there actually is not a lot of transmission within them.” 

The U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) agrees. According to a July CDC brief, multiple studies conducted during the 2020-21 school year demonstrated that if schools take adequate prevention measures, COVID transmissions within them remain “typically lower than—or at least similar to—levels of community transmission.” And that is the case even in communities with relatively high transmission rates, according to studies done in Utah and North Carolina. 

How do we keep them safe once they are back in the building?
Connor says that vaccinations and—particularly for children—masks are the most important precautions. Last month, the CDC updated its mask mandates, recommending all students, teachers, and staff mask up this fall, regardless of their vaccination status. All Maryland public schools will require universal masking for students and staff, according to a mandate passed by the State Board of Education last week. When choosing reusable masks for your kids, make sure that they are not only comfortable, but also have two or more layers of washable, breathable fabric. 

Public health experts also agree that vaccination is the way out of the pandemic. Although the U.S. Food and Drug Administration granted emergency authorization for the Pfizer vaccine to children as young as 12 in May, the vaccination rate among minors in Maryland—following the national trend—remains lagging. As of the end of August, just 64 percent of adolescents between 12 to 17 years old have received at least one dose, The Baltimore Sun reports. Therefore, public health officials and experts are still coaxing more parents to get their kids vaccinated. 

Of course, the CDC also recommends that schools utilize other prevention measures including social distancing, regular testing, enhanced ventilation, frequent handwashing, staying home when sick, contact tracing, and vigorous cleaning and disinfection.    

What if my kids are too young to be vaccinated?
Then, officials say, masking is even more crucial. Currently, Pfizer and Moderna are reported to have undergone clinical trials for kids ages 5 to 11. But it is estimated that there won’t be a COVID vaccine available for this age group until late this year or early 2022. 

To protect unvaccinated children, it’s important to have “a protective cocoon of vaccinated individuals,” says Dr. Rebecca Carter, a pediatrician at the University of Maryland Medical Center, who suggests getting teachers, school staff, parents, and older students vaccinated to keep younger ones safe. 

What precautions should be taken at home?
Although some parents feel that, since the kids are back to school, there is no need to cut back other activities—such as indoor playdates and large birthday parties—Carter says data shows that those gatherings can be far more likely to spread the virus than schools, as kids are less likely to adhere to distancing and masking. 

Connor agrees, adding, “for the most part, people who have infections in schools got their infection somewhere else and then showed up in school.” To that end, Carter urges parents to avoid high-risk activities outside of school, limiting gatherings to outdoors with smaller groups and masks. 

What does the surging Delta variant mean for children?
Scientists are still figuring that out. But one silver lining is that the virus has historically been merciful on kids. Compared to adults, infected children usually have mild symptoms, if at all. And the likelihood for children to develop life-threatening symptoms, be hospitalized, or die from COVID-19 is also considerably low. (No children have died of the disease in Baltimore City.) With that in mind, while the Delta variant certainly tends to be more infectious, there is still no data to support that it will put children at greater risk.  

However, the ultra-contagious nature means the variant, to some extent, should be “a game changer for how we view COVID risks for children,” Carter says. As such, she strongly recommends all children (or adults)—regardless of vaccination status—start universal masking to help curb the spread, and those who are eligible for COVID vaccines to get the jabs. 

Are there ways to mentally prepare kids for going back to school during this uncertain time?
“Uncertainty makes everyone uncomfortable, kids included,” Connor says, suggesting parents provide them with information and support. “That’s why I think it’s really important to have conversations with them about why we’re doing what we’re doing.”

Meanwhile, some younger kids may be less anxious about the virus and more apprehensive about re-integrating and fitting in with their peers after long isolation. To help ease that anxiety, Connor says parents should give their kids room to express their feelings and coach them to take baby steps while resuming their back-to-school routine. 

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Once she arrives, she spots a large green trash bin behind the gate, opens the lid, and spills a colorful blend of apple cores, mango bits, banana peels, and green leaves into a high pile of organic waste.

“It’s really easy,” says Welch, concluding her second compost delivery. Her first, almost three weeks ago, was just days after Baltimore kicked off its first city-wide food waste pilot drop-off program—which aims to promote a sustainable, zero-waste future by gathering food scraps at five residential collection sites. 

Now, almost a month in, citizens are taking advantage of the project as a convenient (and free) way to compost. It’s a good sign for city officials, who hope that the initiative will change how Baltimoreans think about their food waste overall. 

“This is the first time we’ve done something like this on city-owned property,” says Kristyn Oldendorf, who leads the program at the city’s Department of Public Works. “Anything we can do to increase composting and reduce waste is really important.” 

According to a recent tally of residential trash conducted by the city, food scraps make up roughly 25 percent of the city’s waste stream. If they’re not composted, most of these scraps are incinerated or go straight to a landfill. “It takes so much to create food,” Oldendorf adds, “Just throwing the material away is not the best use of it.”

The inspiration for the pilot project was sparked by the Baltimore Office of Sustainability’s Food Matters Program, which offers two food scrap drop-off sites at the 32nd Street Farmers Market and the Baltimore Farmers Market and Bazaar under the JFX. After observing auspicious participation at these sites, and obtaining extra funding from Natural Resources Defense Council, the city decided to expand its food waste collection to all five of its citizen drop-off centers. At these locations, which are typically used to collect single-stream recycling and large bulk items, residents can now dispose of food scraps six days a week at varying hours. 

The pilot program will run about three to four months, Oldendorf says. And depending on people’s participation, the city will then decide whether to keep the program for the long run, or even expand. 

Through the data collected throughout the program, city officials are also hoping to have a better grasp of which drop-off site is the most popular (the Sisson Street Drop-Off Center is in the lead thus far), the volume of the food waste at each site, and regular drop-off routines to further optimize the waste pick-up and composting resources. 

So far, the project seems to be off to a good start. As of last week, the city has collected just shy of 500 pounds of food scraps from the five sites. Once per week, Compost Crew, a Maryland-based organic waste hauler, transports the collected scraps to the Prince George’s County Organics Composting Facility. There, the leftover bits from people’s kitchens decompose with the help of a host of microorganisms, breaking down into dark, nutrient-rich material that can be put back to the soil. 

But there are still some hurdles to navigate. For starters, the DPW is working on how to educate residents on minimizing contamination—such as nylon, paper products, and plastic bags—in the composting stream. The city currently accepts fruits, vegetables, eggshells, gourds, grains and bread, pasta, coffee grounds, and tea bags. It does not allow plastic bags, dairy, meat, oils, paper products, produce stickers, compostable bags, or tableware.

It’s worth noting that even before the pilot program, many Baltimoreans had already begun composting their food waste—through grassroot composting collectives, community gardens, or even their own backyards. And Oldendorf makes it clear that the city’s drop-off program is not meant to compete with other community-based programs. Instead, she hopes the initiatives can work together, providing what she calls “a menu of options” for residents to reduce waste.

“We work closely with a lot of local composters,” she adds. “The goal here really is to promote residents to think about their food waste.” 

Nora Frankel is another Remington resident who recently made her first trip to drop off her saved food scraps. 

“I was excited,” says Frankel. “As soon as I heard about the program, I immediately bought a compost bin.” 

Walking from the southern edge of Remington, the trip for Frankel is just about 10 minutes one way. And although it is her first time going to the site, she immediately recognizes the waste bins, opens her composting container, and unleashes a parade of coffee grounds and vegetable scraps. 

Throwing food away breaks her heart, she says, but she also knows the bits and pieces she just let go of will eventually make their way back to earth, nourishing more lives in the soil. 

“Compositing,” she says, “gives food a complete life cycle.”

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Although Baltimore City and its surrounding counties are spared by the updated C.D.C mask guideline for now—with only a “moderate” level of community transmission—infectious disease experts and health officials are still urging residents to take measures in an effort to help the city fend off the worst outcomes from the potentially torrent Delta wave.

“We’re still well below the peak, but the trajectory is concerning,” says Dr. Aaron Milstone, an epidemiologist at Johns Hopkins Hospital. “The best way to bend the curve is to have people get vaccinated and put the masks back on.” 

So far, Baltimore City has not reinstated its mask mandate (though other surrounding cities, such as Washington D.C., have.) However, City Health Commissioner Dr. Letitia Dzirasa says her department will “constantly be reassessing to determine if a change is needed in the future.” 

Because the Delta variant appears to spread through respiratory aerosols and droplets, similar to prior variants—albeit much more aggressively—masks still remain an effective way to help curb the virus. To that end, Dzirasa encourages people to practice health mitigation measures—including masking, washing hands, and being cautious of going to large gatherings—regardless of whether there is a mandate to help slow the spread of the virus, especially to vulnerable populations such as children and the immunocompromised.

“I still wear a mask in public settings,” says Dzirasa, a mother of a four-year-old, “because I know my son is at risk.” 

Despite the fact that Baltimore is currently experiencing lower infection rates than other places throughout the country, the Delta resurgence is already knocking on the city’s door. Currently, an average of roughly 28 city residents are reported to be infected with the coronavirus daily, which is almost five times the average caseload from four weeks ago. And the city’s seven-day average infection rate has dialed up to 1.6 percent, almost quadrupling the rate from the previous four weeks. 

“The game has really changed,” says Dr. Gregory Schrank, an infectious disease specialist at University of Maryland Medical Center. “And that change came with the Delta variant.”  

The fourth notable mutation of the original coronavirus that turned the world upside down, the Delta variant—which originated in India last December—has been referred to as “the coronavirus on steroids.” People who contract the strain may display the same symptoms as the virus’s original version, but current evidence supports that the variant could be more than twice as transmissible. Within the U.S., the variant is believed to be the culprit of more than 80 percent of new COVID-19 infections, the C.D.C estimates.

And the Delta variant is so contagious that even some vaccinated individuals have been reportedly infected. (These are what scientists call “breakthrough infections.”) However, Schrank points out that the relatively low numbers of breakthrough infections—out of millions of vaccinated individuals—are expected, since the COVID vaccines cannot be 100 percent effective at preventing infection, even with prior variants. 

“Unvaccinated adults are still the driver of surges and high levels of community transmissions,” he emphasizes. “The vaccines remain highly effective at preventing the most severe cases of COVID-19, leading to hospitalizations and death.” 

Despite the importance of COVID vaccines, Baltimore—following the national trend—has experienced a major slowdown in its overall vaccination rate in recent months. As of August 1, only 52.7 percent of Baltimore City residents over the age of 12 have received full vaccinations. “It’s not enough,” says Milstone, pointing out that the only way to end the pandemic is through vaccination.

Dzirasa agrees: “I think the call for action is to get as many folks vaccinated as possible,” she says, adding that the city’s long-term goal is to achieve at least an 80 percent vaccination rate. One of the efforts to meet that goal is the city’s partnership with area colleges, which has been targeting unvaccinated demographics in Baltimore neighborhoods. 

It is unclear how long the infection rate will continue to climb in Baltimore. “That’s the crystal ball that no one has,” says Milstone, who explains that the possibility of a larger outbreak in the region is largely dependent on people’s behavior. “If people listen to public health measures, then hopefully rates will go down. If people don’t listen to public health measures, then, unfortunately, rates will continue to climb.” 

Schrank, the University of Maryland infectious disease doctor, agrees. Currently, the hardest-hit areas of the Delta surge are among the parts of the country where vaccination rates and mask acceptance are relatively low. Therefore, by urging people to mask up and advising those who are unvaccinated to get the jabs, Schrank thinks Baltimore still has a window to fend off a particularly perilous Delta outbreak.   

“We don’t want to bring ourselves to that point,” Schrank says, referring to the ongoing outbreaks in the country’s hit-hard regions. “Let’s just take the opportunity [to act] now.” 

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Like any homey space, the headquarters for the Baltimore nonprofit—dedicated to protecting the most vulnerable of the city’s LGBTQ community through its range of programs—has couches placed in front of a TV, a vacuum leaning against the wall, breakfast cereals sitting on top of the fridge, a white board dividing up house chores for youth sheltering there, and the smell of slow-simmering chicken permeating throughout the space.

“Survival mode is a term I use to refer to my people,” says Iya Dammons, founder and executive director of Baltimore Safe Haven, speaking from her experience as a Black transgender woman. “We have to be a family.” 

And family members show up for one another. Last June, in the wake of the killing of George Floyd and the Black Lives Matter demonstrations that broke out across the nation, Baltimore Safe Haven organized the city’s first-ever Black Trans Lives Matter March, drawing hundreds to rally for vulnerable transgender people of color. A powerful photo from the inaugural event, captured by local artist Devin Allen, made the June 2020 cover of Time magazine. 

This Saturday, July 24, the march will return for its second year, stepping off from City Hall at 1 p.m. It’s expected to be attended by local leaders including Mayor Brandon Scott and city councilmen Zeke Cohen and Kristerfer Burnett. 

“My message to the world is to stop killing trans women of color,” says Dammons, sitting next to a big plastic megaphone that will amplify that message, as well as others about creating systemic change in the city, this weekend.  

It’s a call to action that urgently needs to be heard. In 2020, 44 transgender or gender non-conforming people lost their lives to violence in the U.S.—the majority of the victims being Black and Latinx transgender women. This year, at least two trans women—Kim Wirtz and Danika “Danny” Henson—were reported to be killed in Baltimore. 

And for those in the local LGBTQ community, marching for equality and justice is not just chanting support slogans at a Saturday-afternoon gathering, but rather, a representation of their lifelong mission.

Nicole Wells, Baltimore Safe Haven’s Latinx affairs coordinator, thinks of the march as a way to boost trans voices. Her primary job is to serve the city’s Latinx LGBTQ community—a population that not only faces discrimination, but also experiences immigration challenges, cultural differences, and language barriers. “Some nights I can’t sleep,” she says. “I just think about how I can serve the community.”

Arielle Stewart, who works as a harm-reduction specialist for Baltimore Safe Haven—where she spearheads programs that provide resources such as clean needles and condoms—shares the same passion. By marching down the street with transgender people of color, she wants to tell the world, “We are here to stay.” 

For chief of staff Melisa Deveraux, the “Jill of All Trades” for Baltimore Safe Haven, the march this weekend is to honor trans lives lost. At 27, Deveraux has lost many of her transgender “sisters and daughters” to violence, suicide, and what she calls “the odds that stack against us.” 

“I buried girls and I shouldn’t have,” says Deveraux. “It’s important to honor the lives and deaths of Black trans people and the legacy they have left behind.”  

Adds Baltimore Safe Haven’s HIV program director Tashi-Kali M. Acket: “The march is about freedom for all. When we say Black lives matter, we mean all Black lives matter.” Acket, 33, is a Black veteran who was discharged from the military for being a lesbian woman. 

Jasmine Lynn Tetlow, the organization’s case manager who takes care of its residents’ legal matters—from name changes to obtaining social security—has also faced her share of adversity. Tetlow was incarcerated for 23 years and taught herself law in prison. Now, she is certified paralegal in the state of Maryland. 

For Tetlow, who is white, the upcoming march is about showing solidarity: “It’s about being there for one another,” she says. “I will not stand in front of you or behind you, I’ll stand right next to you.” 

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“I remember I had a chicken sandwich,” Virts, a Baltimore native who grew up in Columbia, recalls of his first “normal” meal back to civilization. “I was like, ‘This is the best food I’ve ever had in my life.’” That was just one snippet of life he had to recalibrate, alongside coping with the nerves of reuniting with family and friends after a lengthy separation. 

In one way or another, we are all finding our way “back to Earth” in this post-vaccination world. And while many couldn’t wait to ditch the irksome Zoom mute/unmute buttons in favor of face-to-face dinner conversation, others feel anxious and uncertain about their quest toward normalcy. 

“I think there’s a lot of strange parallels,” Virts says, alluding to the excitement and edginess that come with returning to a routine. “The pep talk will be taking it slow—it’s not going to be perfect right away, but over time, it’ll get back.”

Building off of that sentiment, we talked to mental health professionals to get some earnest advice on how to stay calm and sane when merging back to pre-COVID patterns. 

Socializing is like exercising, it needs a warm-up 

Although humans are a gregarious species, socializing still requires practice, especially after not flexing that muscle for so long. Therefore, if you haven’t been socializing with people during the pandemic, it’s totally normal to forget how to make small talk or mingle dexterously within a crowd.

“Socializing is a skill, and we can get rusty at it,” says Neda Gould, a clinical psychologist at the Johns Hopkins Bayview Medical Center Anxiety Disorders Clinic. But not to worry—with a little time and practice, the skill can be quickly retrieved. It’s like typing or riding a bike, as Gould puts it—the more you do it, the faster and smoother it gets. 

Take it one step at a time 

COVID-19 restrictions might seem like they were lifted overnight, but life doesn’t have to be restored in the blink of an eye. With that said, Gould encourages people to take baby steps when reclaiming their normal life. Instead of attending a large party or big concert from the get-go, try to start with a shopping trip or a coffee date with a few close friends. 

Embrace your feelings 

Understand that there are no wrong feelings: “A really important component of working with feelings is to not make you feel like you should feel a particular way,” says Gould. In other words, it is perfectly okay for you to experience negative feelings during this stressful time—try to acknowledge and work through them. 

Be mindful of others 

Hosting a house party? Planning a brunch gathering? Go for it! But be sure to give your guests permission to say no if they don’t feel comfortable participating just yet. Remember that people are moving at different speeds when it comes to re-integrating. With that said, even if guests agree to come, make sure to give them the option to wear masks if they want, and keep the hand sanitizer at the ready. By helping your guests reduce their anxiety during an event, yours will probably get better, too. 

Take good care of yourself 

Let’s admit it—it’s been a challenging year-and-a-half for everyone. So, give yourself a break. Practicing mindfulness can also help you make a smooth transition out of the dreary pandemic. Gould suggests meditating or exercise. Additionally, planning ahead—i.e. making sure the parking pass is ready when returning to the office, or mentally running through what the day will be like when going to a social gathering—can also help minimize our anxiety.  “Our brain doesn’t like uncertainty,” says Gould. 

Pay attention to your kids 

The pandemic has taken a mental toll on everyone, especially children and adolescents. “Adolescence is a time of forming and maintaining close intimate friendships,” says Dr. Sarah Edwards, a child and adolescent psychiatrist at University of Maryland School of Medicine. “During the pandemic, they weren’t allowed to do that.” Edwards suggests that parents have open conversations with their children to talk about their feelings and give them space to label their emotions. 

Don’t be afraid to seek help 

While most of our anxieties and distress will eventually fade with life back to normal, some may persist or get worse. The bottom line: if you are struggling, don’t be afraid to seek help from a mental health professional. In Maryland, you can call 211 Maryland—Maryland’s Helpline to receive confidential 24/7 mental support. And if you notice something is off with your kids, “the first place I always recommend is to go to their pediatricians,” Edwards says. 

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The day is still young, and the streets are barely awake, with only a small crew of road workers and a few brunchers on the block. From outside, it’s hard to tell if the tiny corner bar tucked in between Park Avenue and Tyson Street is open for business. But locals are already drinking inside. 

And they have been for more than a century. The two-story building that houses Leon’s was occupied by its forerunner, Georgia’s Tap Room, in the 1890s. Coming out of Prohibition, Leon Lampe purchased the bar in the 1930s and gave it its name, which has remained ever since. In 1957, Leon’s, a bohemian hangout for Mt. Vernon’s artists and hippies, started to promote itself as “gay friendly.” Now, it’s believed to be the longest continuously running gay bar in Baltimore. 

“You can tell right away there are lots of regulars,” says Frank Vitrano, who himself has been a regular of Leon’s since 1982. For as long as Vitrano can remember, Leon’s has always been a neighborhood spot at heart.  

With the oval-shaped bar filling the room, red-and-black tile floor that has seen better days, and vinyl-sealed bar stools that are threadbare, Leon’s is the quintessential dive. Hanging out there is like being inside the bowel of a ship—even the brightest summer light can barely penetrate through the hovering black ceiling and blue-and-black painted walls. The TVs and the digital Jukebox mounted on the wall are the only reminders that you are still in the 21st century. 

“It’s kind of off the beaten path,” says Tina Wallace, who has been a bartender at Leon’s for six-and-a-half years, and plans to stick around for the long haul. “We like it that way. It’s our home away from home.” 

Like Leon’s, there are many other places in the city—from old churches to corner bars to ordinary rowhomes—that have played significant roles in Baltimore’s LGBTQ history. Lurking beneath their mundane, or even lackluster, semblances, these places have witnessed the trajectory of Baltimore’s LGBTQ community and its fight for equality.

In fact, a statewide LGBTQ historic context study published last fall by Preservation Maryland—a Baltimore-based preservation nonprofit—has listed more than 200 sites in Baltimore City and Baltimore County that are important to Maryland’s LGBTQ history. And many sites—such as the Gallery One Bar in Station North and Black LGBTQ activist Louis Hughes’s former house near Hollins Market—are as quotidian as Leon’s.

Susan Ferentinos, the author of the study and a historian consultant brought on by Preservation Maryland to lead the project, says that a lot of people equate historic buildings with beautiful buildings. She makes the point that a building can be historically important, but also non-descriptive. “What makes [a place] historic is what it meant to the community and to the neighborhood,” Ferentinos says, “and what happens there.”

Preservation Maryland’s president Nicholas Redding agrees: “It’s important that all Americans from every walk of life are reflected in the places that we recognize as historic,” he adds.

To that end, Ferentinos is now working on behalf of Preservation Maryland to nominate three Baltimore sites to the National Register of Historic Places by the National Park Services. Among them are Leon’s, the Monumental Elks’ Lodge No. 3 in West Baltimore—where Black LGBTQ social events and drag performances happened in the early-20th century—and a former gay clinical site in Mt. Vernon that later developed into what is now Chase Brexton Health Care. 

Standing at the intersection of West Chase and Brexton streets, the unassuming commercial building was at the forefront of Baltimore’s AIDS crisis in the early 1980s. The center became known for providing the LGBTQ community with early anonymous HIV testing and treatment, as well as compassion and care during a dark time. 

“I think finding our dignity through recognition of our history and our struggle is so beautiful and really essential,” says Kate Bishop, education coordinator for The Center for LGBTQ Health Equity at Chase Brexton Health Care. 

Both Chase Brexton and Leon’s are not only historic, but also community staples in the present. While Leon’s regulars believe preservation is important, they’re adamant that they always want it to be a working bar. “We don’t want it to turn into a museum,” one bartender says. 

“It’s not Fort McHenry,” Vitrano says, while drinking his Rose Kennedy. “Don’t make it ironic.” 

Phillip White, who first entered Leon’s in 1999 when he was 23 years old, concurs. “I think it deserves recognition, but keep it as is,” he says. To White, Leon’s is “one big bowl of John Waters,” one of the few remaining places in Mt. Vernon—where he has lived for decades—to meet interesting characters and feel a sense of belonging over simple, affordable drinks. “A lot of places have closed,” he says. “I would chain myself to the door without Leon’s.”

Speaking of interesting characters, Tony Cammarata, wearing rainbow-colored Mickey Mouse ears, walks into Leon’s with his husband, who he met at the bar on Christmas Day in 2003. 

“One year, three months, and four days!” he announces to the crowd, marking the official end of what must be the longest separation (due to COVID-19) between him and Leon’s since 23 years ago, when he first started coming to the bar. Before that, his uncle, a gay man, had frequented Leon’s in the 1950s. 

“I think it is important to preserve this place,” he says after a sip of Michelob Ultra—a beer that he convinced the bartenders to serve at Leon’s after its debut in the early 2000s. “But just don’t change a thing.”

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With a tsunami of cicadas ascending from the Maryland soil this year, ripping through the summer sky with their loud songs, Allman’s ear ringing does not get worse, but—surprisingly—better. With the cicada melody, she is able to find a sense of normalcy back in her life. 

“I absolutely love them,” says Allman, who now enjoys going out in the morning and listening to the cicadas. “I just feel more like a normal person, because everybody is hearing it, not just me.”

Allman is likely not the only person benefiting from the cicada buzzing that is often tumultuous to many. With billions of Brood X cicadas emerging in the eastern United States, experts say that the love calls of these once-every-17-year insects, which resemble a common tinnitus sound, may distract some people from their tinnitus and soothe their ear ringing. On the other hand, audiologists also warn that for people who dislike the cicada noise, the singing bugs can exacerbate the anxiety towards their tinnitus, making the conditions more irritating. 

About 10 percent of Americans have tinnitus, though the precise number is hard to assess, says LaGuinn Sherlock, a research audiologist at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center. Although tinnitus is common, it is more of a symptom than a disease, and people may react to it differently—ranging from not being bothered at all to being severely impacted. Scientists have yet to discover the causes for tinnitus, although in most cases, people who have it also seem to have hearing loss. Other medical conditions—such as ear infections or head trauma—are also shown to be linked to tinnitus. 

While there is no cure, there are means to alleviate the symptom, including sound therapies in which audiologists introduce suitable white noise to rewire the brain to react less to the internal sounds. 

For some people, the cicada noise is “the perfect sound for mixing in with their tinnitus,” says Lachelle Lazarus, a clinical audiologist at the University of Maryland Medical Center. So the symphony orchestrated by the billions of cicadas this year may become a natural sound therapy. But not everyone with tinnitus enjoys the cicada noise, including Sherlock’s colleague, Nancy Solomon, a speech pathologist at Walter Reed. 

“What I thought at the beginning is, ‘Oh, good, this noise will help me with my tinnitus,’” says Solomon, who lives outside of Rockville. But as the cicadas become louder and louder, Solomon says it has become increasingly difficult for her to go and enjoy the outdoors. “I think I’ll be happy when [the cicadas] leave,” she adds. 

Dr. Matthew Stewart, an otolaryngologist-head and neck surgeon at Johns Hopkins Hospital, says being exposed to “relentless auditory assault of cicada sounds” can be “triggering and annoying.” And that, in turn, can make some people perceive their tinnitus to be worse. “[It is] just like an engine overheating,” says Stewart, comparing the continuous burdens from the cicada noise on the ears to attending a loud concert or working on an airport tarmac.  

In fact, cicadas are among the loudest insects on earth—in some cases pitching louder than 100 decibels, which is as ear-splitting as football games. According to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, being exposed to noises at 100 decibels for more than 15 minutes can lead to potential hearing loss. To that end, Stewart recommends that people who have tinnitus, especially those who are vulnerable to cicada noise, should wear ear protection when going outside or avoid it altogether. 

As for people with tinnitus who find cicada noise therapeutic, Lazarus, the University of Maryland audiologist, recommends people listen to some level of the cicada sound without letting it completely mask their tinnitus. That way, she says, the brain can effectively associate the cicada sound with the tinnitus sound. And, hopefully, after gradual training, the brain can change its perception to tinnitus and react to it in a benign way, even after the cicada noise goes away. 

Regardless of their stance on the cicada choruses, both Allman and Solomon understand that the pleasure—or annoyance—that the noise brings is only temporary. For people with tinnitus, the only way to tame the condition long-term is through habituation—meaning that they essentially learn to live with it. 

After all, “cicadas are only here for six weeks,” Solomon says, “we have to deal with tinnitus for years.”

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