SUNDAY, AUGUST 9, 2020MBNEW YORK CITY2 SUNDAY ROUTINEChild care and a family drive,
on a nonprofit chief ’s agenda.
3 BIG CITYGinia Bellafante on well-to-do
evasion of pandemic rules.
4 MUSICIAN’S SELF-CARE‘I was studying the heart to
prepare for treating myself.’
6 IN THE DIARYA cinematic smooch, bargain
umbrellas and a free cab ride.
It’s rare these days to be a small and suc-
cessful manufacturer in New York City.
And perhaps even rarer for a family-
owned business to shift its operations sev-
eral times in moments of national need —
including participating in a mysterious, top-
secret military contract that redefined mod-
ern warfare.
Plaxall, a family-owned plastics packag-
ing company, has been operating out of a
factory in an industrial stretch of Long Is-
land City, Queens, for 70 years.Normally, it produces medical waste dis-
posal containers, dessert trays and form-fit-
ting packaging for perfume and liquor bot-
tles. But during the shortage of personal
protective equipment, Plaxall started pro-
ducing medical face shields. Since April,
100,000 shields have been made.
“Over the years, we’ve had many people
ask us why we keep manufacturing in New
York City,” said Matthew Quigley, one of the
three cousins who help run Plaxall. When
this public health crisis happened, he said
that they thought, “Maybe this is the reasonPlastics Maker Fit for All Roles
CONTINUED ON PAGE 7Paula Kirby, near right, and
Matthew Quigley own Plaxall,
which helped produce various
products for the government
during World War II and now
produces face shield kits.By KAYA LATERMANBENJAMIN NORMAN FOR THE NEW YORK TIMESPlaxall, a family-owned manufacturing company in Queens,
has a history of answering the call of duty in a national crisis.
In March, with the coronavirus lockdown in
full swing, Chrissy Sample was feeling anx-
ious. Furloughed from her job and stuck at
home with her 8-year-old son, she was also
pregnant with twins, who were due in mid-
July. Although she often felt immobilized by
an intense pain in her legs and lower abdo-
men, her doctor regularly told her these
feelings were normal.
Ms. Sample had seen her regular obste-
trician, but as a 34-year-old woman carry-
ing more than one child, she was supposed
to see a high-risk obstetrician frequently.
However, the earliest in-person appoint-
ment she could get was in late March, when
she was already 25 weeks pregnant.
“I felt like I needed my hand held for this
pregnancy, but they never had time to see
me,” she said.
Covid-19 protocols kept her husband from
joining her, so Ms. Sample was alone as she
watched the obstetrician move the sono-
gram wand across her belly. Looking
pained, the doctor then told Ms. Sample she
heard only one heartbeat.
“I was hysterical,” Ms. Sample said. After
a more thorough examination, this physi-
cian said the baby had died within the previ-
ous three days and noted, with evident sad-
ness, that the death probably could have
been prevented had she seen Ms. Sample
sooner.
The pandemic has laid bare the role race
plays in the health of New Yorkers. In this
highly segregated city, which has long had
significant racial disparities in everything
from cancer deaths to life expectancy, it isnow well established that Black and Latino
New Yorkers die of Covid-19 at twice the
rate that white people do.
It’s often difficult to know why any one
patient receives what she believes to be
substandard care. But the statistics show
that pregnant women of color are more
likely to face undesirable outcomes for rea-
sons that public health experts are trying to
understand.
Across the United States, Black women
are three to four times more likely to die of
childbirth-related causes than white wom-
en. In New York City, however, Black wom-
en are eight to 12 times more likely to die.
Black infants in the city are also three times
more likely to die than white newborns — a
gap that is nearly 50 percent greater than
the national average. Researchers say most
of these deaths are preventable.
Underlying causes aside, it seems clear
that Covid-19 is making things worse.
“Black birthing people are already more
likely to die, regardless of their income or
education,” said Joia Crear-Perry, an obste-
trician and president of the National Birth
Equity Collaborative, a nonprofit dedicated
to eliminating racial disparities in birth out-
comes. “Now, with Covid, resources are
scarce and hospitals don’t have what they
need. Who bears the brunt? The people
least likely to be listened to.”
It is too soon for official data on the effects
of the pandemic on maternal and infant
health, but the anecdotes are worrying.
In July, Sha-Asia Washington, a 26-year-
old Black woman suffering from high bloodBlack, Pregnant and in Greater Peril
By EMILY BOBROWThe Covid-19 crisis has
underlined stark racial
disparities in maternal
health care in New York.
Chrissy Sample and her son Cassius, whose twin died in the womb. “First there were no baby showers, then there was no baby,” Ms. Sample said. “It’s just a sad time.” CONTINUED ON PAGE 5FLO NGALA FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES‘Resources are scarce
and hospitals don’t
have what they need.
Who bears the brunt?’