Exhibition Guide

Visual Description:

This visual description uses language that reflects how the CHW described themselves during discussions with BMA staff.

A figure appearing as a woman with dark skin stands outdoors surrounded by trees and looks off to her right and into the distance. She is wearing a colorful, patterned dress and holding a round paper fan in her left hand with a similar vibrant pattern. She is accessorized with sunglasses and large circular earrings, as well as two chunky yellow and green stacking bracelets. Sunlight filters through the tree leaves around her, illuminating her in this partially shaded natural setting.

Full Testimony:

I’m Veda Moore, and we’re here at STAR (Sisters Together And Reaching). I met Reverend Hickman here because I’m HIV-positive, and STAR has a support group which I used to go to around 2000.

At age 11, I was molested and raped. I didn’t wanna be seen. I never wore makeup because I never wanted to draw attention to myself. And— I always wanted to be light skinned, have light eyes, and be bowlegged. I started using drugs at around that time and did that off and on for a lot of my life. I have three children, and during my addiction, I was a good mom for a little while.

When me and my husband separated, I backed the truck up, moved my stuff out, and my addiction took off again. My children were with me in the house, and they all finished school, because even though I was getting high, I would make them look out for each other. The older one helped the younger ones with their homework. All of them ended up being top of their class. I was using drugs off and on, and then around ‘97, ‘98, I got really tired of living like that. It didn’t happen overnight, but over time.

When I found out I was positive, I kept missing work. I was blacking out. I couldn’t go outside when it was really hot, or I would faint. I would get in arguments, and I would black out. I thought it was from the drugs, but I got a phone call, and this doctor told me over the phone that I was positive. I didn’t know how to internalize that. I guess because of the way my face was looking, my son asked, “Ma, what’s wrong?” I told them; I let my children know. I wanted to kill the guy that gave it to me. I didn’t use intravenously, so I contracted it through sexual contact with him. I was still in the house with him, and there was just a lot going on. I went through all kinds of emotions. Hating myself and always thinking I was ugly from such a young age added to everything, so there was more stuff stuffed down. I was still getting high, but I was fed up with it. I didn’t want to get high no more, and I tried to stop on my own.

I had a stroke trying to quit. My son Caleb was in the house with me, and I could feel this pain like coming up the middle of me. Then I was balled up in a knot, and he asked, “Ma, you want me to go get somebody?” I said, “No, don’t leave. Stay with me. Let’s just pray.” I had a cigarette in my hand, and I didn’t know I had dropped it because I didn’t feel it. I wouldn’t go to the hospital because I was still using. So, I walked around for three months with no use of this left hand. After about three months, I remember feeling a tingling like how it feels when your hand goes to sleep. Then I noticed I could move it a little bit. As time went on, all my feeling came back, and I got all this movement back. That’s how I know there is a God.

I’ve been evicted from my house twice. I actually lived in my car, and so friends of ours in the neighborhood let my children stay with them.

When I moved to my third house, I was still getting high and started selling cocaine for these guys from my front porch. They called it Ready because it was cocaine that was already cooked up solid.

They would cut it up and sell it. They would stand on the corner, and I was sitting on the front, because they would always try to keep a close eye on what’s going on.

One day, I’m sitting there with cocaine in my pocket, and this church van came up the block. I was waiting for them to leave so I can finish making money. This white guy from the church group came over, and he was ministering to me. While he was ministering to me, I was sitting there having my own conversation with God in my head. I was telling him, “God, if you show me how to live without using drugs, knowing that I’m HIV-positive, I’ll never use drugs again.” Then I heard something say, “Well, girl, you ain’t dead yet.” That’s what I heard: “You ain’t dead yet, so why don’t you try something different?” God meets you where you at.

A couple days later, I got real sick, and they had to call the paramedics. At the hospital, a social worker asked me if I got high. They had done bloodwork and urine—she knew I got high. But she wanted to see how I was gonna respond to it. Out of my mouth came, “Yeah, I get high.” She said, “If I get you a bed, will you go on a detox?” And I said, “Yeah.” I used from the age of 11 until then. I was 45. So, I went home and thought about it. I told the boys that I was working for that I was going into treatment. They told me, “You go ahead. Yeah, you need some help. We’ll make sure your kids eat every day and that they go to school. We’ll make sure they do everything they supposed to do.” These boys I’m working for—what do they care what I do? All they care about is making their money. But when I went into treatment, they said, “You go ahead, we’re gonna make sure everything is all right.” That’s an important detail, because God can use anybody.

After the treatment, the doctors sent me to 911 which is an aftercare program for addicts. I could go every day and you spend the day there. I would go in for breakfast, have multiple groups and then go home. I was doing GOD, Good Orderly Direction. I wanted to stay clean. I didn’t wanna use anymore. I didn’t wanna be mad at the birds in the morning. I used to hate the birds in the morning because they let me know that it’s time to do this all over again. So, I’m sitting in holding at 911, knowing that I have AIDS and saying to myself, “I ain’t gonna tell nobody.” It still has that kind of stigma with some people. In group, this guy got up and shared how he had been shot about nine times. He had HIV, cancer, and hepatitis. And—he had about a year clean. I thought, “He has all that going on and he’s still clean?” I remember thinking that I knew I could do this. People would still come knock on my door trying to sell drugs. The guys that I worked for knew I was clean. They would tell people, “Don’t come here looking for her no more. She doesn’t get high, so don’t come to this house.”

911 was an awesome program. I met some really nice people in there. I learned to not leave my house without a plan. We would get there in the morning, and at 3 p.m., I would go to an NA meeting. There were about five of us that connected, and we would all get together and just go from meeting, to meeting, to meeting. They told us to do 90 meetings in 90 days. Wow. I think we did triple that. We would just go to meetings, and then whoever had food stamps would go to the market and treat everybody to a sandwich. We would go eat and just go to more meetings. It was an eight-month program, but I stayed for a year.

When I was around five years clean, I told my sponsor that I would really like to have a degree. I had always thought that I was too dumb to go to college. Being molested and raped made me feel that. All through school, I never raised my hand.

The only way I would answer a question was if the teacher would call on me. When other children would raise their hands and answer the question, I’d be sitting there having a conversation in my mind, “Oh, I knew that.” But I would never raise my hand; there was some reason I was afraid. But then I had a lightbulb moment. I said, “I’m going to go to college!” So, I took a placement test. Then, I get this letter in the mail labeled Orientation.

Orientation? Now, this is how God works. This was His doing. I know I was dumb in school, but I knew what orientation meant. So, I just went up there to see what they were talking about. When I get there, this man shows me my schedule. I said, “Wait a minute. I’m starting classes?” He said, “Yeah. This your schedule. You’re going to be starting classes.” I said, “Oh, what have I done got myself into …”

They set me up to go get my books, and I did really well. I had a 4.0—until I got to biology. I went to my lecture and lab instructors and told them that I’m going drop biology because I just wasn’t grasping it. They both said, “Veda, don’t drop the class. Just keep coming.” I kept going to class. I remember waiting for my grades, checking online. My children were even asking, “Ma, what did you get in biology?” I’m checking everything else. I got a couple of A’s. I got a B. All I’m waiting for is doggone biology. Then, it showed up. I got a C. I was screaming at the top of my lungs. My son said, “What? You got a C? You are screaming and carrying on like that over a C?” I said, “This is like having a B.” That one C dropped me from a 4.0 to a 3.7, but I hung on. I had so much fun in college. I was the oldest one in every class except for my major which were addiction classes. Those classes had people my age because the majority of them were in NA.

When I graduated, I had a 3.5—I still wanted that 4.0 so bad. One of my friends in the fellowship said, “Veda, any chance you get to walk that stage, you walk that stage.” So, I went across the stage to get my degree. I actually went across the stage twice because I got a certificate in human services. The next year I took three classes and got my AAS degree for addiction. So, I went across the stage again. I was just so tickled with myself. I got the President’s Cup for an essay I wrote about my life. I was honored at an awards banquet as part of the National Honor Society. I was just so happy. Here was somebody that never raised her hand, who always thought she was dumb. But I went ahead, and I finished school. It’s been a really long journey.

In one of my addiction classes, I had to do an internship. I already knew Reverend Hickman from going to her support groups at STAR, so I did an internship there. The next year I did an internship at Johns Hopkins. They had a program called First Step Day Hospital, for people with chronic illnesses including addiction. They had to stay there all day and do groups. We would sit in rounds, and doctors would bring patients to discuss how they were doing, next steps, and that sort of thing. After I finished my internship, I came back to First Step Day Hospital and did volunteer work. I would come up there every day to volunteer.

Diane Moses came up with this idea of a peer advocacy group to follow patients graduating from First Step to see how they were doing and help them stay on course. She would tell me about jobs and say I should apply for them. Finally, I said, “I’ll do the interview.” A doctor, the supervisor, and Diane took turns asking me questions. Well, how about it…. I got the job. Diane came up with this idea to take what I had been doing and put it in a clinic to help with barriers to care. We were all in this meeting throwing out ideas, writing everything on the wall. The group got all this stuff together, and they came up with community care coordinators. Donnie Missouri was there. He was a counselor at First Step Day Hospital. I also knew him from the fellowship, and he got me my internship.

We started out at East Baltimore Medical Center. I loved this job. I was helping people. So many different people had helped me, and this is my way of giving back. What I would do is go to a person’s house and find out what’s keeping them from coming to their doctors’ appointments. You might find out it’s transportation, or they may be using drugs, or there’s no food in the house. It could be a number of things. So, we start finding resources to bridge those gaps. As soon as they heard I worked for Hopkins, they just let you have it. “Hopkins is always saying they are doing A, B, C, and D for the community.” So, I would always just start my conversations, “What can I do to help you?” They would let me know if they needed to get off drugs, or if they needed transportation. So, we started setting things up, bridging these gaps.

They start bringing in more community care coordinators, and then that name changed to community health workers, CHWs. They started sending us to different trainings. Donnie came on board at that point, and we went to Bayview.

That’s where I met Dr. Fingerhood. I worked in comprehensive care and then with seniors. It didn’t seem like work though. The perfect job is being excited about getting up and going to that job every day. That’s how I was with this job. I never felt like I was working. People used to get upset with me when I said this is a job I would do for no pay. I would do it as a volunteer because I really love helping people. Also, I was learning as they were learning. They start branching us out, spreading us even further. CHWs with outpatients or in the ER. It was just expanding, and then we started a CHW Association. It’s still in existence. I remember at one of the meetings, we were talking about what we did because everybody spoke about the good work that CHWs do. So, we took it to the delegates and the Senate in Annapolis to get certified. I’m so proud that I was one of the CHWs to help us become certified. I was part of history with that. I really love what I do.

I met this one young lady who had had two or three aneurisms. She didn’t want any more surgeries, but she needed another. She asked if I would go with her and come in the back for prep. I promised I would be there for everything. I met her at the hospital, and she was walking by real slow. When she saw me, she had the biggest smile on her face. We went in the back, and the nurse and the doctor were talking, she didn’t ask a question. I knew there were questions that she should’ve been asking, so I would ask it. When they left, she said, “Oh, I’m glad you asked that question. I was scared to ask it.” I told her that she has to advocate for herself. You’ve got to be comfortable doing that. I went and got her some balloons while she was in surgery. I tied them to the bed so when she woke up that’s the first thing she would see.

I had a couple of patients that weren’t going to their appointments because they were afraid. I would sit there with them and hold their hand. If they wanted me to come in the back, I’d go in the back with them and ask questions. When I was at Bayview, I was always a part of the morning rounds with the doctors and the nurses. I would give them suggestions or ask them questions. Often, they would call me and say, “Miss Veda, would you come to the next appointment with this patient?” The doctors and the nurses were respectful towards me. I actually worked with two doctors that did home visits with me and a case manager. A doctor that actually showed up at the house for the home visit. It was exciting to bridge that gap.

I didn’t call them patients. I called them members to make them feel more connected. Some members would say, “I don’t like that doctor.

That’s why I don’t go to that appointment.” I’d say, “Well you have a right to switch doctors.” So, in rounds, I would bring it up with the doctor, whatever their concern was. I would also give members a little pad and say, “Write down every question you have for the doctor, and you ask that question. If you feel like you are being brushed off, let me know.

Maybe next time I can go in there with you.” As for the doctors, I really don’t know whether they changed their behaviors with their patients.

When I was working for Johns Hopkins HealthCare, they called ten of us into a meeting. I thought they were giving us updates because they were under new management with a whole new CEO. They told us we were being let go as of December 31st, 2019.

I was 65 then. It looked like they were letting go of all the CHWs that were the first on the scene. People were asking some really valid questions, the supervisor kept saying, “It is what it is.” I was mortified. Well, I went to HR about that because, to me, that was unprofessional. Somebody from HR must have said something to her because she held a Zoom meeting to tell us how much she respected us. I said, “Well, you know, it was really no way to justify that to me, as far as I was concerned. If you are in a supervisor position, that’s something you should know. You don’t sit people in a room, tell them they are losing their livelihood, and then say, ‘it is what it is.’” That knocked the wind out of me. I felt hurt. I felt betrayed. I’ve been up on a wall at Johns Hopkins HealthCare as Employee of the Month. I was one of the very first CHWs in that the pilot program— before they were even called CHWs.

I met Donnie, actually, when I came into recovery. I may have had like 30 days clean. In October, I’ll have 22 years, and Donnie has about 24 years clean. I talk to Donnie every day because he’s my sponsor, too. He has his own business now, helping new treatment facilities. He’s good with holding groups and all. He said I could get my peer specialist certificate at Turnaround Tuesday. Even though a peer specialist does the same thing that a CHW does, it has the addiction component.

People are offering me jobs, but I was having a hard time recovering from Hopkins. Turnaround Tuesday helped me with that. They are helping with me to heal. I deal with chronic depression. I had no self-worth; my self-esteem was low. But I listen to God and take His good orderly direction. I’m just taking it one day at a time because I love helping people. We gotta do it in His time, not ours. I’m still a certified CHW. That they couldn’t take, and that has really enriched my life.

Doctor Fingerhood, who was the first doctor I met at Bayview, worked with addicts in comprehensive care. Now, I actually do volunteer work with him. On Mondays, he works at a suboxone clinic at Amazing Grace. I met Andrew the supervisor of the outreach department, and he wants to hire me. I said, “Wait a minute, Andrew.

I’m trying to get my certificate for peer specialist.” Andrew keeps texting me, telling, “Well, Veda, when you gonna get your certificate because I am interested in hiring you.” I said, “Here we go again…”