Kamika Cooper
“my healer”
digital photography/illustration
response

Art and Science in Medicine
By Urmilla Khanna
Inspiration piece

“Jonathan has an earache?” I said in a half-angry voice as I took an emergency phone call from Mrs. Martin and fumbled to turn on the bedside lamp. It was three a.m.

“Yes doctor, I am sorry to disturb you at this hour, but he has been crying non-stop all night. I have given him Tylenol every three hours instead of every four as you usually recommend, just to help us get through the night, but it has not helped at all.”

I heard Jonathan’s wailing in the background and my anger turned into empathy. I listened to mom’s story and assessed the situation. Jonathan had been well and had been playing outdoors for long hours that day. It had been a hot and humid week in Washington D.C. He did not have fever, cough, cold or sore throat. The pain came on rather abruptly, sometime after his shower in the evening.

“Well, you have two options. You could run him over to an emergency clinic or would you rather wait to see me in the office. I could see him the first thing in the morning,” I said.

“If I take him to the emergency room, I will probably not be seen for three or four hours, anyway. I’ll call your office and come see you the first thing in the morning,” mom said.

I was in my office at nine the following morning, browsing through the day’s schedule. Mrs. Martin walked in soon thereafter. She was carrying four-year-old Jonathan propped up on her shoulder, her face anxious, her hair disheveled.

“Let me get you settled in a room,” the nurse walked the patient into room #3. She often referred to this room as the room with a view because it had a large picture window. Jonathan’s piercing cry penetrated through the walls and closed door of the exam room. I knew I had to attend to him right away. I came to the doorway of room #3 and spoke directly to Jonathan. “I am going to come and see you in just a minute and mom and I are going to see if we cannot make your pain any better.” Hearing my voice his howling changed to quieter sobs. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can,” I reassured him.

I collected his chart, my stethoscope and otoscope and walked in to see Jonathan. He was sitting on the table clutching on to his teddy bear and blanket. His eyes were red and swollen, teeth chattering, face smudged with tears and mucus. I let a few minutes go by letting mom vent about her fretful night. As I stood listening, I was wiping tears off Jonathan’s cheeks. He blew his nose into the tissue I held up for him. Next, I helped him lie down, covering him with his blanket and tucking his stuffed toy beside him. I ran my hands over his brow and hair, gently massaging his scalp, giving him more time to settle down. Now I looked at his throat, his nose, his right ear and finally went to the offending ear. There was no surprise for what I saw. He had a flaming red and swollen ear canal, making it impossible for me to view the tympanic membrane. He had external otitis, commonly known as swimmers ear, a very painful condition. The warm humid summers of Washington DC area are notorious triggers for this kind of yeast infection in children’s ears.

I explained it all to mom and discussed my treatment plan. I would pack the ear canal with a wick soaked in a medicinal ointment. The child continued to listen intently.

“I’ll ask the nurse to get the tray ready and I’ll be back shortly,” I was now speaking directly to the four-year-old. Before I left the room, I took another moment to explain the procedure to Jonathan in a language that he would understand. As I spoke, I was stroking his limp forearm and clamp, sweaty belly. His anxious eyes were no longer a stream of tears.

As I was stepping out, he sat up on the exam-table, smiling. “Can we go home now?” he said to his mother. “My ear is all better.”

That ear was a ball of fire and was surely extremely painful. I had felt the stinging pain myself as I was examining him.

Jonathan had taught me a lesson that I have never forgotten—the healing power of touch—a lost art in present day medicine.

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Susan B
“Dreaming”
digital photography
Response

You Did
By Kamika Cooper
Inspiration piece

thank you

for all the things you taught me
for all the smiles you brought me
stopping to say hello even though
didn’t feel like speaking at all that day
but you did

for getting those systems back up quickly
for fixing those end dates swiftly
staying up late to meet tight item deadlines
thinking all the time you would never make it
though you always did

thank you

for cadillac benefits in spades and bunches
for all those bagels and surprise lunches
making all of those hard decisions
while executing innovation and vision
yes you did

for entertaining my cache and cookie reminders
for being awesome seekers and fact finders
smiling right through those information lines when
you weren’t always met with smiles in kind
you always certainly did

for all you have done i am infinitely grateful
for all that you are i am forever thankful
for all you will become amid change remain faithful

i wish you every good and beautiful thing

and i always did

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Susan B
“Portal”
digital photography
Inspiration piece

Rendezvous
By Kamika Cooper
Response

i never understood how love could be forbidden
as if what exists between you and me
is anyone else’s business or concern
as if what is felt by you and me could somehow
call others’ views into question or denounce their religion

we have to steal glances from across crowded streets
because if our eyes lock for too long one of us
could be taken away to some unknown place
because if we speak of our longing danger would be waiting
around every single corner as if we are the real danger

that is what would happen if our love for one another was known

so all we have is this space in the hills over our city
the occasional rendezvous to re-profess our love
never knowing if this one will be our last one
the occasional meeting where i find myself peeking through
the window with nerves on edge until you arrive into my arms

why can’t we just stay here?

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Kamika Cooper
“earlybyrd”
digital photography
Inspiration piece

Morning Twilight
By Darice Shatteen-Jones
Response

I woke up at dark thirty (as we call the deep night in some parts of our African diaspora) and thought about shirking my responsibilities and just driving down the 5 from the Bay Area to LA. I could go to Dockweiler beach and have a chat with the Orisha of the ocean, Yemeya. I could connect with my old roommate, the powerful stud rapper, who used to be coupled with the dramatic femme stripper. I could go to Agape spiritual center and get a shot of euphoria, as it can only be delivered by Michael Beckwith, in a hall full of positivity junkies. I could connect with my fellow film director who had a brain so fierce she could just as likely be an astrophysicist as a micro-indie filmmaker. I could hook up with my wild party friend who loved to dance, to sing, and most especially to get it on.

That ridiculous thought was the one that snapped me out of my reverie and made me remember I live in cold ass DC now. It’s Winter and there will be no watching the sunrise over the hills while rolling down the highway eating Trader Joe’s fake jerky and thick yogurt cheese.

No. Here in this paradox of US political poison and historically holistic Black upward mobility activism, I am left to focus on surviving the cold. If you ever want an immersion course in self-care, just move to a place with a windshield factor of -10 on a day where you’re expected to arrive at work by 8am. If you’re like me, a Cali kid, you have to get up at 4am just to start getting ready – to take care of yourself in a way that’s just not required on the ever-sunny West coast. This day would be no different. I needed hours to adjust emotionally to the idea of walking outside when my entire being was telling me to turn the heat all the way up and stay in bed under my mink blanket watching Grey’s Anatomy. I also needed hours to actually bundle up enough so that my face, hands, and feet were not literally frozen on the way to work.

I’m a photographer, recently hired by the DC’s Center for the Study of Social Policy to take 100 photos that could evoke feelings of isolation in the audience. My images will be used by the organization to make a case that class has an impact on how different communities experience isolation. The consultants the center has hired believe that they can use a study of 200 people, 100 from high investment areas of DC and 100 from underserved areas, to prove that while isolation is undesirable for affluent people, it can be lethal for those without resources.

The project is not too much of a stretch for me right now, since living here away from everything I’ve ever known is definitely bringing up feelings of deep aloneness. For the first time in my life, I’m noticing the absence of things rather than seeing everything as abundant. It’s depressing – like really depressing. Or at least it was until this morning. I was still wiping newly formed gunk out of my eyes, riding in the back of my Lyft at 5am when I looked ahead and saw it. A completely empty road that seemed to be vibrating with life despite the fact that there were no people, no animals, and very few plants lining the street. The morning twilight seemed to be winking at me. Street lights seemed to laugh out loud. The road itself seemed to be conspiring with the sky to create each hefty breath. My Lyft driver, Kyle, was clearly startled when I shouted, “Stop!” He jammed on the brakes and turned around to me exhaling an elongated, “Biiiiiiiiiiiitch, what?”

I choked out an awkward laugh while I gazed into his big Yoruba looking eyes and observed his shiny Mahogany skin. He smelled like Nag Champa and shea butter. He looked like hella dudes I knew back in Oakland. My face must have embodied the apology I didn’t utter because Kyle’s expression softened. I grabbed my camera. “I have to get this shot. Wait for me?”

He rolled his eyes, but nodded a yes. As I got out of the car and planted myself in the center of the road, I heard Kyle’s window rolling down. “Really, girl? Really?” he exclaimed as I took about 20 quick pics, squatting down, with my feet firmly planted.

I ran back and hopped in warm, shea-smelling car. I was out of breath from my short but emotion-laden foray into the ridiculously cold and surreally alive empty street. I knew the image would be an acceptable representation of isolation for the Center researchers, but my heart was telling me to keep this particular image for use in my own projects.

There was something about Kyle, the sparkle of the morning, and the celestial street that seemed to inhale my isolation and exhale universal connection back into my near-frozen veins. Since I’d moved to DC, I had never felt less alone.

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Kamika Cooper
“currentsurfer”
digital photography
Response

This Time Around
By Darice Shatteen-Jones
Inspiration Piece

I wanted to be the bird
But I was the air
Expanding everything that pulled me in
Holding things up
Without being seen
Always in motion
And never really tired

Y’all shoulda told me I couldn’t be that bird
Or created me without a love for community
Or without a love of the freedom that only comes from flying together

Air is everywhere
And no one appreciates abundance
Until it is gone
And things start to die

Y’all coulda had me be different air
The kind that is not conscious
That wants for nothing
That prefers just being
Without passion
Without direction
Without desire
Without life

But instead you betrayed me
And in all my being

Everywhere

Having seen almost everything

I haven’t seen a way
To forgive you for that.

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

“Hey Hey Baltimore” (Music)
By Amy Moffitt
Response

Hello Baltimore
By Kamika Cooper
(Poetry and digital photography)
Inspiration piece

i’ve heard a lot of bad things about you
heard you set them up and leave them to die
never wanted to be anywhere near you
pressed on the gas and sped right on by

you’ve got a nasty reputation
neighborhoods bathed in surveillance blue
streets overflowing with confrontation
no hope left when the night is through

but i’m going to join you on your journey
i hope you welcome me with open arms
let all your hills and your history claim me
let go of the fears and presumption of harm

prove me wrong with my snobby existence
your harbor is the gateway to my ancestry
i know i will fall in love with you in an instant
hello baltimore, are you there? it’s me

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.

Whereever You Go There You Are
by Amy Moffitt
music and digital photography
Inspiration piece

Here I Am
by Kamika Cooper
Response

here i am but it’s time to go

long before my welcome has worn out
i have packed my bag and made a plan
i don’t have to question the getaway
mine is a calculated departure
beginning in the mind echoed in the heart
and carried by legs and feet
all moving in unison to a new destination

here i am though it’s time to grow

don’t misunderstand me or my way
i may opt to move far from you
but i will never move away from self
you have seen me persevere because
acceptance is the foundation for survival
the notion of giving up is a facade
there is power and strength in moving on letting go

i am here despite the things i know

staying too long leads to complacency
the challenges of this journey are endless
and it is not always easy to rise to them
but trying to control things i cannot change
threaten to drain and deplete me slowly
there’s always a chance to get it right another way
that’s why i never hesitate when it’s time to go

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Note: All of the art, writing, and music on this site belongs to the person who created it. Copying or republishing anything you see here without express and written permission from the author or artist is strictly prohibited.