Why this shot matters to me
As the supply of COVID-19 vaccines is about to surpass interest in vaccinations, VCU Health is launching a public health campaign to increase vaccinations in Richmond, particularly among groups with lower vaccination rates: young people, Black and Hispanic populations and small-town, rural Virginians.
The campaign — “this shot matters” — uses photos and personal stories of real Virginians explaining why the COVID-19 shot matters to them. The public health campaign directs people to the Virginia Department of Health if they wish to sign up for vaccination.
In advance of this week’s campaign launch, participants — among them Virginia Commonwealth University students and employees and members of the greater Richmond community — sat for interviews with VCU Health and shared their hopes for the end of the pandemic, and why this shot matters.
Mike Rhoades
Head coach, VCU men’s basketball
VCU basketball. Being on campus. Going to games and cheering on the Rams. Those are some of the things Rhoades has missed most during the pandemic.
“Getting everyone together is what we do, and when that was taken away from us, there was a void,” he said. “It was great being with the players and coaches this season, but it was an empty Siegel Center. It wasn’t the same.
“It’s still months away, but the vaccines get the Rams closer to the return of 7,637 fans in seats once again. And when that happens, I can’t wait to see our players’ faces, their excitement and how fired up they will be to run out of the tunnel to Ram Nation. There’s nothing like it.”
Getting the shot means not only a return to favorite activities but the people you love, Rhoades said.
“It’s not about you. It’s about everybody around you,” he said. “It’s about that older mother or older grandmother or great-grandfather you have. It’s about going into school, or going to church every Sunday knowing the person in front of you or behind you is safe because of you.
“I believe that if you take care of those around you, things will come back to you tenfold. We all need to do our part.”
The Rev. Stephen L. Artis
Executive pastor, Cedar Street Baptist Church
When Artis took the job as executive pastor of Cedar Street Baptist Church in June 2020, the mission was clear: Get food to those in need.
So over six weeks last summer, volunteers at one of Richmond’s oldest African American churches distributed 12,000 boxes of fresh produce and frozen meats every Saturday morning. Lines of cars wrapped around the block, serving members throughout the community and as far north as Fredericksburg.
“This shot matters because it’s an act of care for other people. It’s not about me,” said Artis, who had a mild case of COVID-19 in December. “This is for everyone I come in contact with. I got vaccinated because I want other people to still go out and love life.”
The pandemic gave Artis a greater appreciation for life — one that he can take forward now that he’s gotten the vaccine.
“I was one of those people, who, I was not always managing my time well, especially when it came to time spent with loved ones,” he said. “I would work — work when I really could have been at home. I would come home dog-tired and not have any energy for my family.”
Whether vaccine education, food disparity or social justice reform, Artis says the role of the church going forward in a post-COVID world is to be part of the solution — not just the conversation. “We cannot sit and have a conversation without going out and being a part of the solution,” he said.
Todd “Parney” Parnell
Vice president and chief operating officer, Richmond Flying Squirrels
The resumption of baseball at The Diamond on May 4 — be it at limited capacity — came after 610 days without the Richmond Flying Squirrels ever taking the field.
For Parnell, the COVID-19 shot matters because it means putting into play priorities people have been forced to reassess over the course of the pandemic.
“You saw families working in their yard together, taking walks around the neighborhood. You saw all kinds of things that should have been happening anyway, but weren’t,” Parnell said. “Now what might seem like an average day in my life is now a really special day.
“The things that we’ve learned from COVID are things we need to carry on in our life after COVID — having dinners at home, or not feeling like I have to be at the ballpark 20 hours a day,” he said. “When we go back to the normal everyday rush of life, we’ve got to make sure that the things the pandemic taught us are things we take forward.”
Dedrain Davis
Public affairs coordinator, VCU Health
Instead of dabbling in online rumors and verbal hearsay, Davis conducted her own COVID research.
“I worked with my doctor, and we talked about my lifestyle. I’ve just always thought the risk of getting COVID was higher than the risk of the vaccine,” she said.
Davis, who is expecting her second child this summer, got her vaccination earlier this year after her OB/GYN said it was safe. The FDA and CDC have found no safety concerns regarding the COVID-19 vaccine and pregnancy.
This shot matters to her because it keeps her family safe. For her 3-year old son, Taj, the vaccine opens up a whole world for him to explore. For Davis’ parents, in Minnesota, they can safely visit this summer to welcome a new grandchild.
“But what made getting the shot more urgent is that young people were being hospitalized with COVID, and Black people were dying from COVID,” she said. “And being both of those kind of upped the urgency for me.”
Davis said she respects the right of pregnant women to make their own choice regarding vaccination.
“I think this is one of those times in history and health where it’s not just a blanket recommendation for everybody,” she said. “You really weigh a lot of personal factors and lifestyle factors as a pregnant woman. But I think after doing the research and considering your lifestyle and family, and noticing how many people are going out into the world who are vaccinated and still healthy, I would recommend getting the vaccine if your doctor thinks it’s OK for you.
“I’ve had no issues. My baby is healthy and moving. We’re on track for a healthy delivery,” she said. “I just wouldn’t want a pregnant woman to be worried about fighting off COVID on top of all the other concerns that come with being pregnant. And being pregnant in a pandemic is a huge thing in and of itself. That can be really heavy. Taking the vaccine has given me that extra layer of comfort.”
James “Plunky” Branch
Jazz musician and saxophone player
As jazz venues shuttered last year and music faded from the stages, Branch found the whole scenario unsettling. Then, watching the news one evening, he was moved by the story of a woman in Italy whose rooftop violin performances echoed notes of resilience throughout her town. That gave him an idea. His own instrument of hope would be his saxophone, and his Rosewood Avenue porch near Byrd Park his stage.
Branch erected a sign outside his home announcing free nightly concerts, and word spread on social media. He wanted to reach people — socially distanced people — with his music.
The saxophone performances drew neighbors of all ages and colors to his porch — including a 15-month-old boy whose parents made sure he finished his dinner on time to attend Branch’s shows.
This was an individual he would likely have never met if it weren’t for his COVID-inspired performances, he said. “I’m a Black man and he’s a white kid, so that had some poignancy to it,” Branch said.
That’s why this shot matters to Branch: It’s a path to hope and normalcy. As the virus continues to take its toll, he wants to perform for crowds filled with people who, like him, have heeded calls from the experts to get vaccinated.
“I’m a musician by trade, but I went to college to major in chemistry, which means I’m a scientist at heart,” Branch said. “This is what’s required of us as a society to maintain some level of public safety. We cannot do it alone. Everybody has a role to play.”
James “Plunky” Branch
Jazz musician and saxophone player
As jazz venues shuttered last year and music faded from the stages, Branch found the whole scenario unsettling. Then, watching the news one evening, he was moved by the story of a woman in Italy whose rooftop violin performances echoed notes of resilience throughout her town. That gave him an idea. His own instrument of hope would be his saxophone, and his Rosewood Avenue porch near Byrd Park his stage.
Branch erected a sign outside his home announcing free nightly concerts, and word spread on social media. He wanted to reach people — socially distanced people — with his music.
The saxophone performances drew neighbors of all ages and colors to his porch — including a 15-month-old boy whose parents made sure he finished his dinner on time to attend Branch’s shows.
This was an individual he would likely have never met if it weren’t for his COVID-inspired performances, he said. “I’m a Black man and he’s a white kid, so that had some poignancy to it,” Branch said.
That’s why this shot matters to Branch: It’s a path to hope and normalcy. As the virus continues to take its toll, he wants to perform for crowds filled with people who, like him, have heeded calls from the experts to get vaccinated.
“I’m a musician by trade, but I went to college to major in chemistry, which means I’m a scientist at heart,” Branch said. “This is what’s required of us as a society to maintain some level of public safety. We cannot do it alone. Everybody has a role to play.”
That summer in Richmond was strange and surreal — a turning point in the historic city’s story, one in which Confederate monuments fell. “But it was also really positive in a lot of ways, with a lot of ugly things we’ve seen,” Criqui said.
“It’s been really good to see our community come together to try to address systemic racism and these historical symbols, which have been up for way too long,” he said.
This shot matters to Klein and Criqui because everyone will be able to gather again safely as a community, they said. The pandemic made last summer’s protests risky in terms of exposure to the virus, but crowds also were necessary to send a message.
“That was the thing hanging over all of last summer — knowing we needed to come together and rise up to deal with this moment in time. But also, everyone had the specter of the pandemic hanging over our heads. You had to be very careful about what you were doing,” Criqui said. “If I care about my community, this vaccine is what I can do. It’s pretty simple and painless. Sometimes you have to just trust in human goodness. There’s not some sinister plot behind this. It’s about saving lives.”
This past year, he said, “we’ve all been able to sort of take a step back and think about the type of lives we want to live, what’s actually possible, what actually is essential, what’s actually important, and what it means to be part of a community. And I hope that we come out of this valuing that connection a little bit more and what we can accomplish together.”
Sana Natividad
Biomedical engineering student, VCU College of Engineering
As head lifeguard for VCU Recreational Sports, Natividad is trained to save lives. Since the pandemic, that’s included keeping a distance and encouraging others to do the same.
Now that life-saving vaccines are available, keeping people safe means getting vaccinated, Natividad said. That’s why this shot matters. “I want to make sure my family is safe, all my friends are safe,” she said.
Before the vaccine became available, Natividad did her part by ending her trips home to Fredericksburg, where her parents live with her grandfather and younger sister. Since getting vaccinated, she and other vaccinated relatives have vacationed in the Outer Banks.
“If you haven’t got your shot yet, you should,” she said. “It was so convenient and easy. It’s a step in the right direction towards a normal life.”
Juan Santacoloma
Multicultural outreach specialist, Chesterfield County School System
“COVID-19 does not differentiate your skin color, language, nationality or immigration status,” Santacoloma said.
Black and Latino communities have borne the brunt of COVID infections and deaths due largely to socioeconomic factors and the fact that many are frontline workers who can’t work from home. Santacoloma spends his workdays educating Latino families on the importance of the vaccine to get kids back in classrooms. That, he said, is why this shot matters.
“There are many misperceptions among the Latino community about the vaccine, and our job is to let them know the truth about the vaccination — why they need it, and why the whole family needs the vaccine,” Santacoloma said. “The job is reinforcing to these people that the vaccine helps us make sure the schools are safe for them.”
He wants immigrants who may distrust the vaccine to ask questions. “If you don’t know something, ask. Don’t believe those who are not familiar with the reality,” he said. “Call your health department, call your doctor. Ask those people who know the truth.”
Saleh Smadi
Student, VCU School of Dentistry
Smadi saw what COVID-19 did to his family in Jordan. The virus sent his mother to the hospital, took his aunt’s life and spread to Saleh’s father and siblings.
“Before anybody started to have symptoms, the whole family was infected,” Smadi said. “If you want to protect the ones you love, this vaccine matters.”
Feeling isolated in this age of social distancing, Smadi felt limited in his ability to play a part in fighting the coronavirus. About a year into the lockdown, he heeded a call put out by VCU seeking student volunteers to administer vaccines. He was one of more than 2,400 students and staff who responded.
Smadi participated in vaccine clinics at Children’s Hospital of Richmond at VCU, the Richmond Raceway, churches and other sites. And that’s why this shot matters to him — it’s a way to help others.
“It’s our ethical duty to help each other through this health crisis,” he said.
Heba Abbassy
Patient experience coordinator, VCU Health
Abbassy proudly wears not one but two buttons announcing her COVID-19 vaccination. Protecting each of us relies on all of us, she said. “It’s a duty we all share.”
The vaccine offers her the opportunity to visit family members in Egypt. It’s been years since she’s seen them.
“Our family is like that movie ‘My Big Fat Greek Wedding.’ We always have everybody’s mother’s mother, neighbors, cousins, uncles, aunts, or like somebody-we-don’t-know-but-they’re-our-cousins come over,” Abbassy said. “I miss those gatherings.”
Before COVID-19, she felt divisions among people based on socioeconomic status, color or culture. Everyone seemed to be in their own world, she said. “But with COVID, it’s brought everybody together because we’re all one.”
This shot matters to her because it reflects how everyone’s looking out for one another.
“As much as I feel like I’ve missed out this year, I do think it was a blessing in disguise in some ways because it allowed us to sit and reflect on how important our health and safety is,” she said. “We were all concerned with things like where we’re going to travel, money or what we’re going to buy next. And at the end of the day, when COVID hit, all I’m worried about is my health and safety. That’s what matters.”
Jordan Matamoro-Mejias
Pre-med student, VCU College of Humanities and Sciences
Matamoro-Mejias knows why this shot matters: It saves lives.
The VCU pre-med student saw the effects of the virus firsthand when his parents got it. Both recovered. But COVID-19 has put a spotlight on racial health disparities, he said, with people of color being disproportionately impacted and lacking equal access to quality care.
Matamoro-Mejias is president of Black Men in Medicine, a group founded at VCU to address the scarcity of African American physicians and other health care providers. He is also co-founder of VCU P.R.IM.E. (Pre-Health and Related Interests Mentoring Experiences), a student-led initiative to support minority students in their journey toward becoming health care practitioners.
Matamoro-Mejias understands the skepticism many people feel toward vaccines, particularly among Black Americans. He’s confident, though, that getting the COVID vaccine will curb a menace that runs deep in that community.
“I do understand the concern,” he said. “There’s plenty of mistrust due to the historical trauma. But this is something different, and if we don’t get our vaccines, people will continue to lose their lives.”
Faron Hamblin
Warsaw town councilman, musician
Hamblin is the first to admit he thought the dangers linked to the coronavirus were overblown. Getting COVID-19 changed all that.
After a positive test result in December, Hamblin isolated himself in his Northern Neck home as his fever spiked, chills gripped his body and his energy waned. His joints hurt so badly he couldn’t play the guitar, and he felt so drained he couldn’t sit up.
“I was one of the naysayers of the virus. I thought if I get it, I’d brush it off,” he said. “But I didn’t brush it off. I had a very easy path compared to a lot of folks that I know, but it was a horrendous two weeks.”
After what he went through, the town councilman needed no further convincing to get the vaccine. Now fully vaccinated, Hamblin looks forward to playing country music with his band again before live audiences — as long as they’re vaccinated.
“I want people to be able to enjoy the summer, and I think we can if everybody gets vaccinated,” he said.
“I live to play music every weekend, and that was taken from me with this virus. We have a range of an audience, from [ages] 21 to 75 and up. I don’t want to feel responsible for playing a venue where there are people there that aren’t vaccinated and very vulnerable. You need to respect your neighbor. You’re not just protecting yourself — you’re protecting someone else’s grandmother or mother or sister.”
That’s why this shot matters to Hamblin. He knows firsthand what can happen without it.
“I know there are folks out there that don’t trust the vaccine, but the alternative is not worth it,” he said. “I just hope that people who won’t be as lucky as I am don’t wait for COVID to affect them before they decide to get the vaccine. It’s like playing Russian roulette.”