Since the spring of 2020, Molly Humphreys, hailing from Shepherdstown, West Virginia, has captured images of workers at the Berkeley Medical Center (BMC) and its surroundings, resulting in a rich tapestry reflecting the multifaceted realities of health care in Martinsburg, West Virginia. With a focus on portrait photography, Humphreys had not engaged with the health care sector until I extended an invitation for her to collaborate on Healthcare is Human, a project I initiated to chronicle my experiences as an internal medicine physician on the frontlines of the COVID-19 pandemic. Her photographs have since woven compelling narratives that challenge the worn-out negative stereotypes often associated with life and work in Appalachia, stereotypes so entrenched that their detrimental effects often go unexamined.
Humphreys has dedicated her career to portrait photography, and through this medium, she has cultivated a refined awareness of what shapes individual identity. Her work has fascinated me for years; her subjects seem to radiate in natural light, each one portrayed with care and consideration. She possesses a remarkable skill for conveying intricate stories through singular, unforgettable images. Since my invitation in 2020, Humphreys has photographed a diverse range of workers, authentically presenting a spectrum of skin tones, eye colors, hair types, ages, occupations, and roles within health care. While she delves into various themes in her work, I particularly find her portraits of women to be both refreshing and captivating.
A particular photograph that lingers in my mind is of Laura Shade, who was serving as the unit clerk on the sixth floor of the BMC at that time. Laura is seen wearing a surgical mask, and Humphreys captures the subtle stitching along the top edge—an aspect that highlights the meticulous nature of the personal protective equipment we relied on during the COVID-19 crisis. Framed by her white-blond hair, her hazel eyes are captured in sharp detail. With wispy, golden strands apparent, Humphreys uses Laura’s hair to give the photograph a sense of movement, despite her positioning within a generic, slightly blurred door frame that still suggests a health care environment.
The sleeve of a white blouse adorned with a royal blue floral pattern casts a shadow, revealing a tattoo of Medusa, depicted in a muted blue and silently stoic. Even at the center of the composition, Laura’s thoughts remain ambiguous, and close examination offers no clear indication of whether she is smiling, frowning, or embodying another emotion altogether. Medusa gazes off into the distance while Laura engages with the viewer, offering a glimpse into a rich inner world that raises more questions than it resolves.
Humphreys portrays a strong woman who, amidst the height of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, exudes courage. Dressed smartly, with a visible hospital ID, the viewer perceives an intelligent woman—one integral to an essential role. Her beautiful feminine features are illuminated in splendid light, yet they serve as part of a complex story artfully crafted by a skilled artist. Ultimately, Laura stands in stark contrast to the one-dimensional caricatures of Appalachian women that have prevailed in cultural representations for decades.
In 1964, a provocative photo series titled “The Valley of Poverty” in LIFE magazine influenced many Americans to view Appalachia as a region marred by disaster. These images from eastern Kentucky by photographer John Dominis functioned as a form of “poverty porn” and, combined with the immensely popular TV show The Beverly Hillbillies, which aired from 1962 to 1971, created a potent cultural narrative detrimental to Appalachia. Many Americans felt they didn’t need to consider rural women deeply, as they were depicted as impoverished, backward, tribal, and lacking intelligence. At the same time, well-off suburban housewives observed on their new television sets as Neil Armstrong made his historic moon landing in July 1969. Appalachian women faced further challenges from the hyper-sexualized representation of Daisy Duke in The Dukes of Hazzard, a show that aired from 1979 to 1985. Daisy’s only semblance of autonomy within Hazzard County was depicted as standing by the roadside in a bikini or serving drinks to men in a bar called The Boar’s Nest. The cultural impact of The Dukes was absorbed by an entire generation, further perpetuated by its endless reruns on cable television.
Humphreys’ photographs portray women fulfilling roles as ambulance drivers, cafeteria personnel, pharmacy technicians, ER nurses, physicians, social workers, diabetes educators, physical therapists, administrators, and many others. A significant number of these women engage in “traditional” roles focused on caregiving and nurturing, such as nursing and social work. However, many others undertake physically demanding labor in kitchens, facilities, maintenance, driving equipment, lifting, and assessing patients in the field—the nature of