Takeaway
When patients see caregivers who resemble them, it can deepen trust and improve their experience of care.
Passion in the medical profession | March 20, 2026 | 2 min read
By Zachary Obinna Enumah, MD, PhD, MA, Johns Hopkins Medicine
“Can you give him my heart?” These were the words spoken by the sister of a gun violence victim in Baltimore. Young, black, and male. These patients often look like me. He had arrived at our trauma bay, and we did everything we could to save him, but we couldn’t. In the sister’s question was deep empathy and love for her brother. It was harrowing and humbling—all at the same time. That moment crystallized for me why being part of the first all-Black house staff team on the Hopkins Trauma Service, and who we are as a team, matters so much.
An honor and a legacy
Growing up in Columbus, Georgia in the 1980s and 1990s, I was the youngest of four children of an interracial couple. I observed my parents making history in their own way—my mom was a family medicine doctor, and my dad was a general surgeon. They showed up every day to serve patients. They weren’t thinking about making history. But they were.
That’s part of the Black experience in America—including at institutes of higher education and in academic medicine. We show up. We work. And we try to build something that outlives us, hoping to inspire someone else to do the same. My parents’ example showed me how visibility and service shape others’ ambitions.
Visibility matters
No healthcare professional wants to see anyone come through the trauma bay needing help. But I’m grateful when it gives patients, especially the younger generation, a chance to see people that look like them in action. Because there are so many more out there—Black or minority doctors, nurses, surgeons, entrepreneurs, leaders—than young people realize. And here’s the thing—young people aspire to be what they see. So, they need to see us, the same way I did in my own upbringing and educational journey, I needed to see giants—people like Vivien Thomas, Levi Watkins, Charles Drew, L.D. Britt—people who made pathways we’re walking now. People like my dad.
Finding something in common with every patient
One of my mentors in trauma surgery gave me a very practical tip. To summarize it, “I try to find something in common with every patient.” It can be a shared background or hobby, food, something seen recently on the news—anything that invites connection. Because if the purpose of medicine is to understand and serve people, then taking care of those we share something in common with—that’s sacred work.
This piece expresses the views solely of the author. It does not necessarily represent the views of any organization, including Johns Hopkins Medicine.