Let’s all share a collective sigh of relief: we’ve reached Election Day. No matter which party you support, you’re likely feeling either exhausted, disgusted, or both. The campaigns, which have been plagued by scandals, conspiracy theories, name-calling, racism, xenophobia, sexism, and confusion regarding the existence of the city of Aleppo, will likely begin to fade into history. Yet after such a contentious battle, political parties have shifted drastically, and the campaign rhetoric may remain newsworthy well into the next president’s term. And perhaps rightfully so.
Women account for the majority of the United States’ population, however we continue to be treated as a special interest group. This year’s Republican presidential candidate has called women offensive names, complained that his Democratic opponent was “using the woman card,” and threatened to sue the many women accusing him of sexual assault. Trump has perpetuated a dangerous (and debunked) subterfuge that his accusers are lying to gain fame and fortune. Research shows that only 2-10% of women who report sexual assault do so falsely, and a presidential candidate who continues this falsehood is creating a dangerous situation for women everywhere.
These practices silence women. It is unsurprising that so many women do not report sexism, harassment, or assault and often choose to stay silent for years. There are examples of women who do not report these cases across all socioeconomic classes, geographic areas, and professions.
Female medical students and physicians have endured institutionalized sexism for as long as women have be permitted to attend medical school. Since beginning my third year of training and spending most of my time in hospitals and clinics, I have often been called sweetheart, honey, darling, and nurse by my patients. I have been awkwardly hugged by male patients without giving consent and been told, “Well, aren’t you a pretty thing?” In front of an older female physician, a patient said to me, “You can take care of me because you’re prettier than the doctor.” When standing beside male colleagues, I am most often assumed to be the nurse or medical assistant.
This is not an individual experience. I have spoken to women in my own medical school and others scattered around the country who also receive inappropriate comments. One student was once told, “You’re a lot prettier when you smile” by a male faculty member. Another colleague was instructed to “shake hands like a lady” when she offered a male patient a firm handshake. When I asked female students for their examples, each one explained to me their frustration over being mistaken for a nurse or medical assistant. This may seem like a benign oversight, but this assumption is demeaning and delegitimizes our role in the healthcare system (and is offensive to nurses as well).
Women in medicine, in addition to listening to their own patients’ experiences with sexual violence, are often at the receiving end of harassment and misogyny and may find ourselves in the same position as Trump’s victims—staying silent. Most of the students I spoke with chose not to report these cases, because they assumed their concerns would not be taken seriously or felt that nothing could be done. Others did not report due to fear of receiving worse treatment in the future.
There are worse examples still. One student caught a physician staring at her backside while pushing a COW (Computer on Wheels) down the hallway. The same student was asked if she went into medicine because her modeling career didn’t work out. And the worst example I’ve heard by far—a physician invited a student to the Phoenix Open, a golf tournament where, he explained, women showed up dressed as either “sporty slutty” or “just slutty.” Per the student: “When I politely and professionally declined his invitation, he responded with, ‘Well, if you don’t come, how am I going to know what kind of slutty you are?’”
While complaining to my boyfriend recently about a much less offensive but outwardly sexist comment I received, he asked me if I had reported the issue. “Of course not,” I replied. If female medical students spoke out about every moment of sexism they experienced, it would dominate our conversations. But his question is valid. What should we do? How do we decide when to speak out versus when to disregard these inequities? Many agree that when faced with an elderly male patient or physician you are almost expecting to receive a sexist comment and sometimes are pleasantly surprised by their professionalism. This is an unfortunate presupposition.
In writing this article and speaking with my colleagues, I was comforted by the fact that I am not alone. However, feelings of camaraderie do not ameliorate discrimination. There are policies in place for reporting that affirm zero tolerance for retribution, but they need to be repeatedly emphasized. Those policies must be made clear when hiring new workers and should be reiterated periodically, no matter how long employees have held their positions. Consequences must be made clear. Additionally, victims should not be the only ones to carry the burden of reporting. Any person who witnesses acts of sexism should feel compelled to report. Men need to stand up for their female colleagues when they receive inappropriate comments from other male physicians, and women should feel empowered to speak up not only for ourselves but for each other. Lastly, and perhaps the greatest challenge, is addressing these issues with our patients and knowing when it is appropriate to remind them that sexism and discrimination will not be tolerated by providers. We cannot effectively do our job if we are not treated with the same respect our male colleagues receive.
We are not thin-skinned students complaining about petty comments; we are professionals entering a field that still requires a great deal of change to equally include women and minorities in its ranks. So maybe we should not immediately forget about the events of election season 2016. Whether we elect our first female president or not, sexism remains a visible problem in medicine, and we should all feel responsible for our role in creating a nondiscriminatory environment.
Michelle Blumenschine is a medical student in the Class of 2018. She holds degrees in film & TV production and journalism & mass communication from New York University and completed her pre-med post-bac certificate at Columbia University. Before moving to Phoenix from New York City, Michelle worked as a documentary film producer. She enjoys making to-do lists, drinking craft beer, and collecting National Geographic magazines. She is pursuing a career in obstetrics and gynecology.