The new attending pulled us aside after morning rounds. I would be the intern on his team, along with a senior resident and some medical students. I pulled out a notebook from the bulging pockets of my white coat, ready to jot down notes about his patients or write words of wisdom. “I expect the ladies on my team to wear dresses or skirts with high heels, hair styled, and make-up done. Men should wear shirts and ties.” I was too stunned to speak. I looked around hoping to find another shocked expression; however, the team was conveniently mostly male.
I was scheduled to be on call that night. I packed my bag with snacks, a thermos of caffeine and headed out the door in scrubs and sneakers. As soon as I got into the residents’ lounge, the pager went off as it was placed in my hand. The ER was hit hard that night with a steady stream of admissions. The moment I thought I had caught a break in between calls from the floor nurses, I would lie down on the couch and close my eyes, only to be jolted awake with order requests from the ICU.
Before I knew it, the sun had risen, and it was the first day of service with the new attending. Notes in hand, I dashed up the stairs two at a time and got to the nurse’s station just in time. He looked me up and down with complete disapproval. My hair was in a haphazard ponytail and my glasses were sliding down the bridge of my nose as perspiration beaded at my forehead. My eyes were bloodshot, and the wrinkles of my baggy scrubs disguised by a zip-up fleece.
The click-clacking of stilettos down the hall caught the attending’s attention as we both turned to see one of my fellow residents walking out of a patient room, her coifed hair and fitted black dress bringing a smile to the attending’s face. His head snapped back to me as I started presenting, from memory, every single patient I had admitted. Every order, medication and patient concern listed with precision.
It was his turn to be too stunned to speak. I watched as disapproval turned to respect. And for the rest of the month on his service, I never wore heels or a full face of make-up.
Aneesa Sataur
Olympia, Washington
7 thoughts on “How a Female Doctor Should Look”
this only confirms that the way way for women to succeed is to be better at what they do than men, not what’s appropriate for the situation
In the 1960s, I was clinic supervisor for a Planned Parenthood Center. Tere was a monthly board meeting which I attended and whose president was a woman dentist. I woke late for one particular meeting and grabbed a nice pair of pants, not jeans. A couple days after the meeting, I received a letter from the board president, stating that a lady never wears pants to a meeting. I had been seeing a therapist at the time and when I told him about this, he was flabbergasted and asked if I was joking. About two weeks later I was fired.
So here we are 60 years later, and its the same old, same old.
I had a similar experience. There was a contract law class that I wanted to take in college. It was full. The professor said he would let me in if I sat in the front row and wore a dress. He too thawed after the first exam, when he said my argument was the best he had ever read. My personal experience is that it was brutal being female in the “transition” generation, when women were trying to break into professional roles in much greater numbers. It saddens me that this kind of treatment is still hanging around, which means that someone in management is tolerating it.
I ran treatment units as a psychologist. Those floors are slippery so they can be kept clean easily. Heels to work? Never. I would have been on the floor a number of times. The man should have been required to wear them for a day!
in over 30 years of practice have never been addressed or spoken to like this. If this actually true the male attending should be reported.
Well done you. So so sad that this revolting view of women as objects continues.
You did well to challenge his viewpoint .
All too accurate in medicine sadly. Way to stick up for yourself and sticking it to the man!