It was dawn—probably the initial appointment of the day. The music in the waiting area hadn’t even been activated yet, and the aroma of coffee was just starting to fill the air. After a few moments, I was summoned into a room and settled into the exam chair, already dressed in scrubs and mentally ready to dash off to work afterward. In fact, I was already crafting a to-do list in my mind. I appreciated having the opportunity to focus on my own health amid a hectic schedule—but was also anxious to return.

The dentist soon arrived and delved into an enthusiastic presentation about invisible aligners and their potential benefits for my jaw discomfort. “You likely have a lot of stress from your job as a nurse,” he remarked at one point, jolting me out of my mental list-making and back into the room. My awareness sharpened. All I could manage was, “Doctor. I am a doctor.”

This presumption caught me off guard in ways it hadn’t before. This was certainly not the initial occasion I had been mistaken for a nurse. Perhaps what impacted me this time was how swiftly my role had been assigned to me, based purely on my clothing and my symptoms. Unfortunately, this experience is far from isolated. The belief that women in scrubs are nurses perpetuates outdated gender stereotypes and diminishes the visibility of female physicians and professionals in different medical roles.

Medical training has historically been dominated by men, resulting in divisions, silent expectations, and frameworks in curriculum and training that have endured for years. To illustrate, in 1950, women constituted only 6 percent of physicians, which was believed to be due to the difficulties of balancing a career with domestic responsibilities. In contrast, according to AAMC Physician Specialty Data Reports, 37.6 percent of the physician workforce and 53.8 percent of U.S. medical students in 2022 were female. Simply put, even now, at least one in three physicians and one in two medical students is female. So why does the stereotype continue—that men in scrubs are doctors, while women in scrubs are not?

I understood how ingrained this stereotype is during discussions with fellow residents. Many of the women shared similar experiences; the men, however, expressed surprise. One even confessed, “That’s never happened to me.” Although this was just the beginning of a larger issue. I have heard further accounts of male medical students receiving more respect in interdisciplinary meetings or direct patient care than their female senior residents—and even patients requesting their female doctors to fetch coffee in the morning during rounds. I anticipated that training would be challenging—but I did not expect one of the difficulties would be having to consistently affirm that I am, in fact, a doctor.

So—does it matter? This is a question I have grappled with over time. Initially, I thought these anecdotes would serve as humorous stories I would share later, but as I advanced in my training, I recognized the harmful nature of these stereotypes. Remarks like the one I encountered, even beyond my own professional setting, undermine credibility, reinforce gender biases, and perpetuate microaggressions. Moreover, stereotypes suggesting that women in medicine must be nurses overlook the wide range of roles women occupy in health care—even outside of physicians: researchers, medical assistants, administrators, pharmacists, NPs, or PAs.

Now, when collaborating with learners of varying levels and backgrounds, I always take care to ask how they would like me to address microaggressions during our teamwork. This indicates to the learner that I am aware of their inevitable nature, though I do not tolerate disrespect toward any team member I am honored to work with. In turn, I hope to convey that every role on the team is respected, regardless of gender, background, or race. I believe modeling this type of professionalism aids in shifting the culture toward one that actively combats bias and stereotypes.

I acknowledge this may be a deeply rooted institutional problem, yet I urge you to reconsider those “traditional” gender norms in medicine, especially since over half of medical students are women. I aspire to inspire women in health care to claim their titles and correct misconceptions unapologetically, while also encouraging men in the field to maintain their support in enhancing the culture of a profession that can significantly influence one’s life. We must all be educators and advocates—promoting health care professionals not for their attire, but for their training, contributions, and expertise in their respective domains.

Emma Fenske is an internal medicine resident.