Young Doctor’s Job Hunt Reveals Shocking Sexism in Healthcare!
Life can throw us into a whirlwind of emotions—desperation, uncertainty, confusion, or perhaps a flicker of curiosity. We’ve all been there.
After completing two fellowships—one in oncology and another in palliative care—I found myself at a crossroads, eager and desperate to explore my career options. Unfortunately, my city didn’t boast many opportunities due to the scarcity of oncology centers, which pushed me to consider healthcare facilities in surrounding areas.
One city, just a two-hour drive away, caught my eye. It may have had limited oncology facilities, but I had my sights set on a couple of hospitals there. Sure, the cultures between the two cities differed slightly, but they still belonged to the same country, so why stress?
With friends already in that city and a comfortable place to stay, I prepped my documents and set off on my new adventure. The atmosphere was different, the people unique, but it quickly felt like a second home. I found charm in the community and warmth in the friendships I rekindled.
Some of my closest friends from first grade welcomed me back with open arms. Many of them were professionals in gynecology and radiology; while they didn’t know much about oncology opportunities in their area, they were excited to learn that there were three centers nearby.
Their hospitality was overwhelming. As I shared my plans to submit my resume, one friend opened her closet, offering her suits because she thought mine weren’t up to par. I chose a stunning blue suit—my favorite color! With the help of my friends, I was transformed: my hair was straightened, makeup done, and I was ready to make an impression.
My first interview at the hospital was a breeze. The staff exuded professionalism and expertise, but I knew it was essential to explore all my options. Many had raved about a prestigious private hospital in the area, even though it only had two oncologists. Arriving there just before 1 p.m., I learned I’d have to wait for the head of the department to return from his lunch break.
Finally, around 3 p.m., the senior oncologist, an impressive figure over 70, returned. His demeanor was encouraging as he asked about my educational background and hometown, urging me to submit my resume immediately. He guided me to the HR department, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me.
I also met the second oncologist, who, while experienced, urged me to weigh the pros and cons of moving. He raised valid points about potential living challenges and emphasized that relocating is a big deal—especially for someone like me who had never lived away from home before.
He shared his own past experiences where new hires left too soon, but he also noted my contact information, offering me tea and assuring me that he would welcome me into the role, given I could manage.
I remember that day vividly. The weather was delightful, yet as I stepped outside, I was met with a torrential downpour. So I decided to wait for the rain to subside before heading to HR to submit my resume—it felt like the right thing to do.
Evening approached, and nurses were coming and going. Just then, the head of the department spotted me and called me over.
“Did you submit your resume?” he asked.
When I explained my delay due to the rain, he nodded. Then he threw me a curveball: “Have you ever sold yourself?”
Confused, I hesitated before replying “No.”
He followed up with a series of personal questions, including whether I was married or engaged. I couldn’t help but wonder why a medical professional was prying into my personal life.
“Why are you asking all this?” I asked, but he brushed aside my question.
He insisted I should consider trying to find a partner, praising my looks and encouraging me to submit my CV. I left, feeling a whirlwind of emotions—anger, sadness, humiliation, and confusion.
When I shared my experience with friends, they were shocked. It’s one thing to be asked personal questions, but coming from someone with such professional stature felt utterly inappropriate.
“Is it standard practice to question young female physicians like this?” I wondered aloud. One friend mentioned that while personal inquiries happen, they shouldn’t come from seniors. It felt jarring to be treated this way, especially by someone old enough to be a grandfather.
As they rallied around me, with jokes and support, I couldn’t shake the feeling that societal expectations often lead us to blame women who seek employment far from home. It’s not shameful to chase career dreams, particularly when local opportunities are scarce.
“Maybe next time skip the blue!” a friend joked, lightening the mood.
It made me ponder—why do we spend so much time telling our daughters how to dress, yet ignore teaching our sons to respect women? It shouldn’t matter where a woman comes from; respect should be universal.
I thought of all the female patients facing breast and gynecological cancers in that area, missing out on treatments from a female oncologist. What a loss for them.
Though I felt down for a day or two, my friends lifted my spirits. We explored the city, sampled delectable local cuisine, and indulged in laughter—exactly what I needed.
As I prepared for my last interview, I questioned whether I should change my approach. But then I realized—I shouldn’t have to alter who I am. I walked into that final interview just as I was, with the same hair and blue dress.
This last visit was unforgettable. The consultant was patient and understanding, even though there were no positions available. He reassured me, “I understand your concerns. You’re talented; trust me, you’ll be okay!”
His encouragement made a lasting impression on me. Even without a current opening, he accepted my CV and promised to keep me in mind. It felt incredible to be treated with genuine kindness and respect.
It’s ironic: we often criticize women for “wasting” their degrees by becoming housewives, yet when they strive for demanding careers, we push them back. Our society sends mixed signals; we urge ambition but shun those who defy conventional paths.
It’s crucial for young doctors, especially women, to research the reputation of prospective workplaces beforehand. I refuse to be left feeling like Dora the Explorer again, lost and confused.
I trust that the universe provides for each of us in unique ways, and I won’t allow discriminatory experiences to deter me. After years of hard work and dedication, I believe female physicians should focus on opportunities where they can make a significant impact.
It’s time to break the silence surrounding the challenges faced by women in medicine. The unfair discrimination they encounter is simply unacceptable.
Young physicians must know they’re not alone in feeling intimidated, insecure, or lost when navigating job prospects. Even if senior doctors can’t provide direct help, they should treat newcomers with the respect they deserve—because someday, the tables may turn, and they might rely on those same young doctors.
Inspired by the journey of a dedicated resident in radiation oncology.
