A few weeks after medical school started, I wore my white coat for the very first time. I brimmed with excitement and anxiety. The crisp white coat was a little too large and the diaphragm of my new stethoscope, awkwardly slung around my neck, kept slamming against my shoulder as I briskly walked towards the hospital shuttle.
"Hey there, sexy!"
I abruptly stopped in my tracks. I quickly glanced to my right to spot an older, scrawny white gentleman peering out of the window of a van. Our eyes briefly met as he jeered. I quickly looked away and climbed onto the shuttle as fast as I could.
I was shocked. While women unfortunately experience street harassment all too often, didn’t this white coat mean that I would be safe from such cat-calls? Wasn’t the white coat a clear sign of wisdom and respect?
On day one of wearing the white coat, I collided head first with the reality that even this symbol of trust and healing couldn’t shield me from such demeaning experiences.
"Hey there, sexy!"
I abruptly stopped in my tracks. I quickly glanced to my right to spot an older, scrawny white gentleman peering out of the window of a van. Our eyes briefly met as he jeered. I quickly looked away and climbed onto the shuttle as fast as I could.
I was shocked. While women unfortunately experience street harassment all too often, didn’t this white coat mean that I would be safe from such cat-calls? Wasn’t the white coat a clear sign of wisdom and respect?
On day one of wearing the white coat, I collided head first with the reality that even this symbol of trust and healing couldn’t shield me from such demeaning experiences.