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matchmaking

Surviving the Frustrating Matchmaking Process as a Female Doctor

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by Rabia Toor

Brace yourselves. I have a bone to pick.

I’m at the beautiful, tender age of 25, an age where, as a Pakistani female, I’m at my prime. I’m at my ripest, waiting to be picked like a succulent peach at the height of summer. If you reach for it too early, it’s young and immature, but wait too long, you risk its spoil and it won’t be worth a second look let alone a single dime. It’ll be passed over because it’s past its expiration date. But there’s only one problem with that analogy. I’m not a fruit. I’m a human being.

Recently Mom has been on the lookout for potential husbands for me. I’m not for marriage (totally different story), but I let her do her thing, trying to scope out the fish in the sea. She started looking the week I left for medical school, initially not compromising the fact that she wanted a physician husband, my educational equivalent as my match. Slowly but surely over the last few years, she has eventually… had to compromise.

Now, why is that?

Here we go.

Desi men and their mothers want a ‘beautiful, fair, skinny, soft-spoken’ woman to enter their homes. Now, of course, this isn’t to generalize every desi man and their mothers, however, the vast majority of them do.

The idea that women should exemplify beauty, look a certain way, never question their husbands, be submissive towards their mother in laws and put education and work on the back burner is a theme running rampant in our community. You would think that since it’s 2017, some ideals would have changed. Alas, we’re still in the dark ages.

See, my parents emigrated from Pakistan and worked very hard, between my father’s health issues to my mother learning a completely new language, learning how to drive, and working to support my sisters and I, they still managed to put me through medical school with dreams of becoming the first physician in their family. And I worked HARD. I battled depression and anxiety, I cried, I had panic attacks—it was literally all blood, sweat, tears, and more. But that doesn’t seem to matter to a lot of desi men.

I’ve had men in my own graduating medical school class explicitly say that they want a ‘pretty, virginal, housewife to stay at home.’ There is nothing wrong with being a stay at home mom. However, my issue is with men who believe that because they had the opportunity to be educated and become ‘breadwinners,’ they should get to choose their prize in the form of an attractive wife who is well versed only in the art of cooking, keeping the house clean, and looking pretty while doing.  Not only that, but their mothers chime in and state the similar ideals.

What in God’s name is wrong with a woman who goes to work, is independent, can speak her own mind, and won’t take a back seat, but rather be your equal?

The fact that I’ve received proposals from aunties saying, “we want a girl who is a doctor, but we don’t want her to work after marriage,” truly boils my blood. The fact that nearly every marriage profile I’ve seen from a desi guy says, ‘looking for a fair, slim, pretty girl’ truly boils my blood. The fact that my mother has to be the first to send pictures of me so you can do the choosing or rejecting truly boils my blood. And the fact that none of my accomplishments matter—but a gorgeous, brightened, filtered picture of me does, truly boils my blood.

The desi community is so utterly engrossed in a certain standard of beauty and a certain view of women in a marriage. I’m not wasting my blood, sweat, and tears over the last four years of my life just to sit there, look pretty and cook you perfectly round rotis since no one ever bothered to teach you how to fend for yourself. I go on interviews for residency. Not as a candidate for you to look me up and down and deem me fit for marriage or reject me based on some standard of women you think you deserve as a graduation present.

My curly hair, less-than-fair complexion, fierce opinions, hilariously loud laugh, and advocacy and educational background are what 25 years worth of sacrifice and challenges look like. If they don’t fit your standards, maybe it’s time to raise them.

In the words of Princess Jasmine, “I am NOT a prize to be won.”

physician

Recognizing the Challenge of being a Female Physician in the Medical Field

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by Hala Sabry al Nagar

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” It’s a common question we ask our youth, and I remember as a young child sharing my aspirations with family members. When I answered “I want to be a doctor when I grow up,” I received positive feedback and praise. As an innocent little girl, I had no idea that there were people in the world who wouldn’t be as supportive of a woman in medicine.

Later in life, I questioned my decision to be a physician but was always rerouted back to medicine. I truly couldn’t think of a better way to serve my community. I completed all the necessary classes, training, and board exams and through it all, I felt that I could accomplish anything I put my mind to. This is what we teach our children – if you work hard, you can achieve anything you want.

Then I learned from the female physicians in my family that the experience of women in medicine was often fraught with unique challenges including gender discrimination. After 12 years of training, when I believed I had complete control over the direction of my career, I experienced the discrimination I had heard my family speak of.

I was passed over for a leadership position while pregnant. With all of the scientific progress in medicine, it was shocking to me how far behind the advancement of women in medicine was.

I am acutely aware that my experience entering medicine does not represent the barriers many women face even before becoming physicians. After all, I was simply following in the footsteps of the women before me. How many women doubted whether they could achieve what they wanted? How many could not find women role models who overcame the discrimination and barriers imposed by society? I remember feeling hopeless when I finally realized the “status quo” in medicine, that intangible opponent whom I instinctively wanted to ignore. A woman would have to choose between her career and her family if she wanted to succeed as a physician.

I celebrated the birth of my children and simultaneously mourned the death of my career because of the ultimatum medicine has traditionally demanded. It wasn’t until I reached out to others that I realized I wasn’t alone in my frustration. Men and women alike felt the same pressure and it wasn’t just about starting a family because even women without children were being held back.

When I think of the first female physician, Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell who was accepted into medical school as a practical joke, I am grateful for how far we’ve come. But I know we still have a long way to go. The fact that women are entering the medical field in increasing numbers is a tribute to those pioneers before us who fought the bitter and aggressive discrimination of a culture that believed the woman’s place was in her home. It is not enough to appreciate how much has changed. We must continue to fight for equality and dedicate our struggle to the women behind us who are still young girls being asked what they want to be when they grow up.

This is what National Women Physicians Day 2017 means to me. This is a day for all physicians, women and men, to work towards building a workforce that represents the patients we care for. Academic research must focus on identifying not only the gaps in gender representation but also on creating solutions for our future generations. Our patients deserve to have physicians who are fulfilled in every aspect of their lives because that makes us better doctors.