Beyond the Banners: The Quiet Cost of Pride

by Anthony Tannous, MD, FACS

This is a special edition blog post presented in partnership with the Association of Out Surgeons and Allies in celebration of Pride Month.

June bursts forth in a riot of color, a seemingly utopian vision of equality and dignity, often accompanied by a healthy dose of corporate branding. Around the Western world, joyful — and perhaps slightly inebriated — celebrants reclaim public spaces, belting pop anthems and radiating pure, unadulterated queer joy. This year, however, the glitter feels heavier, the music a little more poignant. The comfort and acceptance we’ve come to expect are under strategic, relentless attack.

Bigotry has shed its hood and robe for tailored suits and eloquent speeches. It occupies podiums, commands microphones, and infiltrates mainstream podcasts. They begin, as always, with the most vulnerable: our trans siblings. But history, that unsparing teacher, reminds us that the target will inevitably widen to include all whose difference threatens the fragile comfort of uniformity and challenges a monochromatic worldview. In this chilling context, Pride is not just important; it is vital.

So why, then, does the exuberance of the celebration feel… uncomfortable to me? Why do I scroll through social media posts proclaiming, “Love is love” (especially if you’ve diligently sculpted that Pilates body all year) and find myself overwhelmed with sadness? I’ve tried to deconstruct this feeling, tracing it back to my own unlikely journey.

I am a proud, out gay man. My coming out began at 28, amidst the grueling demands of surgical residency–a quiet ripple that slowly widened into a wave of truth. I was born in Lebanon, a land of tenacious beauty ravaged by war. As a shy, overly sensitive, tall kid with acne, I learned early that safety lay in self-containment, in building and inhabiting my universe. Good grades became my currency for affection, my entire personality. Scholarships and academic excellence became my ticket, naturally leading me to the “most impressive” career: medicine.

Surgical training in Lebanon, however, was steeped in a toxic machismo–a hostile environment for women and anyone remotely queer. Cisgender heterosexual men thrived at the expense of all else, their dominance reinforced at every turn. It became clear: to live authentically, I had to leave. My academic prowess opened the doors to the United States. At 25, I immigrated; at 28, I landed in Texas.

Through trials and triumphs, the path to an authentic life meant shedding the armor, coming out, and embracing my true self. I found my chosen family, my tribe, my unwavering support system. Twelve years on, I’m still working on my pride, a journey made easier when your government, workplace, and community offer their unwavering support.

Yet, this isn’t the reality for many. When I speak with international immigrant residents and surgeons, most live double lives; they come to the U.S. seeking truth, but sometimes find the path back home less clear. While their loving families celebrate their achievements, their queer selves might remain shielded. They maintain two social media accounts, two distinct lives. Even their American friends, well-meaning as they are, often don’t fully grasp the immense stakes. “Be loud! Take up space!” they exhort, but at what cost?

Pride comes at a steeper price when it demands extracting yourself from the very structures that shaped you. While a grand, color-coordinated wedding in Lebanon or raising children within the embrace of my large, supportive Lebanese family may not be my path, my story of pride is built on self-acceptance, on a meticulously cultivated chosen family, and on the quiet, profound freedom of being authentic in my daily life. This is the untold narrative of countless gay and lesbian immigrant doctors. To truly champion them is to understand and celebrate their brave decision to leave their armor behind, to walk a path of authentic pride, and to build a life where their true selves can flourish.

Anthony Tannous, M.D., is a Clinical Associate Professor in the Department of Surgery at UT Southwestern Medical Center. He specializes in emergency and trauma surgery. He also has a focused interest in critical care and trauma education for surgical residents and medical students.

Dr. Tannous earned his medical degree at the American University of Beirut Medical Center in Lebanon. He completed a residency in general surgery at the Johns Hopkins Hospital and the University of Texas Health Science Center in Houston and gained advanced training in surgical critical care through a fellowship at the University of Maryland R Adams Cowley Shock Trauma Center. He has since practiced in both rural and urban settings and in both community and academic settings. 

In addition to his clinical duties, Dr Tannous mentors numerous students and residents through their surgical and trauma training. He serves as an associate program director for the surgical residency and as the director of the UTSW Surgical Launch program aimed at preparing medical students and preliminary residents to succeed in the Match.