To Come Out (Again) or Not? A Surgeon’s Reflections on Identity in the Workplace

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

By Dr. Kayleigh M. Herrick-Reynolds

As I am speed-rounding to get to the OR on time, my patient catches a glimpse of my wedding ring and asks, “Is your husband a doctor too?” This question—a genuine interest in my life and a plea for the normalcy of casual conversation as I wake them at 6:00 a.m—is also just the first of many times that day I will have to choose how to answer.

Surgical training requires intense focus, commitment, resilience, and sacrifice. For anyone who does not fit the stereotype of “surgeon” or who holds a non-traditional identity, the mental choreography of deciding how much of ourselves to share in the workplace adds a layer of stress to an already high-stakes job. Particularly as a trainee, the rigid hierarchy of the surgical community can exacerbate the weight of these micro-calculations out of fear that retaliation may limit learning opportunities or create a hazardous work environment. Indeed, LGBTQ+ trainees report higher rates of bullying (74.8% vs 66.9%; p=0.005), and are twice as likely to consider leaving their residency programs (OR 2.04, 95% CI 1.52-2.74). The most frequently reported source of mistreatment in this study was the attending surgeon.

The unique decision fatigue associated with repeatedly concealing or affirming one’s identity is difficult to explain to someone who has not experienced it. Should I correct the attending who asks about my husband, when I have a wife? Do I explain to my patient that it was my wife who carried our daughter? Will this disclosure help or harm me in this situation? Do I have time for this conversation? Will I regret the answer I gave?

There are also awkward moments: “you don’t look gay” or “I’ll put you in touch with so-and-so, she’s gay too!” Although well-meaning, these comments show us how far we still have to go. Do we educate? Let it go? Choosing when and how to correct others becomes another emotionally draining task in the surgeon’s day. The culture of surgery leaves little time for reflection on these questions of identity. We are trained to speak when spoken to, blend in, grin, and bear it. Precise, efficient work and people who just get the job done are prized commodities.

I often circle back to the fact that I hope to be seen as a surgeon—not a female surgeon, not a queer surgeon. At the same time, I feel pressure to be doubly prepared and twice as qualified to ensure that my gender and sexual identities are not blamed for any small failures. As I transition into a more senior role, this visibility becomes more complex. I want to represent these identities proudly, but I wonder: how vulnerable should I be in the process?

I think about the times I have felt most safe and seen in the workspace: colleagues who remember my partner’s name and include her in casual conversation without hesitation; those who correct others on my behalf; those who share a knowing glance when a cringeworthy comment is made. The ones who wear a rainbow pin or lanyard—a small, physical reminder that says, you belong here. I am immensely grateful for their leadership, friendship, and allyship.

Ultimately, many of us just want to do the work—to be seen for our dedication to patients and our surgical skill, not our identity. Is that selfish or self-protective? There are no perfect answers, but if you have felt this tension, know that you are not alone. To answer my patients’ question—yes, my wife is a doctor. But on some days, the answer is simply “no.”

When we build spaces where all identities can coexist with our professional roles—without causing distraction or emotional turmoil—I believe we will achieve the best outcomes for our patients, our trainees, and ourselves. I look forward to a career navigating these questions and holding space for a diverse cadre of exemplary female surgeons.

Bio: Dr. Kayleigh Herrick-Reynolds is a Complex General Surgical Oncology fellow at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center and an Assistant Professor of Surgery at the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences. She completed her residency in General Surgery at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, and earned her medical degree from the Yale University School of Medicine.