In early 2020, when I walked into class for the first time to train as a Medical Assistant, an obvious truth was right in front of me, so evident; but I did not notice. I had been painfully preoccupied with all the preparations required for going back to school. When you are doing it on your own at age 47, trying to also balance a life and another job, it takes all your time: the paperwork, the vaccinations you need, the textbooks you must purchase (at a very reasonable price….), the equipment you need, where you have to go, that sort of thing. But I had squared all these things away. I was ready to learn.
I was admittedly overwhelmed by my surprising mid-life crisis to enter healthcare. I had read through the aforementioned, completely reasonably priced textbook before class started. It was over 1000 pages, and that little voice in the back of my head, the one that still nags at me when I go to work, though much quieter now, was at full volume: What the hell are you doing! But on January 7th, 2020, into class I went.
I am a shy person by nature, and was still overwhelmed and nervous, so I saw a few of my classmates (we were a class of nine to begin with, and a few of us were already there), nodded my head, tried to smile, and took a seat.
The first few days were chaotic. Our program was a hybrid learning system, with in class lectures and clinical training, and at-home, online training modules. My opinion of the online training modules is still not settled. The jury is still out. More on that later. But we all had to learn how to log into the school’s system, we all had to make sure we had all the right equipment and uniforms (I had the wrong color scrubs… more on my instructor in a moment), and all of us, including myself, had endless questions. My instructor patiently addressed all of our concerns, but this chaotic orientation process took a few days.
As things settled down, and I began to learn, I was fascinated by my new decision. I knew I had made the right choice. My instructor was a seasoned Medical Assistant, impeccably dressed, with perfect hair, named Jason. I’m a confident heterosexual, and I have no problem with anyone’s orientation, but Jason was a fine looking man. Sometimes I wondered…. he must have had to get up at four in the morning to work on that hair. Perfect hair, always.
By the second week, we were splitting off into small groups. I got to know my classmates more and more, an interesting bunch. We were all older than your classic college students, all coming from careers that had driven us to make a change. There was Fairahn, a demure American Muslim woman who turned out to be smarter than she thought, gaining confidence; there was Teri, a beautiful woman who always looked like she was about to kill someone; there was Jane, who I never quite figured out; there was Joni, a busy mother who struggled at first but turned into one of our best students; there was Janet, a CNA looking to advance, and was a seriously ineffable person, that I still struggle to figure out; and there was Helen, who had a resting bitch-face that could make a honey badger back off.
Wait a minute, I thought. I’m the only male.
I had no problem with that. Perhaps that was just the way the dice rolled. I certainly did not dwell on it; I’ve always believed that women were just as capable of doing any job that a man could do, and vice-versa. The difference is when it comes to reproduction, but vocationally, I’m glad that women are slowly breaking the glass ceiling: the US military, construction, IT, and now a female Vice-President. We would have had a female President in 2016, (I imagine things would be quite different now), except for that Pact with Hell known as the Electoral College. But I digress; I don’t like to talk politics here.
Like I said, it didn’t bother me, at all, that I was the only male student. One day, after class, I asked my instructor about this, and he replied that the field of Medical Assistant is definitely a female-dominated industry.
He wasn’t kidding: https://datausa.io/profile/cip/medical-assistant#demographics
93% of all Medical Assistants in the United States are female.
I have searched all over this unwieldy behemoth known as the internet, and I have asked professionals, as to why this is. There does not seem to be a concrete answer, other than the time-honored tradition of gender stereotyping. Which needs to stop. And in healthcare, it slowly is.
The fact that I was the only male in my class never bothered me at all. I was raised by progressive parents, and, as I mentioned, the glass ceiling needs to shatter.
But it shatters slowly. In the United States, 3.5% of firefighters are female. 39.9% of financial analysts are female. Women make up 9.9% of the construction industry. 19% of software developers are women.
There are dangers to ‘gendered’ jobs: https://www.businessnewsdaily.com/10085-male-female-dominated-jobs.html
When one Googles the question: What is a male nurse called? (this actually happens), the answer comes up: nurse. Among the more conservative elements of our society, labeling a job as ‘female’ can diminish its authority. There are financial dangers as well. Female Medical Assistants, on average, make about 88% of what their male colleagues do, and men are more likely to be promoted. This pay discrepancy is in no way isolated in healthcare; on average, across America, women earn 82 cents for every dollar a man earns: https://blog.dol.gov/2021/03/19/5-facts-about-the-state-of-the-gender-pay-gap#:~:text=1.,for%20many%20women%20of%20color.
But it was never an issue in my class; we all became friends, a team, and the fact that I was male never became an issue. We all had a group text-chat, and kept in close touch when we were out of school. Remember that at-home, online learning? If one of us was stuck, no problem. Text the gang!
I became great friends with the class alpha, Helen. She was the one with the resting bitch face that could stop the blast effect of a nuclear weapon. Our gender differences were never an issue. There was no sexual tension; we were two dedicated students who wanted to do our best. As our school year went on, and we were presented with harder challenges, some quite unexpected, we backed each other up. She was the Furiosa to my Max; two people who found themselves in a difficult situation, and supported each other to get through. Fury Road. Brilliant film. Anyway…
Eventually, I was employed at a clinic here in Seattle. I was ready to go when I graduated in December 2020, but healthcare practitioners need to obtain a license from the Washington State Department of Health. Usually, that’s a one or two week process. Due to Covid (I’m thinking that will be an excuse for long delays for a very long time), the process took about 3 months. I started at the clinic in early April.
Well, what do you know! There are six Medical Assistants at my clinic… and I’m the only male. There’s Kelsea, the seasoned veteran who could run the place but would rather not; there’s Tammy, who, like myself, is a goofball who takes her work seriously but not herself; there’s Pam, who may seem cantankerous and hostile, but is actually quite supportive, and a brilliant MA; there’s Lonni, another seasoned MA who loves to wander around and see if people need help, which I love; and there’s Anne, the quiet, taciturn one. They are an incredibly seasoned group; a few of them have been at the clinic for longer than ten years, and I’ve learned a lot just by watching them work. Experts, all of them. And, like school, I have encountered no gender discrimination, at all. In fact, we even have a male nurse. Who’s a Canadian smart-mouth, like myself. Only I’m not Canadian.
What I have noticed in healthcare is that nearly all of the supportive roles, from CNA up to ARNP, are predominately female. However, with MD’s, the glass ceiling is breaking quickly. I have worked and met many female physicians. Each one capable, each according to their gifts.
My own feeling is this: the gender stereotyping is hard-wired into society’s heads, and has probably been around for a very long time. I know nothing of anthropology, but, at the risk of oversimplifying things, a very long time ago, men were expected to go out and hunt, and protect the tribe, while women were expected to tend to the village and care for the young. This evolution continued into the modern age; where men do the hearty, rough, dangerous things, with unnecessarily large pickup trucks, while women are expected to keep the house and raise the children. But it doesn’t work like that anymore, it can’t. To make ends meet, both partners need to work, and hell, any female can use a firearm, be an astronaut, or a member of Congress. Why, just look at Marjorie Taylor…. Eh. Very poor example.
I have never encountered it, but there can be gender discrimination against males in the Medical Assistant vocation. Many male MA’s are not taken seriously by deeply conservative patients, doctors, and the general public. Men in this role are more often perceived as effeminate or otherwise inadequately masculine (me? No on the former, definitely on the latter). This discrimination could possibly be due to the concept that men are not adequate caretakers. What a load of BS!
On the other hand, many patients can feel more comfortable with a male Medical Assistant, especially male patients. If the patient has a deeply personal problem, they may find it easier to relate to another male.
Though I have experienced no discrimination of my own, and I have never been treated differently because I am a male Medical Assistant, the problem continues in our society at large. Women are just as capable as men, and should be treated not just as equals, but simply fellow human beings. The glass ceiling has many cracks, but our society still has a long way to go.
So I go to work each day, surrounded by estrogen. It doesn’t bother me at all. I’m here to be the best Medical Assistant I can be. If all of my coworkers are female, so be it. As long as you’re cool and can do the job well, preferably the former, you’re okay in my book. I’ve found that it gives me a different perspective, to experience the female side of society. But that is secondary. I need to learn how to find the damn vein for venipuncture, first. And if a female Medical Assistant helps me with a blood draw, I have no problem with that at all.