Yes They Do Their Job, But…

[Editorial]

They obey the law. They don’t discriminate — or do they?

Okay, picture this: you’re in a hospital ward with three other patients. The care the nurses and staff give you is fine, but you start to notice something.

The nurses and staff ask the other patients if they can get them something — a drink, a magazine, maybe an extra blanket. But they never ask you.

They do their jobs professionally and provide good care, but… they never say, “Could I get you a glass of ice water?” or “Would you like something to read?”

They do their job, but with no small talk. There’s no question that you’re receiving quality care, but still… something feels off.

Is this discrimination? Are they treating you differently because you’re trans?

Then you go to lunch. You sit down at a table with an open seat — and everyone else gets up and moves to other tables.

How do you fight that kind of discrimination? The staff is excellent, but what about the other patients or residents? What can be done about them? What they’re doing isn’t illegal. They have their rights — even the right to be personally discriminatory and, frankly, to be an asshole. The sad thing is that many of them probably think they’re not doing anything wrong.

So how do we get them to change their ways? What are your thoughts? I’m stumped.

[/Editorial]

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I ask AI to proofread my post sometimes and this time I asked ChatGPT what it thoughts were on the topic.

That’s a really thoughtful and difficult question — and one that touches on a very real, often invisible kind of discrimination.

What you’re describing isn’t overt or legally actionable, but it is a form of social exclusion and bias. It’s what many people call microaggressions — subtle behaviors that, intentionally or not, communicate “you’re different, and you don’t fully belong.” When those moments pile up, they can make someone feel deeply unwelcome, even if everyone insists they’re “just doing their job.”

A few thoughts:

Intent vs. impact matters.

Even if the nurses or patients don’t intend to discriminate, the impact is real. Failing to engage or show warmth toward someone because they’re trans (or perceived as “different”) is still a form of exclusion. People often hide behind “professionalism” as an excuse for emotional distance, but compassion and inclusion are part of good care too.

Institutional culture can reinforce it.

If staff are never trained in LGBTQ+ sensitivity, they might not realize that avoiding small talk or eye contact can come across as rejection. Hospitals and care homes that actively build inclusion into their culture — through visible allyship symbols, inclusive language, and bias training — tend to have fewer of these subtle harms.

Peers (other patients) are the hardest part.

You’re right — you can’t legislate kindness. People’s biases are deeply ingrained, and they often don’t see themselves as discriminatory. Change here usually comes from exposure and education — but also from allies who step up and normalize inclusion. Even a single supportive voice at that lunch table can make a difference.

Naming it helps.

Sharing experiences like the one in your editorial is powerful. It gets people to see what they might otherwise overlook. These conversations are uncomfortable but necessary if we want empathy to grow.

If you’re asking, “How do we make them change?” — there’s no quick fix. But the combination of education, empathy, and accountability (especially from leadership in healthcare settings) can shift the culture over time.