Lesbian, gay, and bisexual medical students are packing up their stethoscopes and leaving school more often than their straight peers — and while the study doesn’t spell out why, the pink elephant in the room is impossible to ignore: discrimination.
A recent analysis of data from 2014 to 2017, pulled from the Association of American Medical Colleges, found that 4.2% of bisexual students and 3.7% of gay and lesbian students dropped out of med school, compared to just 2.4% of their heterosexual counterparts. The numbers were self-reported by students, who also disclosed their race, age, and gender — though the study didn’t touch gender identity, leaving out trans and nonbinary voices entirely.
And the stats get worse for queer Hispanic students, particularly those navigating multiple layers of identity. The highest attrition rates were among LGB Hispanic students — both male and female — who, the study suggests, are often hit with a double whammy of homophobia and cultural conservatism. “Rigid expectations around sexuality and gender expression” are cited as potential reasons they may feel alienated or unsupported in their programs.
Medicine’s Diversity Problem Is Still Alive and Unwell
So what’s going on in America’s hallowed halls of medical education? The researchers stop short of confirming the root causes, but they don’t mince words either. LGB students, they say, experience discrimination during their training — and that hostile environment might be pushing them out before they ever earn the MD.
And it’s not just about hallway bullying or passive-aggressive professors. The lack of institutional support — especially for LGB students of color — means that queer students are left to navigate toxic microcultures alone. For Hispanic LGB students, the situation is particularly fraught, given traditional gender norms that clash with queer identities and a lack of culturally specific resources in medical schools.
These trends matter, not just for equity, but for the future of queer healthcare. If LGBTQ students are being forced out of medical training, the pipeline of affirming, culturally competent care providers shrinks. In short: fewer queer doctors means fewer safe spaces for queer patients — and that hurts everyone in the community.
What Needs to Change?
The researchers call for further investigation, including attention to asexual, pansexual, and transgender students who were left out of the original data set. Future studies should explore how different marginalized identities intersect — and more importantly, how institutions can stop treating these students like they’re disposable.
Bottom line? Med school might be hard for everyone — but it’s even harder when you’re queer. And until medical schools start acknowledging and addressing the systemic rot behind these numbers, we’ll keep losing the future Dr. Houses of the LGBTQ world before they even get their scrubs.