Evil Estrogen Empire - The Silent Menace

Nurses General Nursing

Published

As I sit back and reflect on my 23 years of health care employment I mediate on those things that have inspired and discouraged me in these endeavors. In my various roles and responsibilities I would sometimes find myself at odds with "the establishment" and for the most part understood the conflict I encountered.

But then I entered nursing and discovered that this profession had it's own version of the "good old boy" network that a CRNA friend of mine described as the "evil estrogen empire". Granted this is not a flattering term but was a catchy phrase to describe a certain clique in nursing that seemed to resist the idea of men practicing nursing.

I have read countless threads on the various flavors of this subject and can see that there exists substantial difference of opinion on the etiology or even the existence of this phenomenon.

The real question is this, if you accept the premise that men in nursing are subjected to various negative stereotypes, gender bias and other forms of discrimination what is the best approach to redress these grievances.

Should men just ignore the problem and hope that things will get better or should they become more proactive on this issue and attempt to educate others on the consequences of such behavior?

-HBS

Specializes in Med-Surg, Trauma, Ortho, Neuro, Cardiac.

I think I'll gracefully bow out of this conversation. I removed a post above.

I understand what the OP is saying, and I understand the swift responses and where they are coming from as well.

I've nothing further productive to add.

Thanks for your input 3rdShiftGuy. I am sorry you had to remove a post as I feel it important that all viewpoints be shared in a constructive manner without fear of reprisal.

-HBS

As a former sailor and in response to "SmilingBlueEyes" I submit the following:

Bitterness of The Sea

Translated from the original French by Catherine Wieder

The sea awaits its open call, looks for its waters, desires the blue, spits and clutches and falters when it breaks its bark and shell, and the brittle slate of its steeples, and all the glasses it emptied and then threw away behind the bushes.

The sea screeches at night and fluffies before falling asleep, its head cuddled amid its arms, resembling a fearful child, seeking in the quiet night ideas of dawn and turmoils, a little more wine, a little more wind and light, just a little oblivion.

Its huge engine-like heart collapses in its blue ; its easement begs its wages of salt : a few drops, a little bread, such a clear plunder, not even enough to reach the open sea after so many waves stirred up for so long !

It longs to part with the sky who manipulates it, fawns upon it, or boos it : O for those wings it misses when the horizon is at point blank range ! Will it ever see its dawn rising within a woman's Christian name ?

It has neither body nor flesh to belong to, it comes back from nowhere and talks amiss, it dreams of other things, it speaks and dreams thingumajigs : why not admit that time at noon ends at the bottom of a lake ?

People believe that blue forms and surges right on its eye-lid : people believe it to be mad and it only grieves, uselessly dreaming of twigs and roots, sitting as it is on some kind of leather suit-case right at the end of the beach where no one would come and pick it up.

What darkness, what light surges in its numbed head of a sitting woman ? Its arms are wide open to welcome those children coming from the vast seas. What a delight in her exciting their laughter and splashes, in bathing their naked feet and licking their light skin.

But living is none of its business. It never tells its desire, feverish as it is of both images and shores ; it won't go any further than this very sorrow, of an impossible lavender-blue hue of former love letters and handkerchieves bathed in tears.

Here it is, sepulchre-grey, with all this void around it, picking death with a brisk kiss, sucking its stone and spitting the fruit, staggering along like forlorn memories, hushing prayers, breaking the very pot it has emptied just after the dream.

Its heart is a chasm starting, night after night, the same doomed day, singing with the same voice, blurred with turmoil and noise, wandering along, cleaning its wounds and always uselessly pursuing its water poor in love.

*Here's hoping that I can overcome the bitterness born from my nursing experience in the years to come. Until then good luck to you in all in your endeavors.

-HBS

Specializes in Specializes in L/D, newborn, GYN, LTC, Dialysis.

very cool post, hb. I hope you find peace as well. I truly do. I do not want to see good men leave nursing due to such perceptions. WE need every qualifed "hand on deck" we can find! Men are no different!

Thanks "SmilingBlueEyes" as I too share your sentiment. I still believe that once reality is strong enough to counter the negative perception of male nurses then things will improve in the nursing profession and nursing practice.

I look forward to that day and then perhaps you and I can smile together and know that indeed we have come a long way.

Peace Be With You.

-HBS

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