To Anyone Who Has Ever Wondered If They Belong Here

June is Pride Month. For many people, Pride is a celebration. For others, it is a reminder of how difficult it can be to simply be yourself.

As I thought about what I wanted to write this month, I found myself thinking about my LGBTQ colleagues in veterinary medicine. The ones who may not feel safe coming out. The ones who have spent time wondering whether they would be accepted if they showed up as their authentic selves.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this feeling is not unique to one group. I think almost everyone in veterinary medicine has wondered at some point if they truly belong here.

Sometimes it is because of sexual orientation or gender identity.

Sometimes it is because you are neurodivergent.

Sometimes it is because you are a working parent trying to balance competing responsibilities.

Sometimes it is because you are an introvert in a profession that often rewards confidence and extroversion.

Sometimes it is because veterinary medicine was not your first career, your path looked different than everyone else’s, or you simply never felt like the stereotypical veterinarian.

And sometimes, it is because of something almost every one of us experiences: imposter syndrome.

There is always someone who seems smarter. Someone who remembers more. Someone who can recite a drug dose from memory or diagnose a complicated case in five minutes.

Veterinary medicine attracts incredibly driven people. We are often perfectionists. We are high achievers. We care deeply about doing a good job.

That can make it very easy to look around the room and wonder if everyone else has it figured out except you.

I know I have felt that way.

There was a period in my career when I went from working in a five-doctor practice to being the only doctor. Suddenly, I was looking at a future that involved working open to close, being on call every day, and carrying the weight of the practice on my own.

I remember thinking: “Maybe this job is not for me.”

That wasn’t because I didn’t love veterinary medicine or helping my patients. I had these thoughts because the path in front of me felt impossible.

Looking back, I realize that moment was not really about medicine. It was about belonging. It was about wondering whether there was a place for me in a profession that often felt like it demanded more than I could give.

The truth is, I still do not know that I always feel like I fit in. What I do know is that where I am now is the closest I have ever felt to being seen. And that has made all the difference.

When people feel psychologically safe, they contribute ideas, ask questions, and admit mistakes. They collaborate, innovate, and bring more of themselves to the table.

The best medicine, the best leadership, and the best teams I have ever experienced did not come from environments where everyone thought the same way, looked the same way, or had the same life experiences. They came from environments where people felt safe enough to be themselves.

The cost of not having that safety is higher than we often realize. It shows up as burnout, turnover, and isolation. It shows up as talented people leaving the profession because they are exhausted from carrying the weight of the work and the weight of hiding who they are.

No one should have to change who they are to make other people feel comfortable.

That is something I have been thinking about a lot lately as a mom as well

Recently, my daughter and I had a conversation about self-expression. We talked about makeup, clothes, style, and the pressure that kids often feel to fit in.

I told her something that I wish more people had heard growing up:

Other people’s opinions are not facts. They do not determine your worth. What matters is whether you are kind. Whether you are honest. Whether you are true to yourself.

If those things are in place, then the rest tends to follow, and I think the same is true in veterinary medicine.

Whether you are LGBTQ, neurodivergent, a working parent, a second-career veterinarian, an introvert, or someone who simply feels different, your value is not determined by how closely you match someone else’s idea of what a veterinarian should look like.

Our profession needs your perspective and your experiences. Our profession needs you.

One of the most important lessons I have learned as a leader is that inclusion starts with curiosity. We cannot assume everyone has had the same experiences we have. We cannot assume we understand what someone is carrying or what shaped the person standing in front of us.

But we can listen. We can learn. We can make room for people whose stories are different from our own. And we can build workplaces where people feel safe enough to bring their whole selves to work.

As Pride Month reminds us, belonging matters.Of course, for our LGBTQ colleagues, friends, and family members, and also for anyone who has ever wondered if they were enough.

The same thing I tell my daughter is true for all of us: You do not have to change who you are to make other people feel comfortable. 

Veterinary medicine needs kind people. Honest people. Curious people. People who are willing to show up as themselves.

I hope you find your people. I hope you find places where you feel seen, valued, and supported for exactly who you are.

When that happens, we feel empowered to do our best work. We build stronger teams. We create healthier workplaces. And we discover that belonging is not just good for us as individuals. It makes our profession better, too.