Support Isn’t Political. Our Silence As Leaders Is.
A candle for remembrance. A stethoscope for our calling. A promise as a leader to create space for every member of my teams to feel safety, dignity and belonging.
“If we can understand how a frightened dog feels in an exam room, we can understand how a frightened human feels in a workplace.”
Every year on November 20, we pause for Transgender Day of Remembrance. It’s a day to honor the lives of transgender and gender-diverse people lost to violence, discrimination, and erasure. It’s solemn. It’s human. It’s heavy. But in veterinary medicine, I’ve noticed something else heavy this time of year: the discomfort some leaders feel about acknowledging days like this at all. Not because they don’t care. Not because they want to exclude. But because they’re afraid that showing support for their LGBTQ+ community will be perceived as “political.”
I hear it all the time in workshops, in conversations with peers online, in hallway conversations at conferences:
“Our job is to do medicine, not take political positions.”
“I don’t want to open a can of worms with my staff or clients.”
“What if people think we’re choosing sides?”
“I want to be supportive, I’m just scared to get it wrong.”
And every time, I want to gently say: You’re not choosing sides. You’re choosing people.
Because here’s the truth — and I say this as someone who works with hundreds of veterinary professionals every year, across every identity, generation, and geography: Respecting someone’s gender identity is not political. Using their name and pronouns is not political. Creating a clinic where people can pee safely is not political. Ensuring that LGBTQ+ team members and clients aren’t misgendered, mocked, or erased is not political.
It’s humane. It’s kind. It’s the most basic form of care we can offer another human being. And at the core of veterinary medicine — before the pharmacology, before the surgery, before the CE credits — is care. Empathy. Connection. The belief that every living being deserves to feel safe. If we can understand how a frightened dog feels in an exam room, we can understand how a frightened human feels in a workplace.
TDoR Isn’t About Politics — It’s About People
The very first Transgender Day of Remembrance started in 1998 after the murder of Rita Hester, a Black transgender woman whose life and identity were misrepresented in the media. People gathered, lit candles, said her name out loud — because she deserved dignity. Not because it was political. Because it was right.
This year, at least 58 transgender people were lost to violence. Many were young. Many were people of color. Many were erased in the reporting, or deadnamed, or denied the basic respect of being identified correctly. You cannot look at that and call it “politics.” You can only call it human suffering. We are in a healing profession. We know suffering when we see it.
Why Veterinary Leaders Feel So Torn
In my consulting work, I’ve learned that the fear isn’t about taking a stance — it’s about backlash.
• A vocal client.
• A staff member who sees inclusion as “agenda.”
• A boss who warns you to stay neutral.
• A fear of making things worse instead of better.
But here’s the thing: Neutrality doesn’t protect anyone. It just tells the most vulnerable people that they’re on their own. And that is the opposite of what our profession is built on. When a scared client walks through the doors with their sick pet, you don’t stay neutral. When a team member is hurting, you don’t stay neutral. When an animal is suffering, you don’t stay neutral. Why would we do any less for each other?
Inclusion Is Not Politics — It’s Workplace Safety
When I talk with trans, nonbinary, and gender-expansive vet students or hospital team members, they aren’t asking for a parade. They aren’t demanding speeches. They aren’t asking leaders to become activists. They’re asking for safety. They’re asking for belonging. They’re asking to be able to show up as themselves without fear. And they’re asking for leaders who won’t look away because it feels complicated. A name tag with pronouns? Safety. A restroom that doesn’t require defending your existence? Safety. A manager who corrects misgendering immediately and calmly? Safety. A clinic that acknowledges TDoR without apologizing for it? Safety. That’s leadership. Not politics.
So What Do We Do as Leaders?
During Transgender Awareness week, on Transgender Day of Remembrance — and honestly, every day that celebrates and honors the unique makeup of our human culture — we have a choice:
We can stay silent because we’re afraid of being seen as political. Or we can step in because we’re committed to being human. We can say:
“We remember.”
“We see you.”
“You belong here.”
“You are safe with us.”
“We will keep learning and doing better.”
Even if it’s imperfect. Even if you’re still learning. Even if you’re nervous. Because choosing courage over comfort is what leadership requires. And choosing humanity over neutrality is what veterinary medicine requires.
A Final Thought
If you’re a practice manager, owner, or leader wrestling with “how political is too political?” I want you to ask yourself one question: If someone on your team was hurting, scared, or grieving — would you hesitate to support them because someone might call it political? If the answer is no (and I know it is), then you already know what to do. This isn’t about politics. It’s about dignity. It’s about empathy. It’s about honoring the people who trust us with their work, their time, their identity, and their lives. And that — always — is the work.
💗 Stephanie