Healthcare has long carried a badge of nobility; a calling, a purpose, a “higher road” sort of career. But wrapped in that idealism is a dangerous undercurrent: the quiet normalization of abuse. A reel recently posted by a clinician cuts through that silence with raw honesty: “Can’t even tell you about how many times I’ve been hit, kicked, spit on, scratched, etc. I was full-on punched in the face once, during COVID, when I was already stretched thin and fragile. I will never forget that. It traumatized me for weeks.” This isn’t just an emotional moment, it’s a mirror held up to a system that has quietly, and repeatedly, failed to protect its own.
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For those outside of healthcare, the idea that a doctor or nurse could be physically attacked while doing their job might sound shocking. But for those inside the system, it’s all too familiar. The bruises, the spit, the threats, the punches.. they’re more common than many care to admit. In fact, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, healthcare workers are five times more likely to experience workplace violence than workers in any other industry. Emergency departments, mental health settings, and even primary care offices are not exempt. What’s worse, many clinicians have absorbed the message that this is just “part of the job.” But it shouldn’t be. It never should have been.
The pandemic stretched healthcare workers to their limits (physically, emotionally, psychologically). They were hailed as heroes, thanked in social media posts, and given applause from balconies. But on the ground, in the exam rooms and ICU bays, they were being yelled at, shoved, insulted, and, in too many cases, attacked. And after the applause faded, after the billboards came down, many of them were left alone with our trauma.
Being punched in the face is not just a bad day at work. It’s an act of violence. It leaves psychological scars that outlast the physical ones. The clinician in the reel described being “stretched thin and fragile” – a state so many of know intimately. To be met with violence in that moment of vulnerability isn’t just wrong, it’s dehumanizing. It sends a message: your wellbeing doesn’t matter. Your suffering is an acceptable cost of care.
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But this isn’t just about physical harm. It’s about the systemic culture that tolerates it. In too many healthcare settings, violence is underreported. Clinicians are discouraged (directly or indirectly) from speaking up. Filing a report might mean hours of paperwork, little to no follow-up, and a subtle whisper that you’re not “tough enough” for the job. This silence is corrosive. It teaches young clinicians that pain is a rite of passage and that speaking out is weakness. It enables a cycle where harm continues unchallenged and unacknowledged.
And let’s be clear: the demand for safety isn’t a demand for perfection from patients. Many violent incidents in healthcare involve individuals with mental illness, dementia, intoxication, or other complex issues. But complexity doesn’t equal inevitability. We can, and must, invest in better systems of prevention, response, and recovery. That means better staffing, better training, clearer protocols, and most importantly, a cultural shift that says: your safety matters. You are not expendable.
We should also talk about what happens after the violence. Rarely is there counseling. Rarely is there time off to recover. The trauma is expected to be swallowed and the shift to be finished. That clinician, who was punched in the face during the darkest days of COVID, wasn’t given space to process her trauma. Instead, she was expected to keep moving, keep healing, keep sacrificing. That’s not resilience. That’s neglect.
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It’s time to say, without caveat or compromise, that violence is not part of the job. If it wouldn’t be acceptable in a corporate boardroom, it shouldn’t be acceptable in an ER. If we wouldn’t tolerate someone getting punched in a tech office, we shouldn’t tolerate it in a pediatric clinic. The compassion and care extended to patients should never come at the cost of basic dignity and safety.
Healthcare workers deserve more than applause and inspirational slogans. They deserve systems that protect them, leadership that listens, and colleagues who stand with them. They deserve the right to finish a shift without bruises, without fear, without another trauma added to the pile.
The reel’s caption ends with “If you wouldn’t tolerate this in your office, don’t normalize it in your ours. We deserve safety, respect, and support. Period.” It’s a simple message, but a powerful one. And it’s long past time the system listened.
according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, healthcare workers are five times more likely to experience workplace violence than workers in any other industry.
