As women in medicine, we have been taught to achieve, not advocate, especially not for each other. We keep our heads down. We hustle for credibility. And when we finally earn it, we are hesitant to speak it aloud, about ourselves or anyone else. As if naming our gifts makes them less legitimate.

When was the last time you publicly celebrated another woman in medicine for her brilliance? When was the last time you recommended a colleague, not because you were asked, but because you believed in her enough to say so? When was the last time you did that for yourself?

Somewhere along the way, we absorbed the message that humility means silence. That real worth speaks for itself. That advocating for yourself (or for others) is arrogant, performative, or self-serving. So we do not share. We do not promote. We do not amplify. Even when we believe in someone fully. Even when we know that introductions and support can change the entire course of a career.

A few words, offered with sincerity, can set a new path in motion. And yet we keep our gifts, and our women colleagues’ gifts, hidden. We expect others to notice, to invite, discover, and to validate. While we wait, opportunities are missed. Doors remain closed. And women in medicine continue to work hard and do amazing things behind the scenes.

I believe all of this rests on an even deeper story we have internalized: scarcity. We live inside a profession where the unspoken message is that there is only so much room, so much recognition, so much opportunity, so much space for women to shine. In the past, there was only room for a few women in medicine. This sense of scarcity likely contributes to why we ration our praise.

Scarcity does not just show up in how we support others; it shapes how we move through our days in medicine as women physicians. We tell ourselves there is not enough time to write the email of support or introduction. Not enough energy to send the text. Not enough space in our day to lift someone else. Could we find a moment to be a connector, and speak nourishing, growth-inspiring truths?

There is nothing disingenuous about recommending someone whose work has changed your life. There is deep integrity in sharing what you love, what you trust, and who you believe in. In my experience, it also will likely energize you. Not doing so is also a real disservice, for yourself and others.

In medicine, what others say about you often carries more weight than anything you could say yourself. A heartfelt recommendation does not just validate someone’s work; it expands it. It says: This matters. She matters. In a system where so many of us feel unseen, this matters deeply.

It is not only about external opportunity. Being recommended (truly seen and named) does something inside us, too. It builds confidence. It quiets the self-doubt. It offers a moment of belonging, of mattering. It says, I believe in you, and that belief can be enough to shift someone’s entire trajectory. It is a quiet but powerful reintroduction to your own value. It lifts you, not just in your career, but in your self-concept.

When you are the one doing the recommending? That feels good, too. To offer that kind of belief is a gift, to that woman, and to yourself. It reconnects you to your own wisdom and generosity. It reminds you that sharing what is good in this world is part of your purpose, too.

This is not about affiliate links or promotional strategies. It is about remembering that trust is a currency we all carry. That our lived experience is credible, and when we speak honestly about what has helped us, we create ripples far beyond what we can measure.

We refer patients all the time. We speak with conviction about who will care for them best. We know how powerful those words are: You will be in good hands. But we rarely use that same voice to lift each other up.

Imagine if we did. Imagine if we built circles of women who boldly named each other’s strengths. What if we frequently shared (when true, of course), “I trust her; she is a fantastic physician, leader, speaker, researcher, teacher, facilitator, or coach.”

Your praise and recommendations do not have to be loud. Simply true. They do not have to be strategic, and you do not have to be an extrovert. Being a connector, when done from a place of alignment, can be a soulful experience. It can be a simple text. A thoughtful specific introduction. A moment of honest praise. These are not small acts; they are foundational ones. They teach us that promotion can be an act of care and generosity, and living into the belief that there is enough space for all of us.

I did not always know this. It is not something I was taught. It was not modeled for me either. It is something I have come to appreciate after coaching over a thousand women in medicine and working in the physician wellness leadership space for over two decades. Early in my career, I believed in meritocracy and modesty. I thought my work, and everyone else’s should speak for itself. Quietly appreciating successes and amazing things and cheering others in my own head and heart, was enough.

I have come to appreciate how much we lose when we stay silent. How many women I could have supported more boldly. How many doors I may have been able to open, simply by saying, You should know her?

Sharing your belief in someone is inspiring and energizing. It has impacted me profoundly when I have done it for another woman in medicine and helped me immensely when someone else has done it for me. I wish I had been more aware of this earlier, for myself, and for all the women I could have, and still want to, support.

Why do we not do this more as women in medicine? Many women in medicine have been burned by competition and scarcity. Vulnerability also feels risky in the medical world, which prizes stoicism and strength. We can choose to change. We can become the ones who refer, recommend, and rejoice in each other’s wins simply by starting to promoting what we know to be good and true, especially when it comes from women we know, love, and trust. Not because it benefits us but because it heals us.

When women in medicine lift each other up, we do not just change individual careers; we begin to reshape the entire culture. We model what is possible when success is shared, not hoarded. Why not become a connector and a recommender going forward? It feels good to connect. It feels good to recommend. It feels good to be recommended. These acts do not just open doors externally; they lift us internally. They remind us we belong. They remind us we matter.

Let this be a nudge to share what you love and celebrate what you believe in. Speak kindly, courageously, and often about the people who have helped you become who you are. And maybe, just maybe, do the same for yourself.

Jessie Mahoney is a board-certified pediatrician, certified coach, mindfulness and yoga teacher, and the founder of Pause & Presence Coaching & Retreats. After nearly two decades as a physician leader at the Permanente Medical Group/Kaiser, she stepped outside the traditional medical model to reimagine what sustainable well-being in health care could look like. She can also be reached on Facebook and Instagram.

Dr. Mahoney’s work challenges the culture of overwork and self-sacrifice in medicine. She helps physicians and leaders cultivate clarity, intention, and balance—leveraging mindfulness, coaching, yoga, and lifestyle medicine to create deep and lasting change. Her CME retreats offer a transformative space for healing, self-discovery, and renewal.

As co-host of the podcast, Healing Medicine, she brings self-compassion and presence into the conversation around modern medical practice. A sought-after speaker and consultant, she partners with organizations to build more human-centered, sustainable, and inspired medical cultures.

Dr. Mahoney is a graduate of Dartmouth College and the University of California, San Francisco, School of Medicine.