“When will I see the doctor?” Most female doctors have been asked this question many times. It feels like a slight — a failure to recognize the struggle it took to get to where they are, a fight that is far from over once a woman has her medical degree.

Women now make up more than half of medical students but only about 37% of practicing doctors. That is partly because the makeup of the medical workforce lags that of the student body. But it’s also because persistent sexism drives higher attrition among women in medicine.

Even in households headed by a mother and father who both work, the woman is frequently expected to be the primary caretaker. As a result, female physicians often feel forced to work part time, choose lower-paying specialties such as pediatrics or leave the profession altogether.

That’s unfortunate not just for doctors but also for patients. On the whole, female doctors are more empathetic, detail-oriented and likely to follow through than their male counterparts. In other words, they are better doctors.

Admittedly, that is a generalization, but it’s one worth making. I experienced it firsthand working with female colleagues, and I’m informed by that experience in addressing my own medical needs. I prefer to see female doctors.

It wasn’t always that way. But after seeing a series of male doctors who were not listening to me, in a hurry to get out of the exam room or appearing only mildly interested in figuring out the cause of my problem, I made the switch — and I’m not going back. While I found that male doctors typically decided what my diagnosis was and how to treat it before entering the exam room, female doctors tended to be open-minded about what my medical issues were and — gasp! — listen to my answers to their questions.

But don’t take my word for it. Look at the data.

One recent study found that both female and male patients had lower mortality rates when they were treated by female physicians. Perhaps not surprisingly, the benefits of getting care from women were greater for women than for men.

“What our findings indicate is that female and male physicians practice medicine differently, and these differences have a meaningful impact on patients’ health outcomes,” said Yusuke Tsugawa, a senior author of the study.

Female doctors seem more likely to discover the root cause of a medical problem, as we are taught to do in medical school, rather than merely treat the symptoms.

“Female physicians spend more time with patients and spend more time engaging in shared medical decision-making,” Dr. Lisa Rotenstein, a co-author of the study, told Medical News Today. “Evidence from the outpatient setting demonstrates that female physicians spend more time on the electronic health record than male counterparts and deliver higher-quality care. In the surgical realm, female physicians spend longer on a surgical procedure and have lower rates of postoperative readmissions. We need to be asking ourselves how to provide the training and incentives so that all doctors can emulate the care provided by female physicians.”

One reason for the discrepancy might be male doctors’ propensity to be more ego-driven. They may revert to “mansplaining” to patients instead of engaging in an equal, cooperative patient-physician relationship. I’ve been guilty of that myself, so I know it when I see it.

What’s blocking women’s advancement in medicine? Old-fashioned sexism in the workplace is the most obvious answer. Female doctors are paid 25% less than their male counterparts on average, according to the 2019 Medscape Physician Compensation Report, earning an estimated $2 million less over a 40-year career.

There is also a power imbalance. Men are more likely to be full professors at medical schools and presidents of professional medical associations. A 2019 survey found that women oncologists were less likely than their male counterparts to attend scientific meetings because of child care and other demands. And anyone in medicine will attest that these conferences provide opportunities to angle for leadership positions.

Excluding women from leadership deprives young female doctors of role models. While I haven’t seen female doctors being asked to get coffee for their male colleagues (though I have seen women nurses asked to do so, even recently), the unequal distribution of responsibilities is undeniable. Female physicians are often overburdened with menial, uncompensated assignments, secretarial tasks and committee service that does not necessarily lead to promotions, taking precious time away from activities that would be more likely to advance their careers.

These and other factors lead to higher burnout rates among women physicians. A 2022 American Medical Assn. survey found that 57% of female physicians reported suffering at least one symptom of burnout, compared with 47% of men.

“Women physicians are paid less than men, work harder, have less resources, are less likely to be promoted and receive less respect in the workplace,” Roberta Gebhard, a former president of the American Medical Women’s Association, told the Hill. “With all of these barriers to success in the workplace … it’s no wonder that women physicians are more likely to stop practicing than men.”

The patriarchal system is alive and well in medicine, and it isn’t helping our patients. We must address this antiquated disparity. It is incumbent on medical institutions to champion female physicians, not only as rank-and-file doctors but also as leaders of the profession and its organizations. Patients should also examine their own assumptions and challenge the notion that seeing a male doctor will yield better results.

It’s time for doctors to live up to one of the highest ideals of medicine: that all people should be treated equally. That includes female physicians.

David Weill is a physician, a former director of Stanford’s Center for Advanced Lung Disease, the principal of the Weill Consulting Group and the author, most recently, of “All That Really Matters.”