When I ask my medical students to describe their image of a woman

The words of Alice Dreger—“When I ask my medical students to describe their image of a woman who elects to birth with a midwife rather than with an obstetrician, they generally describe a woman who wears long cotton skirts, braids her hair, eats only organic vegan food, does yoga, and maybe drives a VW microbus.”—are not spoken to amuse, but to reveal the power of perception, stereotype, and cultural imagination. Beneath the humor of her students’ vision lies a deeper truth: that choices in medicine, especially around childbirth, are often colored by the images society attaches to them, and that such images can both illuminate and obscure.

From the earliest days, the act of birth has been surrounded by symbolism and tradition. The midwife, a figure ancient as humanity itself, stood as the guide between life and death, the helper who ushered souls into the world with steady hands and ancient knowledge. Long before hospitals, it was midwives who preserved the secrets of safe delivery, who carried within themselves the wisdom of countless generations of women. Yet in the modern age, this figure has often been replaced—or overshadowed—by the white coat of the obstetrician, armed with science and technology. The students’ imagined picture of the “midwife mother” reveals not only cultural stereotypes but also the enduring tension between tradition and modernity.

We see in this image the persistence of a divide: on one side, the medical establishment, with its sterility, precision, and authority; on the other, the earthy, spiritual, and alternative world often caricatured by symbols of natural living—long skirts, yoga, vegan food, microbuses. Dreger’s observation reveals how easily society dismisses the choice of midwifery as eccentric, belonging only to those on the fringes. But such simplifications dishonor the profound reality: that women’s choices in birth are deeply personal, shaped by trust, fear, history, and desire for dignity in one of life’s most sacred moments.

Consider the story of Ina May Gaskin, the American midwife often called the “mother of authentic midwifery” in modern times. She and her companions on The Farm in Tennessee helped deliver thousands of babies, demonstrating that childbirth could be both safe and empowering when guided by skilled midwives. Though often ridiculed by the medical establishment, her work contributed to the revival of midwifery in America and inspired countless women to reclaim agency in the birthing process. Her life is proof that what society may stereotype as “alternative” is often rooted in wisdom that speaks to human dignity.

The meaning of Dreger’s quote, then, lies in unveiling the stereotypes her students carry. She is not mocking them, but teaching them: that as future medical practitioners, they must recognize their own assumptions, lest they treat patients not as individuals but as caricatures. The image of the “VW microbus woman” is a reflection of cultural bias, one that risks reducing the sacred act of childbirth to a matter of lifestyle branding, rather than seeing it as the profound spiritual and medical choice it truly is.

The lesson is clear: we must train ourselves to look beyond the images we attach to others. A woman who chooses a midwife may not fit any stereotype; she may be wealthy or poor, traditional or modern, urban or rural. What matters is not whether she eats organic food or practices yoga, but whether her choices are honored, her dignity preserved, and her life safeguarded. To respect another person’s choice of care is to affirm their humanity.

Practical action is before us: examine your own assumptions. When you meet another person, ask yourself—do I see them as they are, or as a figure shaped by the stereotypes of my culture? In medicine, in teaching, in daily life, strive to listen before judging, to understand before labeling. And if you are entrusted with the care of others, as Dreger’s students will be, remember always that the role of the healer is not to impose identity but to respect individuality.

So let Dreger’s reflection be carried forward. The midwife and the doctor are not enemies but different faces of the same calling: to bring life safely into the world. The real challenge is not to decide which path is superior, but to honor the choices of those who walk either path. And may we, like Dreger, learn to look past the easy caricatures, to listen to the truth beneath, and to serve humanity not as stereotypes, but as living souls worthy of respect.