What is means to Survive in Scrubs…

3 years after starting the Surviving in Scrubs campaign, our co-founder Chelcie reflects on the organisation’s accomplishments, the lessons learnt and what she now feels it means to be a survivor…

Introduction
We started Surviving in Scrubs from a place of anger, frustration, and deep disappointment. Both Becky and I had experienced sexism, sexual harassment, and sexual assault while working in healthcare. But perhaps what was most upsetting wasn’t what happened to us — it was what happened after we tried to report it.
We were ignored. Dismissed. Even actively discouraged from making formal complaints, for fear of damaging our careers — or the careers of those who harmed us.
We were silenced.
And we soon realised our stories weren’t unique. This is the pattern survivors have shared with us time and time again.
So yes, we were angry. But we channelled that anger into action. We wanted to amplify the voices of survivors of sexual misconduct in healthcare. And now, three years on, while we know there’s still a long road ahead — we can say with confidence that we’ve built a powerful movement that’s already making real impact.
Our Origin Story
Becky first reached out to me in 2020 while I was working on a project with the BMA. During our virtual meeting, we shared our stories, ranted about the patriarchal structures underpinning the NHS — and the rest was history.
Surviving in Scrubs began as an online platform where those affected by sexual misconduct in healthcare could share their stories — to be seen, to be heard, and to know they weren’t alone. Since then, we’ve built an incredibly powerful collective narrative that spans all corners of the UK, across all staff groups, specialties, and healthcare organisations.
But it didn’t start that way.
Our first campaign launched in July 2022, when we wrote an open letter to the GMC. We called for a clear clause in Good Medical Practice stating that doctors must not be sexist, misogynistic, or engage in sexual harassment or assault toward colleagues. That first letter — though later refined to be more inclusive — caught the attention of The Times. We were interviewed, and submissions to our website quickly grew.
That was our first campaign win. Today, sexual misconduct is directly acknowledged in Good Medical Practice, with guidance on what to do when you witness it.
Since then, we’ve worked with the GMC on further projects and collaborated with NHS England (helping shape the Sexual Safety Charter), the BMA, Royal Colleges, and other key stakeholders and regulators.
We’ve also delivered CPD-accredited training across the UK — virtually and in person — to universities, medical schools, hospital trusts, and ICBs. Between that, our appearances on radio, podcasts, TV, and countless articles, it’s been a full-on three years.
And that’s without even mentioning that both Becky and I still work clinically.
What We’ve Learned
The past three years have been a rollercoaster. We’ve had some amazing highs — from shaping NHS England’s Sexual Safety Charter to being interviewed on BBC Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour, and winning the EMMS Dr Elsie Inglis Award for championing sex equality in medicine.
But it hasn’t been easy. And the biggest lesson we’ve learned is that there are no quick wins.
This is culture change. And culture change is slow. It’s relentless. It’s a daily grind — chipping away at harmful behaviours and attitudes over and over again. It’s often thankless. And it’s exhausting.
There have been times when Becky and I have had to step back. Talking about sexual misconduct, day in and day out, takes a toll — especially when we have lived experience of these issues. But we always come back. Because we know we hold a position of privilege. Survivors have trusted us with their stories, their trauma, their truth. And we are determined to honour that.
We know we are creating change.
Redefining Survival
The collective narrative we’ve built through our website holds immense power. It reminds survivors — especially those whose autonomy was stolen through experiences of sexual misconduct — that their voices are not powerless. They are powerful. Their truths cannot be denied.
What happened to them did not happen because of who they are. It happened because of the systems we work in — systems that protect perpetrators, silence the harmed, and put reputations before accountability.
Redefining survival means refusing to accept silence as safety. It means reclaiming agency, demanding justice, and building a new culture in healthcare — one rooted in dignity, consent, and truth.
Together, our stories are not just heard — they’re shaking the foundations of the status quo.
And in that disruption, there is strength.