This article originally appeared on VICE Netherlands.

The old cliche “don’t judge a book by its cover” has to be at least a couple of hundred years old – but according to a 2010 study, we still do it anyway. The research assessed how much patients trusted their doctors based on what they were wearing, and found that uniforms made them more trustworthy than everyday clothes.

Unfortunately, people don’t only judge their healthcare providers based on their clothes, but also on their age, physical appearance and race. I spoke to three young healthcare professionals who are regularly prejudged because of their outwards appearance.

Hedwig van der Meer, 30 – Physiotherapist.

I’m a physiotherapist specialised in the head and neck area. I also teach, and I’m working on my dissertation. Most people like my bright hair and piercings, but sometimes they can cause a bit of a stir. Before I started my internship, my school supervisor told me my looks could be an issue at work. People regularly comment on my appearance – patients, other physical therapists, even students.

Once, I got a patient from the waiting room. When he saw me, his facial expression changed. He only started warming up after I examined him. He told me he expected to never come back, because he thought I wouldn’t be knowledgeable enough. He realised he’d misjudged me and said he’d be back. I thanked him for his honesty – many people probably think like him, but wouldn’t admit it.

Some patients want a second opinion after my diagnosis. I don’t think that’s because of my looks, but because young women are taken less seriously in the medical field. I’ve often had to explain to patients that I graduated nine years ago and I know what I’m talking about. Then they trust me more.

Co-workers can have prejudices, too. I once asked a specialised physiotherapist if I could observe him for a day. He was OK with it, but the woman who owned the practice asked me to take out my piercings first, worried about the practice’s image. I politely declined. Recently, a student mistook me for the new teacher’s assistant and was very embarrassed when I told her that I was her teacher.

That said, there are upsides. Many of my students tell me they’d love to express themselves with coloured hair and piercings, but they didn’t think they could in this field. I tell them they can do what they want, as long as they take care of themselves and do their job well.

Vijay Chamman, 30 – Former home nurse.

For two years I worked with people who need to receive healthcare at home, going over their budgets and making sure they got the right care. Before that, I was a home nurse for five years. Now, I’m a lecturer at the Amsterdam University of Applied Sciences.

In my previous jobs, I was constantly in people’s homes, so it was crucial that my patients trusted not only my expertise, but also me as a person. That wasn’t always easy. I was born in the Netherlands, but my background is Surinamese-Hindustani. On top of that, I was young in comparison to my co-workers. People kept freaking out when they realised I was their new caretaker. They rarely expected to see a man, let alone a person of colour.

My bicultural identity came with both pros and cons when I was working in people’s homes. Some patients were afraid at first, especially older people. I was once tasked with taking care of an 80-year-old woman. When I arrived, she started crying hysterically and asking why we were doing this to her. She had asked for a Dutch woman, but I was the only person available. We ultimately agreed that I would turn around while she washed her private parts and I would be as discreet as possible while helping her get dressed. Older women are especially worried about sexual harassment. There was an older Muslim woman who didn’t want me to touch her, which meant I couldn’t give her insulin. In those cases, I’d rather not force my services on someone.

Family members were also often cautious around me. I understand that – it’s a big deal to put the quality of life of a loved one in the hands of a total stranger. I didn’t take it personally – I wanted to win their trust, to prove that I had their best interests in mind and that I knew what I was doing. Chatting with them helped. The more I stopped by, the more they let go of their preconceived notions. A woman who didn’t want to see me for weeks ended up only wanting me. That was beautiful.

Having a bicultural background can be helpful when you’re a nurse, because I can easily adjust to the patient’s culture. I noticed early on that people with a non-Dutch background trusted me more quickly, even if I didn’t speak their language.

Dennis Gerkes, 21 – Personal coach.

People usually have two bones in their forearm: the ulna and the radius. I don’t have the ulna in either of my arms, so they’re shorter and my hands turn inwards. I also don’t have some muscles, which makes my hands weaker. My disability doesn’t define what I can and can’t do in my day-to-day life, but it does make some sports more challenging. So athletes are often surprised when they find out I’m responsible for their rehab after an injury.

I chose to study sports management, and was one of the first people with a physical disability to do so at my uni. I was allowed to skip the sports I was physically unable to do, as long as I knew the theory behind all the movements. I ultimately picked fitness coaching as my professional track and became a certified trainer last year. I now teach athletes how to train efficiently, how to avoid injuries and help them with their recovery if necessary.

When I was a soccer coach in high school, someone asked me if my disability was contagious. People have also asked me if I can play a sport before they’d listen to me explain how they can play safely. Once they realise I know what I’m talking about, they let go of their initial prejudice.

My big dream is to be a trainer for the Paralympics. It’s incredible how people with a disability use their willpower to push their own boundaries time and time again. I want to help them do that.