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One night in September 2020, I sat atop my mattress engrossed in work when a buzz from my phone broke the silence. I answered to a gruff male voice who swiftly dove into a conversation about my recent appearance before the House Select Subcommittee on the Coronavirus Crisis, where I had discussed the implementation of coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) precautions to safeguard the upcoming presidential election. He accused me of being politically oriented and blamed me for policies he deemed responsible for the pandemic’s death toll. He went on to disparage my identity and background and threatened to file a complaint to the medical board. Although the precise details of his tirade have faded, his parting words remain with me even 3 years later:“I hope you die.” In just a few minutes, my world changed. The boundary between my personal and professional life blurred. The line between safety and …