Dr. Lattisha Bilbrew

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United States
Atlanta, GA
Dr. Lattisha Bilbrew

Dr. Lattisha Bilbrew is an Orthopaedic surgeon who specializes in Hand and Upper Extremity surgery.

Dr. Bilbrew Consulting LLC three primary objectives are to educate and inform the community on medical related issues, provide real time real estate services and investments, and identify and lead young people to obtaining a higher degree of education and training.

03/31/2026

I’ve had patients pass three hospitals to get to my office.

Not because I’m the closest surgeon. Because I’m the one who looks like them.

Some people call that “reverse racism.” I call it survival instinct.

When your grandmother’s pain was dismissed as “drug-seeking”… when the Tuskegee experiment isn’t a history lesson but a family story… when you’ve been talked over, talked down to, or talked out of your own symptoms—

You learn to protect yourself.

Choosing a doctor who looks like you isn’t preference. It’s protection. Health equity really looks like a black doctors perspective.

Beyond The Clinic. 🖤

MedicalMistrust OrthopedicSurgeon HealthcareLeadership

02/19/2026

The System Doesn’t Get to Be Anonymous

We shortened the name to protect the guilty.

Not “Tuskegee.”

The U.S. Public Health Service Syphilis Study at Tuskegee.

Not a rogue doctor. Not a local clinic gone wrong. The United States government deliberately withheld treatment from 399 Black men for 40 years.

They told them they were being treated. They weren’t.

When penicillin became available in the 1940s? They still didn’t treat them.

The study didn’t end because someone grew a conscience. It ended in 1972 because a whistleblower leaked it to the press.

I think about this every time a Black patient hesitates before surgery.

Every time someone asks me three times if I’m sure about the diagnosis.

Every time a patient brings their entire family to the appointment—not for support, but for witnesses.

They’re not being difficult. They’re being descendants.

Medical mistrust isn’t irrational. It’s inherited. It’s a survival strategy passed down from people who trusted the system and paid with their lives.

As a Black physician, I carry a strange duality:

I represent the institution that harmed my people. And I represent the possibility that it can be different.

The least I can do is say the full name. Out loud. Teach it to my colleagues.

Because when we call it “Tuskegee” without the “United States Public Health Service,” we let the system off the hook.

And the system doesn’t get to be anonymous.

Beyond The Clinic. 🖤

02/18/2026

A patient once asked me not to operate on her because I was Black.

I was in training. I stood at the scrub sink processing something no textbook could have prepared me for.

I scrubbed in anyway. Fixed what was broken. Her daughter thanked me after. The patient never knew.

This isn’t about forgiveness. It’s about the oath. The scalpel doesn’t discriminate. My skill isn’t contingent on acceptance.

Accountability is telling the story. Refusing to let it disappear.

As Black History Month comes to a close—these stories matter. Not just for us. For everyone who needs to witness them.

Beyond The Clinic. 🖤

HASHTAGS:

02/03/2026

Today is National Women Physicians Day.

But let me tell you about the woman who made it possible for me to exist in this space.

Dr. Rebecca Lee Crumpler.

In 1864—while the Civil War was still raging—she became the first Black woman to earn a medical degree in the United States.

She didn’t have mentors who looked like her. She didn’t have representation to follow. She didn’t have Instagram to prove she belonged.

She just showed up. And did the work.

After the war, she moved to Richmond, Virginia to care for freed slaves who had no access to medical care. She wrote “A Book of Medical Discourses”—one of the first medical publications by a Black American.

161 years later, Black women still represent less than 0.1% of orthopedic surgeons.

But because of Dr. Crumpler, I get to be one of them.

To every woman physician reading this—whether you’re in medical school, residency, or practicing—we are her wildest dreams.

Happy National Women Physicians Day.

Thank you, Dr. Crumpler. I hope I’m making you proud. 🙏🏾

01/30/2026

They designed one path for surgeons. I carved my own.

Here's what 2025 looked like:

→ 200+ surgeries performed
→ Patients from different states who traveled to my OR
→ Speaking engagements on business, health equity and physician visibility
→ Best-selling author (still surreal to type that)
→ 150+ healthcare professionals through my masterclass
→ Helped physicians launch their LinkedIn presence

Here's what the numbers don't capture:

I refused a plantation venue for a board retreat. Explained why. Got it changed.

I held a patient's hand who drove 4 hours because she wanted a Black surgeon who would believe her pain.

I wrote a post about my waiting room looking like Sunday service—and 8,000+ people felt seen.

I built passive income streams while never missing bedtime stories with my son.

And two weeks ago, I finally launched Beyond The Clinic. The thing I'd been building between surgeries, after bedtime stories, in the margins of a life that was already full.

For years I thought excellence meant sacrifice. Clinical excellence OR time with family. Patient care OR building something beyond the hospital. Authority in the OR OR influence online.

2025 taught me it's both/and.

But 2026? 2026 is about scale.

→ Growing Beyond The Clinic to reach 500+ healthcare professionals
→ Launching a physician speaker cohort
→ Operating at the highest level while building what's next
→ Modeling what's possible for every physician who thinks they have to choose

The clinic has walls. My impact doesn't have to.

You don't have to shrink one dream to grow another.

(p.s. per usual link to the next masterclass in the comments 😉)

Beyond The Clinic.

01/29/2026

They told me to blend in. I chose kente instead.

Gold, green, and blue woven into a pattern older than this hospital. Older than most of the systems I navigate every day.

When I tie that cap on before surgery, I'm not making a fashion statement.

I'm planting a flag.

For the nurses who catch my eye in the hallway and stand a little taller. For the techs who've never seen themselves reflected in the surgeon walking into the OR. For every Black girl who's been told this space wasn't built for her.

It is now.

Some people accessorize. I ancestorize.

That kente cap isn't just fabric. It's a signal. A permission slip. A quiet declaration that we don't have to shrink to fit.

You belong here. In the OR. In the boardroom. In the spaces they said weren't for us.

Come as you are.

What do you carry into your work that reminds you where you came from?

Beyond The Clinic.

$I fix fractures for a living. My own cracks? Those are harder.The fracture heals. The joint moves again. The patient wal...$

01/27/2026

I fix fractures for a living. My own cracks? Those are harder.

The fracture heals. The joint moves again. The patient walks out.

And I go home wondering why I still feel like something's missing.

I love surgery. I love the precision. The focus. The moment when everything aligns and I know I just gave someone their life back.

But lately I've been sitting with a harder truth:

There are things my scalpel will never reach.

The resident who messages me at midnight, burned out and invisible.
The nurse practitioner who's been dismissed so many times she stopped speaking up.
The physician who built a career saving lives but forgot to build a life.

I can't operate on that.

I can't fix a system that trains us to document but not to share. To present cases but not tell stories. To be precise but never personal.

I became a surgeon because I wanted to heal people.
I built Beyond The Clinic because I realized healing isn't just physical.

Some of us need permission to exist outside the hospital.
To have a voice that isn't filtered through a chart note.
To build something that's ours—not just our institution's.

That's the polarization I live in every day:

I love what I do in the OR.
And I know I was called to do more than what happens inside it.

If you've ever felt that tension—loving your clinical work but sensing there's something beyond it—you're not confused.

You're waking up.

Tomorrow I'm hosting my second Masterclass: A 3 Step Framework To Build your LinkedIn Influence Without Spending More Time Online. A masterclass for healthcare professionals and leaders who are ready to build visibility, influence, and opportunities outside the exam room.

If you've ever felt that tension—loving your clinical work but sensing there's something beyond it—you're not confused.

You're just ready to fix the cracks you can't reach with a scalpel.

Link is here if you're ready. https://beyondtheclinic-registration.lpages.co/beyond-the-clinic-registration-page

Beyond The Clinic.

hashtag hashtag hashtag

01/26/2026

I'm an immigrant. I'm a doctor. And I can't stop thinking about Alex Pretti.
A federal agent killed one of us yesterday.

Alex was 37 years old. An ICU nurse at the VA hospital. A man who spent his days caring for veterans—the people who served this country.

He was shot in Minneapolis. By Border Patrol agents. While holding his phone.

(Not a gun. His phone. Video proves it.)

His parents called the official account "sickening lies." He was a U.S. citizen with no criminal record. He was there because he cared about what was happening in his city.

And now he's gone.

When I came to this country, I believed in something. I believed that if I worked hard enough, studied long enough, proved myself over and over—I would be safe. That my white coat would protect me. That my credentials would shield me.

But here's what I've learned:

There is no credential that protects you from being seen as a threat.
There is no title that guarantees you make it home.
There is no uniform—not scrubs, not a white coat—that makes you untouchable.

Alex wore scrubs too. He saved lives too. And he was killed anyway.

Healthcare workers are scared right now. I've heard from nurses, doctors, medical students—people who came here from other countries, built their lives here, serve their communities here—and they're afraid.

Afraid to speak up.
Afraid to show up.
Afraid to exist too loudly.

That fear? It's not paranoia. It's pattern recognition.

So here's what I need you to hear:

If you're a healthcare professional watching this unfold—your voice matters now more than ever. Not just for yourself. For all of us.

If you're not in healthcare—look at who's being silenced. Look at who's afraid. And ask yourself what kind of country you want to live in.

Alex Pretti spent his career caring for people who served. He deserved better. We all do.

Rest in power, Alex.

Beyond The Clinic.

hashtag hashtag hashtag

01/23/2026

Maybe I haven’t posted in a while, maybe it’s because I stayed grinding every day. Just as a reminder in case anyone has not experienced it firsthand, black women make dope a$$ surgeons.

01/20/2026

I learned to operate. Today I'm teaching something harder: how to be heard.

This isn't about health equity.
It's not about patient advocacy.
It's not about standing up for what's right.
It's not about growing when you're the only one in the room.

It's about all of those things. And more.

Today, Beyond The Clinic™ 3 step Framework Masterclass launches: How to grow your LinkedIn Influence Without Spending More Time Online.

This is a movement. About changing how the world views healthcare professionals. About taking ownership of our narrative. About pushing our ideas forward instead of waiting for permission.

But more importantly—it's about teaching you how to do the same.

This isn't a medical school lecture. This is about learning to reposition yourself so the world can finally hear our voices.

A 3-step framework to grow your LinkedIn influence without spending more time online. Built for physicians and healthcare professionals who are done being invisible.

Not for tech founders. Not for influencers chasing virality. For us.

Four time slots today. Two are already full. Two remain.

If you've been watching from the sidelines, today is the day you step in.

Link in comments to secure your spot.

Beyond The Clinic.

01/19/2026

Fifth year in a row I forgot to cancel my clinic schedule for MLK Day.

No backyard BBQ. No sleeping in. No day off to "remember."

I could beat myself up about it. I've done that before. Told myself I'd do better next year. Promised I'd block the calendar earlier.

But this year feels different.

Because maybe honoring Dr. King isn't about what I take off. It's about how I show up.

Today I'll walk into my clinic. I'll see patients who drove hours to find a Black orthopedic surgeon who believes their pain. I'll be the face some of them have never had in a white coat.

That's not a consolation prize. That's the work.

Dr. King didn't fight for days off. He fought for access. For dignity. For a world where a Black woman could hold a scalpel and a seat at the table.

So today I'll honor him the only way I know how:

By serving.
By listening.
By being an example of what he marched for.
By treating every patient like their pain matters—because it does.

The BBQ can wait. The sleeping in can wait.

This work can't.

Tomorrow my free masterclass launches — teaching healthcare professionals how to build LinkedIn visibility without burning out. Because the more of us who show up and speak up, the more we honor what he fought for.

Link in comments.

Happy MLK Day.

Beyond The Clinic.

Address

Atlanta, GA

Website

http://www.drlattishabilbrew.com/

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