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Funeral Divas

 

Vinnie Rotonardo
Slate
April 5, 2011 ET

In October 2010, Muneerah Warner founded Fu­neral Divas Inc., a social group for women in the death care indus­try. At the Divas' website black and pink cof­fin mugs, hood­ies, and umbrellas can be bought, and members can enroll in a fu­neral di­rector mentor­ship program. Accord­ing to the site, the group's mis­sion is "to encour­age and uplift ev­ery woman in the fu­neral ser­vice indus­try and have fun at the same time!" So far 300 women have joined. This July many of them will be meeting in Laguna Beach, Calif., for the Fu­neral Divas' first-ev­er re­treat.

A bevy of women whoop­ing it up at a spa and resort in the gold­en state is hardly the im­age that comes to mind when one thinks of fu­neral work. For most, the stereotype of under­takers, morticians, and embalmers as men—often old men—still applies. Think Dan Aykroyd as Harry Sultenfuss from My Girl

, or Clarence Williams III's Mr. Simms, a batty, salt-and-pep­per-afroed mortician in Tales From the Hood. As one fu­neral worker put it, "It's not a boys' club so much as it's an old man's club." But in fact, death care is becom­ing less and less of a man's world: Today 57 per­cent of U.S. mortu­ary school graduates are women, up from 5 per­cent in 1970. Though this influx is stereotype bash­ing, it's also some­thing of a home­com­ing. Today's women fu­neral workers aren't moving into death care so much as they're moving back into it.

Before the 1860s, caring for the dead was viewed as a woman's role. Death care tended to take place in the home, and the cultur­al perception of women as more intuitive and emotional made them an obvi­ous choice for the job. Additionally, because women were the ones who helped de­liv­er infants, and the infant mortal­ity rate was high­—in 1850 it was 216.8 for ev­ery 1,000 live births among whites and 340 for ev­ery 1,000 live births among blacks—dealing with deaths was seen as part of the birthing process.

Colloqui­ally, women in death care were known as "shrouding women." They col­lected the corpse, washed it, rubbed it with herbs to reduce smell, dressed it, and posed it for its wake and burial. In most cases, men were responsible for constructing the cof­fin and digging the grave only.

All this changed dur­ing the Civ­il War. With thou­sands of American men dying far away from home, fam­i­lies began request­ing that their loved ones be embalmed and shipped from the battlefields. Up until then, most Americans viewed the practice with suspicion. It was seen as unnat­ural, some­thing that took place in med­ical schools. But the re­alities of war helped to soft­en atti­tudes about what would be accept­able to do to bod­ies for the sake of a cer­emoni­al goodbye. And then, crucially, on April 15, 1865, when Pres­ident Abraham Lincoln died, top advis­ers decided that he be embalmed and toured on a fu­neral train. It proved embalm­ing's sh­ining mo­ment.

From that point on, under­taking slowly grew into a commercial enterprise, and women were pushed out in the process. To some ex­tent, it was the busi­ness as­pect of the fu­neral busi­ness that worked against them. Dur­ing the Victo­rian era and into the 20th centu­ry, women generally weren't al­lowed to be in busi­ness. They were left on the side­lines.

Fur­thermore, as the fu­neral indus­try burgeoned, ed­ito­rials in trade journals, such as The Cas­ket and Embalmer's Monthly began argu­ing that women were especially unfit for the fu­neral indus­try. The indus­try's corner­stone was the sci­ence of embalm­ing, the ed­ito­rials con­tended, and women don't do sci­ence; nor were women emotionally fit to deal with death it­self, or the phys­ical de­mands of fu­neral work (e.g., picking up dead bod­ies.)Accord­ing to Georganne Rundblad, a sociology and anthro­pology pro­fessor at Illinois Wesleyan Uni­versity, these articles tended to focus on women who tried to move into the indus­try.* The atti­tude of these publications was, "How can these women think about pos­sibly moving into this occupation? Women are too timid, too sweet," Rundblad explained.

Of course, things have improved for women since those days. In the fu­neral indus­try, tra­ditional as it was (and is), it was partic­ularly diffi­cult for women to erode workplace barri­ers. It wasn't until 2000 that the number of women equaled the number of men graduating from U.S. mortu­ary schools.

Inter­views with women fu­neral workers today yield­ed two main reasons for their want­ing to move into the busi­ness: First, it's a sta­ble, well-paying job. The mean annual wage of a fu­neral di­rector is just over $60,000, and there will nev­er be a short­age of deaths.

The sec­ond rea­son hear­kens back—somewhat iron­ically—to the archetype of the nur­tur­ing woman from the pre-Civ­il War days: Women fu­neral workers be­lieve they out­perform men when it comes to comforting and lis­tening to surviving fam­ily members, and at us­ing their fem­i­nine touch to cre­ate mem­o­rable, meaningful fu­neral ser­vices. Where men coldly push paper across tabletops, they say, women give hugs.

"Women are more pa­tient and more will­ing to explain things," said Kim Stacey, founder of the As­sociation of Women Fu­neral Pro­fes­sion­als. Additionally, she said, "Women are more able to break down phys­ical bound­aries. People will accept a hug from a woman far more will­ingly than they will from a man." In an indus­try in which a myr­iad of consumer pro­tection laws of­ten bewil­der surviving fam­ily members who are in the process of pur­chas­ing fu­neral ser­vices, a woman's supposed supe­rior­ity in the empa­thy de­part­ment can help seal deals. Some fu­neral homes only al­low women to field calls from prospective clients for just this rea­son.

Howev­er, death care isn't a woman's field just yet. Most es­ti­mates put the number of women working in the fu­neral indus­try well be­low that of men, despite women's high mortu­ary school graduation rates. The fact re­mains that many fu­neral homes re­main small, fam­ily-run busi­nesses in which fa­thers have passed down owner­ship to sons over generations. And some prej­u­dice still exists. Many women looking to move into the fu­neral indus­try say that male owners overlook them. Employers won't har­bor doubts about a man's ability to pick up a 300-pound body, but they will with a woman. Those already working in the indus­try say they feel as though they constantly have to prove them­selves.

Women death care workers may not have to put up with these hur­dles in the fu­ture. For the first time ev­er, as ev­idenced by the Fu­neral Divas and the As­sociation of Women Fu­neral Pro­fes­sion­als, they are orga­nizing and, in turn, devel­op­ing a group consciousness. As the old guard dies off, the idea of a fu­neral worker enjoying a giggly get­away in California may not be so far off af­ter all.

Correction, March 26, 2011: In the orig­inal ver­sion of this article, the au­thor's name was mis­spelled.

Correction,April 1, 2011: This article orig­inally mis­identi­fied Georganne Rundblad as a pro­fessor at the Uni­versity of Illinois-Urbana. (Return to the corrected sen­tence.)

Source: Slate
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