(Un)Professional Care

The other day I tweeted (Xed?) “What is ‘unprofessional’ about care?” My difficult experiences at educational institutions, coupled with the stories shared by a few colleagues in educational institutions across the country, my other job as an intimacy coordinator, and my recent viewing of an episode of Murdoch Mysteries in which Dr. Ogden is fired because she prioritized the care of a patient of the ego of a male doctor led to this question. 

The idea that care is unprofessional stems from a supremacist cultural normative ideal: a cis, heterosexual, white, able-bodied male. Performance Artist Johanna Hedva ([2016] 2022) wrote in her seminal essay on disability justice, Sick Woman Theory,

What is so destructive about this conception of wellness as the default, as the standard 

mode of existence, is that it invents illness as temporary. When being sick is an abhorrence to the norm, it allows us to conceive of care and support in the same way.

Care and support, in this configuration, are only required sometimes. When sickness is temporary, care and support are not normal. (emphasis mine)

Care is not normal in our world. Which is exactly what makes care necessary. 

Care, the arts, and teaching are all devalued in a society that values product over process. Our society is built on hierarchy, rather than community. However, if we are to humanize our profession, we must accept bodies and boundaries, and create community. Only through humanization will we prevent trauma and burn-out, and create an industry that values the artist as well as the art.

Hedva points out in the essay that part of the “problem” of care is gender. Women are often seen as needing more care, and are, professionally and domestically, more likely to be caregivers. An article in Scientific American concludes “According to ‘status value theory’, men's higher status in society means that men's roles and careers are given higher status than those of women. As a result, people value male-dominated domains more than female-dominated domains (Kaufman, 2020).” This specifically impacts care, as a report from Brunel University was summed up by its author “...the caring performed by a woman is often devalued as a 'natural' part of femininity…(Ward, 2005).” 

Dance as a profession, is often gender-coded as “female”. Coupled with the caring profession of teaching, dance educators face a double devaluation of their work. This can be compounded with pedagogies that value consent and choice, methods that can receive pushback as “realistic” or “preparing students for the real world.”

As a teacher trainer, focused specifically on helping teachers at all grade levels develop pedagogies of care, I hear the above comments often. And my response is always, “We can acknowledge the world as it is, and work to change the world.”As creators, we make new worlds! We teach students to do this as they choreograph and perform. Students and teachers do not have to settle for the world as it is, especially when we know it is harmful and devalues humanity. An ethics of care, a pedagogy of care, a creative vision of care, demands that we see the humans beside us, in our classrooms and studios. Despite the pressures of society that would term care as “unprofessional”, I would suggest that care is the only way to create a sustainable classroom, rehearsal room, and dance industry. Care is necessary to be a professional. 

In a workshop I led a few years ago on consent-forward spaces for acting teachers, in a rather famous US-based acting program, we touched briefly on the intersection of trauma- informed work with consent-forward work. One of the teachers, rather famous herself, responded that sometimes acting students are experiencing trauma or the reactivation of a trauma in the acting class, and they just need to “push through it, come out the other side, and use it to make them better actors.” I suggested to her that “if someone is experiencing trauma in your classroom, they are not actually learning. And, if they are not learning, you are not actually teaching. So, then, what are you doing?”

Trauma responses were developed for human survival. Dacher Keltner (2017) writes in The Power Paradox, “The human stress response is a dictatorial system, shutting down many other processes essential to our engagement in the world.... ...the chronic stress associated with powerlessness compromises just about every way a person might contribute to the world outside of fight-or-flight behavior” (151). When we are simply surviving, we do not have the energy to give to learning, deepening understanding or nuance, or creativity. Actively causing or allowing trauma will not create better art, better students, or better artists.

Choosing not to engage in work when trauma or harm occurs is professional. Trauma-informed teaching means that the power holder in the room must be aware that there are days that the work will not get done.The work that would get done in an activated state is not going to be our work anyway. An activated dancer may not even remember it, because their energy is being used for survival, not recall. Even if they do remember the work, it may cause activation when revisited, starting the cycle again. Sustainable work requires care.

If we are care-full educators, we must adjust our content and pedagogic methods so that we do not retraumatize or cause an additional trauma response in someone. “We cannot know everything that may activate everyone in our space. We can, however, take steps to make our spaces as welcoming to risk-taking and compassionate to complicated humans as possible” (Author, 2022. 25). As dance educators, ask them to explore those complications—  their emotions, their past experiences, their relationships with others in the room, their relationship with their own body. Dance educators must practice care. To do anything less would be unprofessional.

Urgency v. Efficiency

Clock-time is a colonial construct, followed to support capitalism. We know that is only a construct, and that time is much more spiraling than linear. And yet, we have agreed to live in society following this guideline.

As a teacher or leader, I can’t create more time, but I can shift how we feel about time.

Read More

Accountability is Not Punishment

I’ve written before about accountability both here (as relates to local theatre) and here (as relates to being persons in community).

The following is an excerpt from the conclusion of my thesis, which holds that collaborative work requires accountability measures.

Read More

I'm an MFA!

Finally, after a long road of graduate exploration beginning in 2016, I am excited to share I officially hold a Master (hate it) of Fine Arts degree in Interdisciplinary Arts with concentrations in both Decolonial Arts Praxis and Performance Creation Concentrations from Goddard College.

This wasn’t a journey I took alone. The following is my acknowledgements page from my thesis, Working Consent: Ethical Engagement with Collaborators, Audiences, and the Land in Dance and Theatre Pedagogy and Practice.

Read More

Accountability is Necessary for Community.

Manifestation can be another way to absolve us of communal responsibility. Away to keep us ignorant of structural racism, patriarchy, and all the other -isms that shape our systems. It gives us an excuse to not be informed on our state and local policies, or vote in ways that support the people we say we love.

Read More

Sacraments and Symbols- Embodiment and Empathy

This post was originally a discussion paper in my Feminist Theology 2 class in my PhD coursework.

Did the woman say,

When she held him for the first time in the dark of a stale,

After the pain and the bleeding and the crying,

“This is my body, this is my blood”?

Did the woman say,

When she held him for the last time in the dark rain on a hilltop,

After the pain and the bleeding and the dying,

“This is my body, this is my blood”?

Well that she said it to him then,

For dry old men,

Brocaded robes belying barrenness,

Ordain that she not say it for him now.

The poem, written by Frances Croake Frank, that begins Susan Ross’s chapter, is a beautiful example of embodied theology intersecting with art. The refrain of Jesus’ words, “This is my body, this is my blood” put into a woman’s mouth, in specific situations where we know women were present in his life, create vibrant, breath-catching images (Ross, 185-6). The final stanza starkly contrasts the role of the women in Jesus’ life to the role of those who follow him today. This entire chapter has helped me hone my own vision for my work, and raises interesting questions in the meeting of art, body and theology.

A theology of embodiment is at the heart of Christianity, and of a feminist approach to it. Feminist theology holds women’s experiences critical to its formation, and these experiences cannot be separated from the body which has them. Ross names this as a “feminist approach to sacramental theology: the incarnation, the centrality of embodiment and all that it implies, women’s lived experience, gender roles and ‘real presence’’ (186). Sacramental theology is typically identified with the latter through the use of tangible symbols: bread and wine, water, oil, hands, etc. All of these symbols are received and processed by a physical body. Ross, based off the work of Schillebeeckx, beautifully calls them “places where human beings live out in a symbolic way the life of the gospel” (191). Christ is the ultimate form of God becoming real as he took on a human body, to live in community with us. Sacramental theology is an embodied theology, and therefore is a feminist theology.

Ross writes of the women in the Middle Ages, “But most found in the Eucharist a confirmation of the sacred significance of the body which, to some extent, ran counter to the denigration of women’s embodiment taught by the church” (189). The Eucharist is a reminder that, even as it is a symbol, the body is also a symbol of the holy, of the redeemed, of the creation and the Creator. The Eucharist is a reminder that everything God created was named “good”, and that includes our bodies. It is a reminder that without a body to show love, and without a body to take it in, the sacrifice of Christ would not have happened. Embodiment is key to the Christian faith. And yet, many Christians try to deny their bodies and physicality. They particularly try to deny the agency of the bodies of others- by legislation, by judgement, by manipulating scripture.

These moments of judgement and dismissal come from an ancient Greek dualism that still rules in the Western world, the body is less than the soul. And yet, nothing in Christian theology shows that to be true. Ross writes, “A Catholic feminist perspective bases its critique on these dualistic conceptions on a retrieval of the Incarnation, seeing God’s taking on the condition of humanity as God’s own self-expression” (195). She goes on to state that, “Sacramentality grows out of human embodiment and its connection to the natural world, not in contrast to it” (195). As a language of symbols and practices, sacraments must be given, experienced and interpreted through bodies. Therefore, a feminist theology of sacraments “...argues for a closer connection between nature and history, body and soul” (Ross, 195). In this way, a feminist theology of sacraments could defeat not just patriarchal relationships in the church, but also current practices of disparaging science and destroying the Earth that often occur there, under the guise of “Creationism” or “trusting God to take care of it”. If we see ourselves and equal to and connected to the other, it becomes much harder to hurt them.

In education, we call this seeing “empathy”. It is one of the great gifts of practicing theatre and dance. When you take on a role, you put yourself in someone else’s shoes. You gain a different perspective. And often, that practice changes you. Seeing the world through someone else’s eyes, considering the issue from a side that you are not on, or even considering an issue you didn’t even know was an issue makes that person who is different, that opinion you do not agree with, not quite so easy to dismiss. Ross likens this to a process Freud identified in young girls, called identification. She writes, “But women’s sense of ambiguity, reluctance to make separations, and tendency to identify with the other are closer to the heart of Christian sacramentality than the strict separations that have become pervasive in much sacramental theology and practice” (Ross, 199).

A feminist Sacramental theology is possible and sensible. In creating such a method, we value the experiences of the bodies that give and receive the sacraments. We value both genders, and all abilities, races and ages. An embodied theology sees all as created, all as good, all as equal. Ross writes, “A feminist theology of ordained ministry takes seriously human embodiment, in all its various forms, as the place where humans encounter God” (203). This is why we must have bodies, and this is why those bodies are holy. Which calls feminist theologians to broader fight than church practices: “The challenge of feminism to Christian theology is the expression of the full humanity of women and men, not only ‘in Christ,’ but in society ...” (Ross 198).


Ross, Susan A. (1993) "God’s Embodiment " in Catherine Mowry LaCugna, ed. Freeing Theology. New York: HarperCollins.