Reflecting upon vulnerable and dependent bodies during the COVID‐19 crisis

Abstract

This article is a short narrative on how feminism helped me find a balance in my life and how this balance has been disrupted with the COVID‐19 crisis. I reflect on how this crisis is showing our vulnerabilities as human beings. This crisis reflects how our bodies depend on each other, moving away from the dominant patriarchal ontology that perceives bodies as being independent. This crisis is letting the most vulnerable in situations of survival because the infrastructures that support their bodies are not functioning. At the same time, this crisis is providing visibility to certain occupations that are dominated by issues of race, class and gender. These occupations are being at least temporarily rehabilitated to their central position in society. We are living a time where we could show, through our teaching, possible resistance to the neoliberal ontology that captured humanity.

1. INTRODUCTION

Before embracing an academic career, I worked for several years in a company where I was a management accountant. At the age of 30, I ticked all the boxes that helped maintain masculine domination in my professional and worse, deep in my personal life. I had two small sons, had taken the decision to change my contract to a part‐time basis and was married to a man who always believed his work was more important than mine. I was in charge of taking my sons to day care and school in the morning and collecting them in the evening. Whenever there was a problem at school or at day care, I was the one receiving the calls and running to find a solution. When I would have to travel for business, I would leave my sons to the nanny, take the plane at 6 a.m. in the morning and come back running at 8 p.m. to pick them up. I remember crying a lot, feeling so much guilt and so much anger. If my sons’ father did not do his part of parental work, it was simply because he was too tired and had to concentrate on his career. I felt so much pain at the time; so much guilt; so much oppression.

In 2014, my manager told me at an annual evaluation:

Nathalie, you are a confirmed management accountant but you will not go up the latter because you have children. But you know it’s normal, my wife is living the same situation.

That was it. I had to leave my husband and I had to leave my work. I did not have the feminist knowledge that I have now built over time. In fact, I had no idea about what feminism was. But I knew something was horribly wrong.

Now that I look back at myself six years ago, I see that I was in a situation of what French feminist philosopher Elsa Dorlin calls ‘dirty care’. In a dominated situation, I was exercising a negative care upon myself by becoming the expert of the other to defend myself and my children from possible harm (Dorlin, 2017). For many years, I was alienated from my own power to act.

The violence in my managers’ words reconciled me with my power to act.

I left my husband, left my job and struggled my way to embrace an academic career. I discovered feminist theories during my PhD. They acted upon me as a therapy. I learned to take care of myself. I acknowledged my own power to act. How many human beings have the luxury of becoming familiar with feminist theories to rescue themselves?

During the time of my PhD, I had a third son with my new partner. I felt happier, healthier, stronger and more beautiful than I had ever been. Most of all, I felt free and had liberated myself from the guilt that comes with the different identities one can embody as a mother, a partner, a researcher, a professor, etc. Of course, nothing is easy. Of course, I am still vulnerable to gendered norms but at least feminist theories have helped me construct strategies to resist these norms (Butler, 2016).

The problem is that my partner and the people who know me see me as someone extremely strong, who can cope with anything and always stands up at times when many would fall down. Whenever I am facing an issue, my partner and parents just say: ‘don’t worry, you’ll find a way out’. That is about the only thing they will say. They do not believe me when I tell them that I am weaker than they think and sometimes I would need more support than they can imagine. Yes, I am still seen like a sponge ready to absorb the family, economic and social impacts always disrupting my life. I believe that this image of myself as a strong woman is at the same time my biggest vulnerability.

On 12 March 2020, French President Macron announced on television that all schools would be closed as of 17 March 2020. On 16 March, he announced France’s complete lockdown.

Everything collapsed around me. Everything I had taken so many years to build, to find the right personal balance, went to dust. Many parents are experiencing right now the same difficult days I am going through: organizing my work, working sometimes at 5 a.m. because I really cannot think of any other timeslot for work, my zoom conferences while my sons are playing in the room next door, homeschooling a 12‐year‐old boy, a nine‐year‐old boy and a four‐year‐old boy at the same time, thinking about meals, laundry, calling family to make sure everyone is fine, etc.

When my mother asks me how I am doing, I tell her it is really difficult to handle everything. She simply answers: ‘You’ll be fine, you’re used to multi‐tasking.’

You know what came back to my face like a boomerang during this crisis? Guilt, that horrible guilt.

Although I am with my boys all day, I do not feel like I am appreciating that time with them because my mind is thinking of all the work I have to cover. I also feel guilty because I feel useless being home during the crisis we are living.

I feel that I am taking dirty care of myself again.

Two weeks ago, my nine‐year‐old hurt himself while playing with his older brother. When it happened, I was heading a zoom conference. My boy came into my office screaming. I was so angry at him because he was disturbing the conference and he ‘knew the rules’. I muted my microphone, asked him to ‘shut up’ because I still had one hour of zoom. When I ended my conference, I went to see him. He was still crying. His wrist was hurting. I told him he would be fine. Deep inside of me, I hoped he was ok because I needed to work for at least half a day the next day and I did not want to spend time going to see a doctor or going to the hospital’s emergency unit, especially during pandemic times: I had to work.

Well, the next day, I went with him to the emergencies. He had cried all night; I was told his wrist was broken.

GUILT. I had put my work before my son’s wellbeing. GUILT. He must have been in so much pain during the last 24 hours.

When we were at the hospital, a nurse was taking care of him when my nine‐year‐old asked her: ‘Have you seen your children? Are they ok?’ The nurse looked at me. I saw the pain in her eyes. She smiled at my son and said she would see her little girl tonight.

I think I will never forget that nurse’s pain in her eyes. Her eyes were clearly saying: ‘no, I have not seen my children’. I had been telling my sons how much sacrifice care workers are making for the common good. I had told them care workers are working at least 12 hours a day and many of them were not seeing their children very often.

It is one thing to be conscious about such a situation and telling your children about it because you want them to understand others’ sacrifices for the common good. It is a completely different thing to see the pain in a nurse’s eyes.

When we left the hospital, my son said: ‘I don’t think her daughter is going to see her.’

My family and I have been all together at home for five weeks now. I still feel frustration and guilt but I have also tried to look at what this crisis is showing us. If many of us have felt that our lives have collapsed, part of the reason is because some of the infrastructures (associations, schools, day care, stores, offices, etc.) that support our bodies (Butler, 2016) are not functioning during this crisis. We are living a situation where bodies need each other, where we depend on each other, but the access to infrastructure is reduced or impossible. This situation is a real‐life case where we, as scholars, will be able to show our different audiences that the dominant patriarchal ontology that thinks the body as independent is over.

During this crisis, I have thought of feminism as the act of putting myself aside for a while because bodies that are in a much more dominated position than I am are in real pain. Women and men with violent partners are stuck home with very few ways to escape. Children with a violent parent are left on their own.

The government has offered alternatives in these difficult times to help those who suffer. For example, the government has declared in the media that because it is difficult for women to call the police when they are home with their aggressor, women can now seek help when they go to a pharmacy. It strikes me how the government keeps conceiving violence within a heterosexual matrix where it is systematically a woman who suffers from the violence of a man. This type of discourse might be blocking persons who are in a non‐heterosexual relationship from seeking help.

All of us are over‐consuming media networks; therefore, violent partners know that pharmacies have become an alternative to calling the police.

What about children? Social workers are still working but are not allowed to go to people’s homes. At a time where the vulnerable would need the support of the infrastructure even more, they are left on their own.

This crisis has also brought to the forefront the tremendous inequalities that exist in terms of education. According to the government, schools have completely lost contact with about 10 per cent of children; the most vulnerable ones.

What do you need to be able to do homeschooling? A computer, a phone, the Internet, a printer and paper. Some of us might take this equipment for granted but not all families possess such equipment.

What else do you need? At least one parent who will be able to help children in organizing their work and help them understand lessons. What about those parents who left school too early to be able to accomplish these tasks? What about those parents who simply do not know how to teach (and there are many!)?

In normal times, the poorest children in France can eat at their school canteen for one euro per meal. French school canteens offer healthy meals with a starter, main course, cheese, bread and a dessert. For these children it is sometimes the only proper meal they are able to eat during the day. What meals are they having during this crisis?

The infrastructures supporting our bodies are not functioning. Vulnerable bodies are trying to literally survive through the crisis.

I have also been thinking about bodies who are fighting for the common good. I am thinking of dominated occupations where race, class and gender play a significant role in rendering them invisible in normal times. Just like the nurse I was mentioning earlier, care workers are not home like I am; they are not even able to see their children as much as I am. In fact, in France, their children are being taken care of by other women who are working in day care and schools that remain open for the needs of what the government has called ‘essential’ occupations. Most of all, these occupations are exposing themselves to unimaginable risk for the common good. For the time being, these occupations are more vulnerable than I am; therefore, it is fine for me to put myself aside for a little while and reflect on what is happening.

At 8 p.m. at night, I go to my balcony with my sons and applaud for a minute all these occupations that were invisible before the crisis. I have mentioned care workers but we also applaud cashiers, garbage collectors, truck drivers, teachers, etc. At 8 p.m. at night, my neighbours and I also hit our saucepans with a spoon to protest against the last 15 years of neoliberal decisions that have weaken our health system. Society should not be paying for the decisions of a so‐called elite.

At the same time, society is learning what ‘essential’ occupations are. For feminist researchers, the essential role of these occupations seems obvious, but for French society, it is not always the case. Before the COVID‐19 crisis, these occupations were considered as peripheral; now they seem to have become central.

Society is temporarily providing recognition to these workers but I surely hope this recognition will be more than symbolic in the future. A debate is rising in France regarding the low levels of remuneration that these ‘essential’ occupations have accepted for so many years. Society seems to be struck by the strong decorrelation that exists between an occupation’s salary and its central role for the common good.

On 13 April 2020, President Macron’s speech on television mentioned the following:

We will also have to remember that our country, today, stands entirely on women and men whom our economies recognize and pay so poorly. ‘Social distinctions can only be based on common utility. The French wrote these words more than 200 years ago. Today, we must take up the torch and give full force to this principle.’ ¹

I did not know whether to laugh or cry at this comment. I find so much hypocrisy in such words because it is the neoliberal system that President Macron supports which has worsened such misrecognition. At least, French society might remember President Macron’s words to act in the future.

Feminist research has been debating this crucial point for so many years and has a lot to offer in these debates to understand the structural norms that have led to such misrecognition.

Feminist research can also contribute to finding ways of reconciling these occupations with their own power to act.

If we want recognition to run in the long term, for those of us who teach, one possible way to start is by educating our audiences, starting with our students.

I personally teach Accounting in a Business School, providing knowledge to future managers in big corporations. This audience has been educated in a context where they have been taught to become entrepreneurs of the self and to constantly maximize their individual performances (Brown, 2003; Cooper, 2015). This crisis illustrates how vulnerable we are; how taking care of the other is central. An entrepreneur of the self cannot survive without support, without infrastructure (Butler, 2016). An entrepreneur of the self fully depends on others. How many entrepreneurs have had to stop their activities? How many are struggling to pay their bills, to survive?

Before teaching what financial performance is, we should start teaching what social justice is. My colleagues and I are building up a course called ‘Accounting for the Common Good’ that will start during the fall semester.

We are mobilizing feminist theories to educate future managers. These difficult times act as a reflection of what feminist research has been exposing for so many years.

Our goal is to put social justice at the heart of accounting. Our goal is to teach our future managers what this crisis has taught us.

This is a difficult time where we might feel scared and lost. It is also a time of hope. A time where we can show resistance to the neoliberal ontology that has captured humanity. Many of our countries are paying the consequences of neoliberalism during this crisis because finance was at the heart of it all.

We are vulnerable and dependent human beings. Without social good, everything will collapse again and again.

DECLARATION OF CONFLICTING INTERESTS

The author declared no potential conflicts of interests with respect to the authorship and/or publication of this article.

Biography

Nathalie Clavijo is assistant professor of Management Control at NEOMA Business School in France. Her research is interdisciplinary, between accounting sociology and gender studies. Nathalie studies how control systems and practices reinforce gender norms while analyzing the possibilities to deviate from them. She uses qualitative methods including ethnographic methods in organizations. Before joining NEOMA Business School, Nathalie was a management controller for 9 years in the Saint‐Gobain Group, then worked as a research engineer for 3 years at Saint‐Gobain Recherche within the framework of an Industrial Training Convention for Research (CIFRE).

Clavijo N. Reflecting upon vulnerable and dependent bodies during the COVID‐19 crisis. Gender Work Organ. 2020;27:700–704. 10.1111/gwao.12460