Every March, during Women’s History Month, we celebrate women who made history: pioneers, activists, leaders, and trailblazers whose names appear in books and documentaries. Their contributions deserve recognition. But as someone who works in the funeral profession and also serves as a life coach, I often think about another group of women whose strength rarely makes headlines.
They are not famous. They are daughters, wives, sisters, mothers, and friends. Yet in some of life’s most difficult moments, they quietly become the emotional center holding everyone else together.
Working around death gives you a different perspective on people. And one thing I have seen over and over again is this: when grief arrives, women often step forward first.
The Women Who Step Forward
In the days following a death, someone has to make the calls, gather the photos, meet with the funeral director, and begin the process of saying goodbye. Very often, that person is a woman.
She is the daughter arranging the service while comforting her siblings.
She is the widow greeting visitors with grace even when her own heart is breaking.
She is the sister organizing the details so everyone else can focus on remembering.
In my work, I see women quietly become the emotional anchors of families during loss. They manage the logistics, absorb the emotions of others, and hold space for grief in ways that are rarely acknowledged.
This kind of strength rarely appears in history books, but it is everywhere.
When Death Was Women’s Work
One of the things many people don’t realize is that historically, death care was women’s work.
Long before funeral homes existed, death happened in the home. Women were the ones who cared for the body, washed it, dressed it, and prepared it for burial. These women were sometimes called “layers-out” or “watchwomen.” They cared for the dead the same way they cared for the sick: with compassion, dignity, and familiarity.
There was no industry then. No corporate structure. No formal funeral profession. It was simply part of community life.
Then the mid-1800s changed everything.
After the Civil War, embalming became more common so that soldiers could be transported home to their families. Over time, death care became professionalized. Funeral homes were established. Licensing and training programs were created.
And as the work became more structured and profitable, men increasingly dominated the profession.
In many ways, once death care became a business, it stopped being considered women’s work.
The Women Who Stayed
Even as the industry changed, women continued to lead and shape it in important ways.
One of the earliest examples was Henrietta Duterte, who became the first known woman in the United States to run a funeral home. After her husband died in 1858, she took over the family business in Philadelphia and operated it successfully for decades.
Her funeral home was not just a business. It was also a stop on the Underground Railroad, helping enslaved people escape to freedom.
Women like her proved something powerful: compassion and professionalism could exist together in death care.
A Profession Coming Full Circle
Today something interesting is happening in the funeral profession. More women are entering mortuary science programs than ever before. In many schools, women now make up the majority of students.
In some ways, the profession is coming full circle.
Women are returning to a role they historically held, not just as caretakers but as licensed professionals, business owners, and leaders in the field.
And honestly, I see that every day where I work.
The Women I Work Beside
I am incredibly lucky to work in a funeral home where women play a central role in the culture and the care families receive.
My boss, Tania, is one of those people who seems almost made for this profession. She is genuine, compassionate, and somehow manages to keep a sense of humor in a line of work where humor might seem impossible. But the truth is, you have to have it in this business. Without it, the emotional weight would be too heavy.
She has managed something that many women know well: balancing being a wife, a mother, a daughter, and a business owner, all while leading a funeral home with empathy and professionalism.
Our funeral home is mostly women, and I genuinely believe that brings something special to the environment. There is a kind of emotional intuition that happens naturally. Families often feel it the moment they walk through the door.
There is a warmth, a softness, and yes, maybe even a little estrogen in the room.
And honestly, I think that helps.
The Invisible Labor of Grief
One of the things I see most often in my work is what I call the invisible labor of grief.
After the funeral ends and everyone goes home, someone still has to deal with the paperwork, the thank-you notes, the estate questions, the endless decisions that follow a death.
Many times, that person is a woman.
As a life coach, I also see how women carry emotional responsibilities for everyone around them. They comfort others, manage family dynamics, and try to keep everything functioning even while their own hearts are hurting.
But grief does not disappear simply because we stay busy.
Eventually, every person needs space to feel their own loss.
Strength That Happens Quietly
During Women’s History Month, we often celebrate women who changed the course of history. But there are countless women whose strength unfolds quietly every day.
The woman sitting beside a hospital bed for weeks.
The daughter who manages every detail after a parent dies.
The widow who slowly rebuilds her life after losing her partner.
Working around death has taught me something important about strength. It does not always look dramatic or heroic.
Sometimes strength simply looks like getting through the day.
Honoring the Women We Do Not See
This month we will continue to celebrate the famous women whose names shaped history, and we should.
But I also think about the women who show up in funeral homes, hospitals, and living rooms every day, carrying the emotional weight of families and communities.
They are the caregivers.
The organizers.
The quiet leaders during life’s hardest moments.
They may never appear in textbooks, but their strength shapes families and communities in ways that matter deeply.
And if working in the funeral profession has taught me anything, it is this: some of the most powerful forms of courage happen quietly, one day at a time.
Let’s Have a Conversation:
Who do you honor during Women’s History Month? Do you only think of famous women or do you also honor those who have served quietly?
