Forced to Care: Coercion and Caregiving in America

By Evelyn Nakano Glenn
Harvard University Press

Evelyn Nakano Glenn is a professor of Women’s and Ethnic Studies at University of California, Berkeley and author of Forced to Care. Perhaps because of her vocation, the book has a bit of a textbook flavor to it, but as it progresses, she lets go and begins to fill it out with a more humanistic view.

Forced to Care begins with a look at those who are responsible for the lion’s share of caregiving in America. Glenn’s findings basically confirm what most of us know already: in most cases, women of color, women at the low end of the socioeconomic scale, and illegal immigrants are the ones caring for our nation’s young, disabled, and elderly.

The author then takes her inquiries one step further by tracing the roots of caregiving back to colonial America in an effort to discover why such a disproportionate amount of paid and unpaid caretaking falls to these individuals. Glenn does a terrific job of leading the reader through the individual events that occurred politically, socially, industrially, and economically to reinforce the notion that it is a woman’s duty to take care of needy family members. Following the shift from an agricultural, self-sustaining, family-based society to a market economy, Glenn shows just why gender divisions still remain with respect to these types of jobs. She illustrates, through the use of an amazing amount of research, just exactly how American women with very few other choices have been coerced into providing care for others to the detriment of their own needs for centuries. Our society’s continued devaluation of these kinds of “homemaking” services serves to perpetuate the problem.

It is clear that the author encourages a sea change with respect to both paid and unpaid caregiving, but she refrains from demonizing any particular groups or individuals, instead offering a clear, concise look at how we got ourselves here, and why we need to get out of this mess while we still can.

Glenn advocates for both care providers and those receiving care and uses her vast knowledge of the history and foundation of the problems to offer concrete solutions to the difficulties both face as our aging society pushes us closer to a crisis in the fastest growing segment of healthcare in America.

Before picking up this book, I was nearly certain that I would be called upon to care for elderly family members at some point in my life, although hopefully not until my children are grown and gone. Despite my fears of being able to do so with grace and love versus resentment and frustration, it was nonetheless something I didn’t see a way out of. I can’t say that Forced to Care allayed my fears in any way, but I gained a tremendous amount of insight as to how and why I might be called upon to provide such care and how, if I am so inclined, I might join in efforts to increase the availability of resources and respect for caregivers as a whole.

While the book is not an easy read—I didn't settle down with it in my lounge chair next to the pool—it is an absolutely eye-opening look at something many of us take for granted; that we as women will eventually be called upon to care for those family members who cannot do it for themselves.

Review by Kari O’Driscoll

Encarnación: Illness and Body Politics in Chicana Feminist Literature

By Suzanne Bost
Fordham University Press

The pockmarks on the Aztec figure on the cover of Suzanne Bost’s Encarnación: Illness and Body Politics in Chicana Feminist Literature are a reminder of the proximity of disease, illness, and pain to death. Chicana artist Maya González’ painting is in fact entitled Death Enthroned, and serves as a constant thematic backdrop to Bost’s book since it embodies many of the themes that Bost will deal with in her study of Chicana feminist literature: Aztec culture, illness, death, religion, and woman’s precarious position in the intersection of these elements.

Bost’s study is not the first to examine Chicana feminist literature, as many readers will note (many such studies have been reviewed by FR). In effect, the three authors Bost chooses to analyse are part of the established cannon of Chicana literature, with Gloria Anzaldúa being the face of said literature with twice as many critical articles written on her (over 200 in the MLA directory as of April 1, 2010). Both of the other writers, Cherríe Moraga and Ana Castillo, have also established themselves in the last twenty years or so. All three have been studied within other “literary labels,” such as Queer Studies for Cherríe Moraga and Ecocriticism for Ana Castillo, for example.

Separately, all three authors have been examined under the relatively new label of Disability Studies, but the intersection of Disability Studies with Chicana Feminist Literary Studies is a novelty, which Bost (and other academics) sees as appealing. In the contextualization of her analysis, Bost finds it fitting to differentiate studies on the Female Body (which have been done for each of the writers mentioned) with Disability. This is perhaps one of the most interesting theoretical parts of her analysis since the line separating the two is very fine: pain, illness, and disability are all part of the bodily construction and seem inseparable. Thus, Bost’s analysis is enlightening as to what exactly is new in her approach: a Chicana identity rooted in the body, but which transcends it, as her use of the Spanish term encarnación (incarnation) in the title signals both a figurative and literal embodiment. Bost specifically writes that she is interested in “the ways in which other corporeal qualities—ones that are not genetic, visible, or already politically inscribed as an assumed axis of oppression/privilege—upend the familiar forms of identity.”

Before moving to individual chapters examining each author, Bost explores the context of identity and grounds Chicana identity in the Aztec traditions. The author is very thorough in her reminder of all the Aztec symbolism throughout the four chapters and, for those of us who need a refresher, there is an abundance of useful information. What Bost terms as a hagiographic (reverential towards the religious figures) study of Aztec culture is also useful in that it establishes an unconventional (read non-Christian) relationship to pain, illness, death, and their relationship to representation in that tradition. Furthermore, in this chapter Bost chooses to iconize Frida Kahlo as one of the central contextualizing figures for the Chicana disability studies as she epitomizes both analytical elements, as well as being a significant influence on all three authors.

All three chapters on the individual authors are well written and quite detailed. However, one can but lament the fact that Bost did not take the opportunity to write a proper conclusion to her study (one that would have reiterated the more direct links between the writers and come to some consensus about the use of Disability Studies as a useful tool to examine Chicana Feminist Literature). Although I personally find her introduction of the Chicana artists Maya González and Diane Gamboa in her conclusion to be fascinating and informative, it is Chicana Feminist Literature that her study chooses to focus on, and it would have been interesting to see if Bost had found relevant links to other Chicana writers. With the prominence of the Chicana women artists and the inclusion of the twelve beautiful color plates in her book, it is almost fitting to suggest that the book be renamed Encarnación: Illness and Body Politics in Chicana Feminist Representation.

Review by Sophie M. Lavoie

Sick: A Compilation Zine on Physical Illness

Edited by Ben Holtzman
Microcosm Publishing

It surrounds us. No matter how difficult, awkward, or painful, we will inevitably come into contact with it. But despite its ubiquity, physical illness continues to be one of the most challenging subjects for people to broach.

Sick is a compilation zine on physical illness that offers up the experiences and perspectives of individuals living with illness. Whether dealing with incurable polycystic kidney disease, coping with cancer, or struggling with an unnamed medical condition, each piece, no matter how distinct, explores common themes of support, communication, and community. Each writer concisely documents her or his personal struggle with illness and sheds light onto the stigmatization of sickness and deep-seated taboos that hinder dialogue. Apart from exploring the painful consequences of living in a society unaccustomed to discussing illness, the writers offer valuable tools that teach us to be considerate and helpful allies.

Sick gracefully navigates its way through a wide range of experiences as it aims to open the channels of communication and establish a collective voice for those impacted by illness. How do we respond when someone tells us they are sick? How many people in our community are transparent about having a disability or illness? What can we do to help each other feel welcome, equal, and supported?

The zine also considers exclusivity within radical/DIY/punk scenes. How does someone’s level of health determine their participation in a particular community? Riding a bicycle, marching in a protest, and dumpster diving, for instance, are activities accessible primarily to the able-bodied. To avoid being ostracized or dismissed, many sick individuals find themselves pushed into the proverbial closet of shame and isolation.

In our culture, sickness is a private affair. We have been socialized to fear or ignore it. Consequently, sick people must not only learn to manage their own disease, but are often burdened with others’ inability to openly discuss and cope with illness. Often racked with feelings of guilt, isolation, and alienation, it is essential that a sick person’s experiences are acknowledged and validated. This is what Sick achieves. It opens dialogue and validates experience. Perhaps we cannot understand what it means to have supraventricular tachycardia, but we can learn to listen and ask our friends how we can provide the support they need.

Though the accounts in Sick can be grim or downright disturbing, the writers’ warm resilience brightens every page with hope for opening discourse and dismantling entrenched social norms. It’s the writers’ heartfelt declarations and earnest desire to create a caring community that makes this read so compelling.

Sick is a compassionate, honest work and a necessary first step toward understanding the complexities of physical illness and building communities of support. It is challenging and tender; it is unprecedented and accessible.

Review by Sofia Marin