On Sunday we celebrate International Women’s Day, and I want to take the opportunity to honor one of my female idols and role models: Caitlin Doughty.
Caitlin is one of the world’s most well-known morticians. Not only has she helped countless families say goodbye to loved ones at funerals in Los Angeles, she also runs a YouTube channel with more than two million subscribers, has published several books, and lectures around the world where she educates, explains, and debates death and dying.
Caitlin also helped coin the term “death positive” and founded the organization The Order of the Good Death. You can read more about what “death positive” means HERE.
Images: Courtesy by The Order of the Good Death
“Death – Let’s Talk About It”
I remember the first time one of Caitlin’s videos appeared in my YouTube feed back in 2017.
It was an episode from her series Ask a Mortician, where viewers could submit questions for Caitlin to answer. In this particular video, she explained how you keep a deceased person’s mouth closed.
Curious as I am, of course I clicked. Here was the answer to a question I didn’t even know I had!
I immediately fell for the way Caitlin explained and demonstrated the procedure without sanitizing it or overdramatizing it. “This is how it works.” Nothing more, nothing less.
After that video, I went to her channel and watched everything she had posted.
A Proud Death-Positive “Deathling” and Member of The Order
Caitlin didn’t just talk about the forbidden. She didn’t just answer the questions people are afraid to ask. She created space for a community where curiosity is encouraged and where it is allowed to speak openly about what many shy away from.
When I found the death-positive movement, it felt like finding an oasis in the desert.
I wasn’t alone in believing that it is natural to talk about death.
We are hundreds of thousands around the world — and we are only growing.
For me, supporting the work that The Order does is a given. They spread knowledge and information about our rights and freedoms when it comes to our own death and funeral choices. The organization also gathers like-minded people who, together, highlight the flaws within the Western funeral industry.
A Heart of Gold and Balls of Steel
Another thing I admire about Caitlin is her passion, drive, and courage.
She does not hesitate to challenge the (male-dominated) American funeral industry, which has normalized costly — sometimes entirely unnecessary — procedures that leave grieving families paying outrageous sums of money.
It’s important to point out that Caitlin never portrays herself as a victim. On the contrary, she stands tall and proudly carries the legacy of the many women before her who bore much of the responsibility for funerals and mourning within the family — before it was taken over by men and industrialized into what we now see as “normal.”
Death Culture: Past, Present, and Future
Caitlin is anything but backward-looking — even if she is something of a history nerd. She follows, with excitement and great interest, the new and innovative ways we can lay our loved ones to rest in ways that give dignity to the deceased, provide meaningful closure for the living, and are gentle on both the environment and nature.
With deep curiosity and humility, she explores and shares death cultures and funeral rituals from other countries, both past and present.
More often than not, the people she interviews are just as fascinated — and sometimes shocked — when she describes modern American traditions.
A Community, a Passion, and a New Career
If it hadn’t been for Caitlin, I would never have discovered the term “death positive.” I probably wouldn’t have dared to explore and develop my passion for death and death culture. And I most certainly wouldn’t have begun an education that opens the door to a new professional path as a grief and crisis support counselor.
It’s somewhat ironic that a video about how to keep a dead person’s mouth closed helped me find my own voice. Sometimes life is just as strange — and just as predictable — as death.
Thank you for everything you have done for us mortals, Caitlin. 🖤
I can hardly wait to see what comes next.
Links:
Caitlin: https://caitlindoughty.com/
The Order: https://www.orderofthegooddeath.com/
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@AskAMortician
X / Twitter: twitter.com/TheGoodDeath
Instagram: instagram.com/thegooddeath
Are you familiar with Caitlin Doughty and her work?
A short story with Quinley & Herrow
Who are Quinley and Herrow?
In Coffinfolk Café’s stand alone short stories, you’ll meet two most unlikely friends:
Quinley – Coffinfolk’s café host. A young woman who loves life just as much as she loves exploring the cultural heritage of death and sharing advice, information, and insights that can help people – whether they are facing their own encounter with Death or living with grief.
Herrow – Death himself. He may look frightening in his black cloak, but beneath the bones is a kind soul who enjoys a cup of coffee and sharing experiences gathered from every corner of time.
You can find a longer introduction + a short story about their first meeting HERE
“The Heart of Coffinfolk”
Narrated by Quinley
This day had been strange. Strange even by Coffinfolk standards.
The moment the phone rang or a delivery arrived, Harley rushed forward to take care of what I would normally handle. And if Harley wasn’t quick enough, Herrow would simply swoop off and fetch him.
My eyes narrowed into thin slits as I glared at Harley, who once again had squeezed past me to accept a delivery at the door. My boss tried to look innocent, but his face practically had subtitles. Something was going on, and my curiosity was driving me insane.
Herrow was no help. Unlike Harley, he had a frustratingly excellent poker face and kept secrets like no one else.
Toward the end of my shift, my curiosity had turned into a gnawing anxiety. Had I done something wrong? Was I about to be fired, and Harley was just waiting for the right moment to tell me? Though he’d never usually had trouble saying exactly what he thought…
The knot of worry in my stomach now felt like a bowling ball.
After yet another phone call, Harley disappeared out the front door. From my spot behind the counter, I looked around the café. How I would miss this place if I didn’t get to stay.
I heard Harley call for Herrow. Seconds later, they swooshed past me. If my stomach hadn’t been in knots, I would have laughed at the sight of Herrow carrying Harley like an overgrown child in his arms.
“Nothing to see here!” Harley called as they passed. I barely caught a glimpse of a flat package in his arms before they vanished into his office.
My shift was over, and I dragged myself toward the office to say goodbye. Before knocking, I took a deep breath and braced myself for whatever news was coming.
“I– I’m heading home now.” My throat tightened, and tears burned behind my eyes.
Harley closed his laptop and spun around in his chair.
“Oh, is it that late already? Herrow, would you mind locking the door?” He glanced at me. “We’ll close a bit early today.” He nodded toward the chair Herrow had just vacated. “Sit. There’s something I want to say.”
I bit my lip as I sat down. This is it. I blinked away a couple of tears before they could fall.
“Mhm..?” was all I managed. Harley leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“I want you to know how appreciated you are here. What you mean to Coffinfolk.” At my side, I felt Herrow’s cloak flutter as he, as so often, placed his bony hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you, but… I thought…” I twisted my hands in my lap. “Do you want me to stay?”
Harley let out a surprised laugh and took my hands in his.
“Of course I do! You’re the heart of this place, Quinley!”
“But—” I sniffled, tears now falling freely in relief. Harley pulled me into a hug.
“Sweetheart… Coffinfolk would feel so dead without you.”
“Literally,” Herrow chuckled, rubbing my back.
There was a rustling sound. When I looked up, Herrow was unwrapping something from that flat package that had caused so much secrecy.
It was lucky Harley was still holding me, otherwise I might have collapsed to the floor when I saw what it was.
The Reaper held up a painting of him and me, sitting in Herrow’s favorite couch in the café. As usual, Herrow reclined with his cup of black coffee, and I looked as though I was in the middle of babbling about something newly fascinating… most likely death-related. Without even looking for the signature, I knew exactly who had painted it: Dany Darkly, an artist Harley loves.
“Oh, it’s so beautiful!” I squeaked. “But why aren’t you in it?” I looked up at Harley.
“Haha, my place is in the background. I hold the room, but it’s you two that Coffinfolk is about.” He pointed at the painting. “The relationship and the conversation between Death and Life.”
Harley served chocolate cake—my favorite. Apparently, he had managed to smuggle it in without me noticing. When the others told me how much the guests appreciated me as the café host, I started crying again. The Reaper wiped my tears with his cloak. Something I imagine he has done many times throughout his existence.
Every time I looked at the painting, now hanging on the wall, I noticed new details.
A little like death—there is always something new to discover.
Speaking of Death, he followed my gaze and studied the painting as well.
“Is that what you humans mean when you say a picture is worth more than a thousand words?”
“Haha, that’s probably the only version of me that can keep quiet.”
“No, no, she’s talking. You just have to listen with your eyes.” Herrow patted my shoulder. “The day I never hear your voice again will be a sad one. Talk to me as often and as much as you like.”
“Careful what you wish for, Herrow,” Harley laughed.
“It’s lucky for you that I like it here,” I growled with a smile.
“Oh yes, I’m grateful for that every single day.”