When the first question is: Will you even serve us?
Every person, of every identity, deserves to be authentically honored in deathcare.
In my work speaking with diverse communities, i’ve been asked questions that stop me in my tracks. Despite the fact that every person of every identity will experience the deathcare industry for a loved one and even for ourselves, these questions are a peek-behind-the-curtain revealing the deep uncertainty of diverse identities about where they can turn.
- Does your funeral home serve gay people?
- Does your funeral home handle Black bodies?
- Is your funeral home willing to host a service for a trans person?
- Can we have a non-religious service here?
- Can we have a religious service here?
- Is your funeral home a religious organization?
- How does your funeral home honor Catholic traditions?
- Does your funeral home allow family ritual body washing?
- Can you accommodate participation in the cremation?
- Can you recommend a secular celebrant / officiant?
- How many employees will have access to see (or violate) my body?
- What options do you have that respect the Earth and nature?
- What options exist beyond burial or cremation?
These are foundational questions that point to a reality that all deathcare professionals should be thinking about in their practice:
Many people are not just wondering which funeral provider to choose– they’re wondering if they are going to be welcome, whether they will be judged, and whether they can be honored for who they are.
The Absence of Outreach Creates a Vacuum
When compassionate, affirming deathcare professionals are visibly present in diverse communities, we begin to overcome assumptions, misinformation, and fear.
When we are not present, that vacuum fills with:
- Gossip, stories, and informal word-of-mouth
- Cultural memory of discrimination or exclusion
- Religious or community leaders who may not be aware of all providers or options
- Online sources that don’t reflect local, real options
Without our proactive presence, people and communities are left to navigate deathcare decisions in isolation, often during crisis situations. For those who navigate marginalization, discrimination, and other identity challenges in daily life, having to add to that burden the weight of discussing mortality and death can be a heavy ask – especially when affirming providers are not visibly accessible.
Avoiding the conversation has real consequences:
- Lower probability of preparedness (pre-planning)
- Uncertainty about where to turn in a crisis
- “Settling” for the easiest – not the right or best – provider or plan
- Re-closeting identity or identity erasure
- Services that fail to reflect the person’s life and values
- Increased emotional stress layered on top of grief
Outreach and involvement isn’t just marketing; it’s creating a safe space for deathcare conversations.
These Questions Reflect Real Concerns
It’s easy to hear some of these questions and think, “Of course we serve everyone”. Or the more common (and very offensive), “We take anyone’s money”.
But that’s not the point—and it is not enough.
Each question comes from someone’s hard-beating heart:
- “Do you serve gay people?” → Fear of discrimination or disrespect
- “Do you handle Black bodies?” → Historical and ongoing mistreatment in care
- “Will you serve a trans person?” → Concern about identity being erased after death
- “Do we have to have a religious service?” → Fear of forced traditions and rituals
- “Can we wash the body?” → Worry that cultural and religious practices will be denied or restricted
Many marginalized people spend their entire lives being told who they are. They do not want deathcare to be the place where they lose the right to tell their own story.
Let’s deep dive into one of these questions. When someone asks if the funeral home is a religious organization or if they will have to have religious services there, they may be seeking assurance that they will not be forced to pray or defer to someone else’s G/god(s) in their most difficult moments. As compassion industries are often systemically faith-biased, many minority religious, secular, and spiritual people approach the providers with caution.
Words are not enough; environmental messaging matters. We can say a funeral home is not religiously affiliated or will serve any Religious, Secular, or Spiritual Identity—but if families walk into spaces decorated with bibles, religious quotes, crosses, or shrines or displays communicating a preference for “certain” people, the message about the preferred client is clear, whether intended or not.
Religion as decor can be an “unwelcome” sign to minority religious and secular communities, and also to any identity that has experienced religious harm or trauma, such as estrangement from family & support system or banishment from a religious community because of their identity.
And another: Who will have access to my body? I’ve had several conversations with people who were very private about their bodies. Transgender. Scars from sexual abuse. Religious propriety. Personal body art. The concern about being treated disrespectfully in death is about being forced to place trust in strangers with something very private and personal, when that trust has not been earned.
Representation Changes the Conversation
Meaningful deathcare conversations begin with trust. We build trust by showing who we are and by being present.
When deathcare professionals show up consistently in diverse spaces, something beautiful can happen.
Even if trust in the whole system isn’t yet earned, there’s a safe space. An advocate. Someone they can call.
The questions shift in tone from “Will you serve us?” to “Tell me more about…”
That shift only happens when people:
- See you in their spaces
- Hear you speak their language (literally and/or culturally)
- Experience your willingness to listen without assumptions
- Trust that you are not there to sell—but to inform and support
What Intentional Outreach Actually Looks Like
Checking a diversity box (where such is even still allowed), unpracticed policies, and empty words or reverberating silence won’t do it.
We must show up with compassion for everyone and commit deliberate, sustained acts of intentional outreach that promote inclusion in deathcare.
Intentional outreach means demonstrating ubiquitous, uncompromising compassion for the diverse communities we serve:
1. Showing up before there is a need
Being present at community events and cultural gatherings, offering safe-space conversations for individuals and for groups.
2. Leading with education, not sales
Speak with a focus on relevant, meaningful options, rights, and possibilities.
3. Listening more than speaking
Suspend assumptions; let communities and individuals tell you what matters to them.
4. Being transparent about what you can and cannot do
Trust is built through honesty, consistency, and presence. Perfection is aspired — not required.
5. Following through
“Doing what you say you’re going to do” is part of that, but only part. Marking a reminder on your calendar to call someone when you said you’d call is important, but that’s minor leagues. If you want to advance to the majors, then your policies, facilities, staff training, practices, and both written words (such as your website and printed collateral) and spoken words (from every employee) must reflect a commitment to intentional inclusive service.
This Work Is Essential
If we believe that every life deserves dignity in death, then we can’t leave access to inclusive deathcare up to chance, or up to others. If we are able, we must join the conversation.
It’s not about “we’ve had (identity) clients before” who may have just randomly chosen that company in the absence of having a relationship with an affirming provider or professional. It’s about being the clear choice.
For me, and for many other deathcare professionals i’ve had the privilege to serve with, making a positive impact for the deathcare UX of diverse communities is not extra work. It’s part of the calling. Part of the commitment. Part of daily action.
Because the real measure of our profession isn’t how we serve the families who already trust us.
It’s what we do to reach the ones who don’t—yet.
Quiet and/or Loud
This should probably be a separate piece, but want to to call something out here because i’ve met many inclusive deathcare professionals who are quietly serving all people. Just because someone isn’t loud, doesn’t mean they aren’t there for you. For many people, being part of the solution is simply woven into the fabric of their day-to-day interactions.
From current and past inclusion work i also know this: not every person – in any profession – is in a position to openly advocate for inclusion. Not everyone is a vocal advocate, nor should we expect them to be. Some who remain silent are being silenced, or don’t feel they have a safe space to speak.
If this work feels difficult for you as a professional, that’s not a personal failure—it reflects the reality of the environment many deathcare professionals navigate. Doing the best you can, in the space you’re in, for the people in front of you – that is progressive compassion in action. Your work matters.
For some, being visibly inclusive, advocating for LGBTQ+ families, honoring minority cultural and religious practices, or challenging default norms—especially as they relate to mainstream religious expectations—can have real consequences. It can mean being passed over for opportunities, straining workplace relationships, limiting advancement, risking employment, or even compromising safety.
That’s not hypothetical. It’s happening.
And it points to a larger truth: This is not just an individual challenge. It is an industry issue.
Our industry currently exists on a spectrum. At one end are organizations enforcing outdated assumptions about identity and end-of-life preferences. At the other are providers actively learning, adapting, and expanding options to meet the needs of diverse communities. Most of us fall somewhere in between.
As a deathcare professional, where on this scale do you fall?
What about the company you work for?
Your individual actions matter more than you know.
I want to thank and encourage everyone who incorporates inclusion into their daily practice of deathcare.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said: “If you can’t fly, then run, if you can’t run, then walk, if you can’t walk, then crawl, but by all means, keep moving.”.
Start from where you are able. Create light where you can.
You can move this meaningful work forward, even with a whisper.
Progress comes from everyday actions:
- Making space for families to share what matters to them—without assumption
- Using affirming language, even when others around you do not
- Quietly ensuring policies are interpreted in ways that allow inclusion
- Asking better questions during conversations with families–both pre-need and at-need.
- Being the person who says, “Let’s see what’s possible”
- Educating yourself about deathcare needs of diverse people
- Educating yourself about options, such as ecologically-minded choices, local inclusive Celebrants, and emerging technologies.
These actions and interactions matter. And it takes all of us to create meaningful change.
The future of deathcare is being shaped in how we are visible and present in diverse communities, our policies and practices, and how we train our employees. It reverberates in the “loud” activism and visible community presence, and also with equal importance in the small, quiet moments, in arrangement rooms, in conversations, in individual practice. All of this creates the reality of who feels safe and welcome to walk through our doors authentically.
Inclusive deathcare is for everyone.
Inclusive deathcare is simply deathcare done well.
Every person—of every identity—deserves to be seen, respected, cared for, and authentically honored in death.
Not selectively. Not conditionally.
Fully.
