Researcher Jamie Woodworth holds a background in environmental science, gender studies, and a master’s degree in human ecology. Her engagement with questions around death began with a personal sense of climate-related anxiety.
“I felt a deep sense of anxiety about the climate and our global situation. At the same time, I was also studying gender studies and found inspiration in Judith Butler’s ideas around ‘grievable lives’ – who are we allowed to mourn, and what do we permit ourselves to grieve? Climate change is not only a biological or political phenomenon; it’s an emotional one too,” she explains.
As a master’s student, she began organising death cafés inspired by a British model. Over coffee and cake, people were invited to talk openly about life and death – and climate anxiety. Jamie describes the experience as almost therapeutic.
“I did it because I needed it myself, but it turned out that many others did too.”
Women carry the care burden
In one of the cafés, Jamie made contact with two professors of palliative care and nursing. It was an encounter that would inspire her to pursue a career in the field. A key moment came during a talk on public health palliative care to a forum of significant others caring for dying relatives. The lecture was about how the community can be more engaged in supporting people with serious illness.
“After the session, one woman asked how we could expect them to do even more. She said they were already carrying such heavy burdens, almost collapsing under the weight of keeping their loved ones alive.”
Jamie sums up the reality of care work – and the woman’s frustration – with the phrase:
“Women are caring their butts off, already!”
Today, Jamie Woodworth is a researcher at the Institute for Palliative Care within Lund University’s Faculty of Medicine and the Institute for Future Studies in Stockholm. Last year, she defended her thesis in gender studies, Our Deaths, Ourselves: An exploration of care, community, and dying in the Swedish welfare state. Growing up in Denver, Colorado, she saw how people with significant care needs were left without help. Her curiosity was piqued: what might care look like in a country like Sweden, with a strong welfare model?
“Care has become a luxury”
Jamie interviewed both relatives and professionals involved in end-of-life care. A finding was that there is a deficit of time to provide care amongst care professionals.
“There’s a huge contradiction here. Care should be at the very heart of healthcare, but I could ask any nurse or doctor, and they’d all say the same thing – they don’t have even five minutes to offer that extra emotional support to patients. It’s as if care has become a luxury.”
Jamie argues that the issue isn’t just about resources, but how society chooses to value them.
“We need to start valuing care much more. It’s undervalued in every stage of life, both in formal systems and informal settings. Yet this is the kind of work that makes all other work possible,” she says.
She also highlights how reduced public resources increase pressure on individuals – particularly women – to care for ageing and ill family members. These expectations persist despite Sweden often being labelled the most gender-equal country in the EU.
“Many women already caring for relatives at home are also some of the most active members in voluntary organisations. It creates a quadruple burden: work, children, ill parents or partners, and community care. And this rarely gets addressed as an issue in public health campaigns to increase community engagement in care.”
The importance of final moments
Jamie also thinks it’s important to examine and engage men in caring roles. In her research, several older men spoke about how their friendships with other men became vital at the end of life.
“Some said they went to concerts, watched football, or had a pint at the pub together. It meant the world to them.”
But care at the end of life isn’t only about sorrow and heavy conversations – it's also about presence, joy, and honouring life as long as it lasts.
“It’s about important moments. One person might want their favourite dish. For another, we open a bottle of champagne and to gently moisten their lips in their final hours. Care can take many forms.”
When Jamie started her death cafés, she quickly noticed how engaged the participants became. Once they started talking about death, they could hardly stop. What about Jamie herself - does she still talk about death?
"Absolutely. Next weekend some friends and I are getting together to write our care plans and testaments! Maybe talking about death is when I feel most alive.
Jamie Woodworth's thesis in Lund University Research portal
Jamie Woodworth's profile in Lund University Research portal