“The Invisible Labor of Women” Mark 6:31-44, #Mark Series, #at the Table
By Emily Rutledge
During a time when Romans ruled, and many Jewish leaders straddled the empire and the Torah-it was Jesus who came to turn the establishment upside down and extend the love of God wide. Jesus taught that the outsider was in, that abundance was possible, and that love was the way. The feeding of the five thousand is the only miracle, besides the resurrection, that appears in all four gospels. When read through an intersectional lens, this miracle of loaves and fishes feeding a hungry crowd is, in its embodiment, a lesson on interdependence, community, and the abundance manifested by unnamed women. Women who, just as they do today, carried the mental load of their families. While these women are not named in the actual recounting of the miraculous feeding of the five thousand (Mark 6:31-44), if we read the Gospel of Mark backward, as Bernadette Kiley suggests, we can identify the women in the crowd who were never named but were always there. The invisibility of women is both a biblical and contemporary phenomenon that grants those with privilege and power to revel in the ‘miracle’ of what is available while never honoring the invisible people who make it happen. The women, rarely named or recognized, lean on each other as a marginalized group dedicated to caring for the whole above the individual and, in doing so, embody the true mission of Christ; community. Kiley asserts that,
The retelling must include new threads drawn from our own historical realities of oppression in church and society, our experiences of injustice and marginalization, or our resolution to dismantle the structures of oppression in which we are implicated. Such a stance will not only enable us to call Mark to account for the stories of women in the Gospel but will also give new voices to the ones so dramatically silenced.[1]
When we identify the women in the feeding of the five thousand (men) we can see that their invisibility allows for the abundance of fish and bread to be attributed to a miracle as opposed to what, I assert, it was; an abundant and selfless giving by the women who had come prepared in the ways that women are still expected to. It was their invisible labor that allowed the men to eat. What is discounted as ‘women’s work’ is integral to the ministry of Jesus. It is bread and wine and washing dirty feet and making sure everyone has what they need, even if they didn’t know they would need it. Just as most mothers can always be found with some snack ‘just in case’, it is without question that the women traveling far from home with their families would bring provisions, would carefully plan and pack what would be needed. They would come prepared.
The vastness of what falls under the umbrella of invisible labor rests principally on women and generates the emotional labor which, “is gendered, considered ‘women’s work’ and part of an ongoing history of care-taking labor where certain groups of people (e.g., women, femmes) are expected to give their energy, time, and emotional capacity to serve others.” While the experiences and opportunities for women differ drastically depending on race, ethnicity, gender expression, ability, access to education, and socioeconomic situation, when it comes to invisible and emotional labor, the burden falls squarely on the shoulders of women.
Invisible labor is not calculated as a contribution to families or the community in a way that protects women legally. Research shows that the amount of work that women do in cis-hetero partnerships does not change even when demographics do. An exception, according to Reina Gattuso is that “across the board, research on LGBTQ couples has found a much more equitable distribution of household and parenting tasks than among people in cisgender, male-female partnerships.” Furthermore, Samantha L. Tornello writes, “TGNB (Transgender and Gender Non-Binary) parents report dividing their unpaid household and childcare labor in a generally egalitarian fashion…” While race, class, and education do not affect the amount of invisible and emotional labor that women undertake when the mythical norm is removed from the equation, there is a more equitable distribution of labor that supports family groups functioning.
The women in the feeding of the five thousand are unnamed. Their invisible labor is attributed to a miracle of divine multiplication of edible matter instead of a miracle of radical visibility and community. When Jesus told his disciples in Mark 6:41 to give what they had to the people, he began a movement of communal care that fed the crowd. The women took what they had and shared. It is the women. It always has been. It is the women who keep societies fed, clothed, cared for, and prepared. The fruit of the work is celebrated and enjoyed, but the source is not validated or seen. Our ancestors have known and held the universal experience of women’s invisibility. Our grandmothers, our mothers, our aunties, and us as well. We know what our sisters are holding, the mental gymnastics happening daily to be sure that everyone is where they need to be, that the food is ready to be cooked, that the upcoming event is covered, and that there are snacks. We also know that no one will notice it unless women drop the proverbial ball.
The women, who were never accounted for or named in the Gospel of Mark, only come into view at the end of Jesus’ life as he hangs on the cross: these (women) used to follow him and provide for him (Mark 15:41. These women’s invisible labor made Jesus’ ministry possible. They are named only as the men have scattered, and they hold vigil at Jesus’ execution, not allowing him to die alone but instead surrounded by friends. Women who knew their final labor of love was their presence. As we continue to grow into a community rooted in Christ, we must name and recognize the labor of women. Naming the women continues the work done by our foremothers—dismantling the empire and embodying the Kin-dom.
Where are we, as institutions and individuals, benefiting from the miracle-bearing fruit of women’s labor without recognizing its existence and the personhood embodying it? Where must we name the women?
Emily Rutledge is a family minister, an M.Div student at General Theological Seminary, and a believer in the transformative power of Christ lived out in inclusive, affirming, and safe communities. Emily lives in Crozet, Virginia, with her two hilarious children, one lazy bullmastiff, and a flock of spoiled chickens.
[1] Boer, Roland, and Edgar W. Conrad. 2003. Redirected Travel : Alternative Journeys and Places in Biblical Studies / Edited by Roland Boer & Edgar W. Conrad. T&T Clark International. https://research.ebsco.com/linkprocessor/plink?id=e9d3561d-c06c-3a53-9566-8e535054fd6a.