The Heart of Doula Work: Community Over Capitalism

As World Doula Week begins, I find myself reflecting on why I became a doula. What drew me to this specialized work? In my decade of childcare jobs prior to this I saw a gap—parents navigating the postpartum period without enough support, often feeling isolated and overwhelmed. I, like so many others, wanted to be part of a culture shift, one where care and community were prioritized. I wanted to advocate for birthing people and underrepresented communities, fighting for reproductive justice at a time when it is deeply needed.

But as I’ve built my practice, I’ve also seen another side of this work that’s disheartening. The doula world, like so many industries under capitalism, is not immune to exploitation. And frustratingly, this exploitation often comes from within our own community.

Don’t get me wrong, there is a necessary and valid place for doulas to be paid for their knowledge and services. Our work is valuable, and education and mentorship deserve compensation. But what happens when the very people who are supposed to be supporting doulas such as collectives, referral programs, and training organizations begin operating in predatory ways that take more from birth workers than they give? Masking their greed behind virtue signaling language. Preying on those who want to make a difference, convincing them that they have the key to success (and you want to be successful, right?)

In the year since I moved cross country and started trying to get connected to a new community of doulas I have turned down multiple collectives charging large fees just for the possibility of a job and community. I have been discouraged by referral programs that pushed me to raise my rates—not because they believed in fair pay, but because their percentage-based fees meant they would make more money off my work (all to be ghosted). I was part of a training for an organization charging families extremely steep prices while offering the actual doulas lower rates than any of us would accept in our solo practices. And every time I come across a highly followed doula on Instagram, these organizations are always promoted as a must for “building your business” (right alongside their business coaching course—you can access all their tips, for a price, of course).

It’s exhausting. And it’s not what doula work should be about.

We step into this work because we are craving a new system of care. We believe in mutual support. We believe that families should be held through their most vulnerable transitions. So why have we created internal systems that mirror the same structures that create the gaps we are aiming to fill?

Gatekeeping knowledge, requiring doulas to pay steep fees just to be in community with each other, or prioritizing profit over sustainability for those doing the actual work—these things do not build a thriving doula community. They drain us. They are just as discouraging to new doulas—who see these avenues as investing in their budding careers—as they are to seasoned doulas who are exhausted by the pay-to-play model of community. They also create a hierarchy where only those with the privilege and resources to access these spaces can succeed, once again leaving behind underrepresented communities. Do you see the issue?

The girlboss-ification of birthwork, an industry rooted in justice and equity, should not be encroached on by anyone who sees dollar signs in the faces of the vulnerable. 

I might not have the answers right now, but I know this: True community care is built on reciprocity, not exploitation. If we want to see real change in the way doulas are valued—by families, by medical systems, by society—we have to start by valuing each other. We have to question business models that profit off birth workers instead of supporting them. We have to lift each other up, share knowledge in ways that are sustainable and fair, and stop normalizing the idea that making a living as a doula requires paying endless fees just to exist in this space.

This World Doula Week, I hope we can all reflect on what drew us to this work. If our values have shifted along the way, my hope is that we are able to come back to what’s really at the heart of doula work. Showing up for each other. Pushing back on exploitative systems, even (and especially) when they come from within our own industry. And fighting against the capitalistic norms that stigmatized birthworkers in the first place. Because if we are truly called to support families, we need to support our fellow doulas, too.