Learning to Care: Feminist Teaching in a Time of Backlash
time to read: 6 min
The RN-WPS (Research Network – Women, Peace and Security) Pedagogies symposium that took place at Toronto Metropolitan University on the 6th and 7th of February 2025, was jampacked with several titbits of learning and reflection. Featuring eight interactive sessions, the panelists, diverse in their experiences and areas of expertise, reflected on the teaching methods they implemented while teaching peace and security to their students. One thing that was woven into all the panels and activities of the symposium was- care.
Why does care matter to me?
I asked this question to myself many times, as I was reflecting on the learnings from the symposium. I realized that talking about care is important because I share a love-hate relationship with it. Being raised in a patriarchal society, care is highly feminized. Women are often put under the expectation of imparting care. I abhorred the idea of taking on this burden of care. Yet, I chose care implicitly, always. Before pursuing gender studies, I was a mental health care worker. So, I learned to give care. I now work at a community-based organization, and I work closely with many Indigenous and immigrant communities, who centre care around reciprocity, connections to nature and land, and community togetherness. l I have always seen, given and received care in many ways. It, therefore, comes as no surprise when I noticed how care was embedded in the teachings of this symposium, too.
The ethic of care is not new to academia in any way. Feminist and Indigenous scholars across the globe have recognized the importance of care in classrooms and in the real world. My reflections on care are multifaceted. Firstly, providing peace and security is a form of care. Then there is the care that is an integral part of teaching peace and security from a feminist lens. This care then expands to include a solidarity network that keeps us going amidst burnout and the global anti-feminist backlash.
Care in classrooms, peace and security:
Many panelists and speakers spoke about the need to integrate an intersectional lens into the matters of women, peace and security, which is an act of care, for me. Care to me, also means actively listening to and valuing lived experiences that are often dismissed or silenced, something which several speakers vehemently spoke about. Traditional peace and security frameworks often prioritize state actors and militaries; intersectional care asks who is missing from that picture—like displaced women of colour, 2SLGBTQ+ folks, folks with disabilities and so on. Interestingly, I find that these traditional frameworks are being mirrored in classrooms, too. I have observed that the flow of knowledge is unidirectional, usually from the instructor to the student, which often creates an imbalanced power dynamic. I have found that care in classrooms helps foster intersectional and reciprocal knowledge creation. This reciprocity in learning is needed to recognize who and what is missing from the classroom discussions. Many symposium speakers spoke to this point, and demonstrated classroom care by diversifying their syllabus, including global perspectives on peace and security, experimenting with their teaching methods via roundtable discussions, introducing simulation-based teaching, and creating training of trainers’ modules and introducing arts-based and sports-based teaching methods.
To apply the intersectional lens effectively to peace and security concerns, it is important to inculcate reflexivity. Reflexivity is also a form of care. Peace and security concerns are complex, and care via reflexivity is what helps uncover these complexities. When I think about reflexive care in peace and security, I often think about who defines peace and security, who we call a victim, the language we use to define these terms and the beneficiaries of peace and security. Practicing reflexivity and answering these questions requires cultural sensitivity. And, to be able to be culturally sensitive, it is necessary to be aware of one’s privilege, position in relation to those we care about, in the form of providing peace and security measures, if we can impart the needed care and if the caregiving is benefiting those in need. The symposium helped shine a light on this through not just the panel presentations but also the interactive activities.
For instance, the symposium featured a Dungeons and Dragons style role play-based game. I was intrigued in its application in peace and security. The game was played in a group, where each member was assigned a character. Each character had a unique background, diverse set of skills and powers, and these impacted the character’s position and relationship to other characters in the game. My group was assigned a mission- to rescue villagers from a natural calamity. I was playing a background character of a team lead. While the game progressed, I had to impart care! It was in form of a pep talk to one of my teammates, whose character was triggered by their past trauma, and that impacted the mission. Being in that character, observing the consequences of my actions and the group decisions, helped me understand the aims of a peace and security mission while implementing intersectionality and reflexivity. For me, the value of role play-based games extends to classrooms as well. These simulated games foster a safe space for students to reflect on real world situations and practice care.
Care as consciousness raising:
My biggest takeaway from the symposium was getting reminded that imparting care can result in receiving care, too. In times of a global anti-feminist backlash, it is quite easy to lose hope and ask - “but what is the point- of teaching or learning gender studies or peace and security?”. “What is the point of carrying on with my work?”. “What is the point when people do not seem to care anymore?” With rising anti-gender hate and policies, I have asked myself these questions several times. It can be exhausting to perform care day in and day out. During global backslash, which often results in poly-crisis, it’s so easy to face burnout. The symposium, however, reminded me that moving from “despair to hope” is possible, through care.
The symposium, a congregation of diverse people with one goal- of helping teach women, peace and security was like a form of consciousness-raising for me. I found solidarity and community care in those two days. For me, the symposium itself was a minute yet significant act of revolution and persistence in these troubled times. I realized then that resistance against gender backlash can be an everyday action, as it always has been. My resistance can be shaped as quiet feminism in the form of a Trojan Horse. That is, acting in ways that further feminist agendas while maintaining a low profile in the very environment threatening the emergence of feminist thought and actions. The answer to “What is the point?” is simple. It’s through giving care that we can receive more care.
Acknowledgement:
I am grateful to all the Indigenous people of Turtle Island for welcoming me and letting me work and study on their land. I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to Dr. Luna KC and Dr. Rebecca Tiessen for supporting and inspiring me throughout the creation of this blog. Whether through direct encouragement, thoughtful feedback, or simply taking the time to read my blog,— your support has made this blog possible. I also thank my colleague and friend, Wathsala D’Silva for her encouragement.
Special thanks to the organizing committee of the RN-WPS symposium, Toronto Metropolitan University, Canadian Forces College, Queens University, Centre for International and Defence Policy and MINDS.