- 1 The term used by the centre studied is “fxmmes”. The use of the letter “x” is intended to include a (...)
1In September 2023, a day centre for women1 experiencing homelessness opened its doors in the Brussels-Capital Region. Developed through a co-design process incorporating the experiential knowledge of the women concerned, alongside academic and practitioner expertise, this innovative initiative seeks to rethink support for women facing severe precarity and/or homelessness. This article explores how such a space can act as a lever for the development of care relations and practices.
2Since the 1970s, care ethics have been the subject of extensive work by feminist theorists, primarily in the United States [Scrinzi, 2021]. Care is not only a question of ethics, but also a disposition, a practice, a work, and a moral and political concept [Tronto, 2009].
3Care practices are always localised and contextualised [Tronto, 2009]. They unfold within spaces which they help to produce, and which in turn shape them [Milligan and Wiles, 2010]. Space is understood as relational: both a producer and a product of social services [Remy, 2015]. Spatial dimensions influence our practices, just as practices act upon space in an ongoing process of co-construction [Lussault and Stock, 2010]. This article therefore analyses how spatial arrangements – mobilised by social workers – become levers for the development of care relations within the centre.
4This article is structured in four parts: the first addresses women’s homelessness and outlines some of its key challenges; the second situates care ethics and how they are interwoven with space; the third presents the research; and the final section analyses the spatial arrangements through which the centre becomes a support for care for the women there. By examining how material space shapes and supports care relations – while itself being shaped by care practices – within a reception centre for women, this article contributes more broadly to the literature on reception facilities for people experiencing homelessness in the Brussels-Capital Region.
5Since the 2000s, a growing body of research has demonstrated that women’s experiences of homelessness differ from men’s in terms of care, pathways, needs and practices [Marpsat, 1999; Lanzarini, 2003; Casey, Goudie and Reeve, 2008; Bretherton, 2020; Braud and Loison-Leruste, 2022]. While gender is not the sole determinant, it intrinsically shapes experiences of homelessness. Nevertheless, women’s homelessness remains relatively invisible in public space, the media and public policy [Braud and Loison-Leruste, 2022], with implications for the organisation of support services [Rosa, 2022].
6In the Brussels-Capital Region, several studies [Lelubre, 2012; Rosa, 2022] and action-research projects [Liagre, Perdaens and Wagener, 2016; Italiano, 2016; Blogie, 2022] have addressed women’s homelessness. In 2024, Bruss’Help counted 1,991 women experiencing homelessness, representing 20.4 % of the recorded homeless population [Pierre, 2025]. Although the count is attentive to hidden forms of homelessness (temporary accommodation with third parties, etc.) which mainly affect women, these remain difficult to quantify [Blogie, 2022; Pierre, 2025]. Moreover, the typology used does not include people threatened by domestic violence, despite the link between women’s homelessness and domestic abuse [Bretherton and Mayock, 2021].
7The vast majority of women experiencing homelessness have been subjected to gender-based violence at some point in their lives [Loison-Leruste and Perrier, 2019; Loison, 2025]. The majority are victims of intimate partner and/or domestic violence [Fédération des maisons d'accueil et des services d'aide aux sans-abri, 2022]. Within a context of heightened structural precarity for women, such violence both destabilises life trajectories and frequently constitutes a trigger for homelessness [Loison-Leruste and Perrier, 2019; Bretherton, 2020].
8Gender-based violence also shapes women’s day-to-day experiences of homelessness. Sexual assault and rape are pervasive threats in public space when women find themselves on the streets [Lieber, 2008; Blogie, 2022]. Women adopt various strategies in order to protect themselves: forming partnerships, maintaining a well-groomed appearance [Casey, Goudie and Reeve, 2008], masculinisation, prostitution [Maurin, 2017; Almeida Cabral, 2020], or remaining constantly on the move [Maurin, 2017]. However, homelessness services struggle to address gender-based violence suffered by women, often due to a lack of training [Blogie, 2022].
9The Brussels homelessness sector comprises a wide range of public, semi-public and voluntary organisations. The majority of general-purpose facilities (emergency shelters and day centres) are mixed-gender. On the other hand, the number of beds in reception centres reserved for single women or women with children has been rising for several years, exceeding the number reserved for single men [Fédération des maisons d’accueil et des services d’aide aux sans-abri, 2022; Berny and Vanhessen, 2023]. Among the approximately 15 day centres in Brussels, some offer women-only time slots, and one operates exclusively as a women-only space.
10In the public space or in emergency services, there are less homeless women than men [Bretherton and Mayock, 2021], despite the finding that women experience higher levels of material deprivation and discrimination on the housing market [Bernard, 2007]. This may partly reflect a “constrained advantage” linked to traditional representations of gender roles, whereby women – especially mothers – benefit from comparatively greater familial, social or institutional solidarity [Marpsat, 1999; Lelubre, 2012; Loison-Leruste and Perrier, 2019]. The majority of women also use homelessness services as a last resort [Bretherton and Mayock, 2021].
11Yet the lower presence of women in mixed services also reflects a sector designed around a “masculine neutral” [Schmitt, 2022; Braud and Loison-Leruste, 2022]. Reception facilities and services are “for the most part designed for and aimed at a predominantly male public” [Rosa, 2022: 149]. In the Brussels-Capital Region, the vast majority of mixed day centres are used by men (83 %) [Fédération des maisons d'accueil et des services d'aide aux sans-abri, 2022]. Such male predominance may deter women through shame, fear of stigma, fear of male violence, or the presence of former aggressors [Lelubre 2012; Bretherton and Mayock, 2021; Blogie, 2022]. There is a gendered use of space within ostensibly mixed spaces of day centres, which become non-mixed [Marcillat and Maurin, 2018]: men occupy the space and reproduce “a form of spatial domination” [Schmitt, 2021] while women pass through in order to access the services offered.
12Most research on care refers to the pioneering works on the ethics of care written by the American psychologist and philosopher Carol Gilligan and the American feminist political theorist Joan Tronto [Ibos, 2019]. In 1982, Carol Gilligan offered an initial formulation of care ethics in her book In a Different Voice: Psychological Theory and Women's Development. For Gilligan, the ethics of care and relationships constitutes a model of moral development centred on responsibility and the maintenance and preservation of human relationships, grounded in concrete experiences rather than abstract theoretical principles [Gilligan, 2008]. Empirically, the ethics of care have often been associated with women’s experiences and with psychological dispositions resulting from gendered primary socialisation [Tronto, 2009].
13In 1990, Joan Tronto and Berenice Fisher proposed a new definition of care:
“A species activity that includes everything we do to maintain, continue and repair our 'world' so that we can live in it as well as possible. That world includes our bodies, our selves, and our environment, all of which we seek to interweave in a complex, life-sustaining web” [Fisher and Tronto, 1991: 40].
14By considering care as an activity involving responsibilities rather than merely as a psychological disposition associated with women’s experiences, they introduced an important conceptual shift [Paperman, Molinier and Laugier, 2009; Tronto, 2009]. Moreover, in Moral Boundaries: A Political Argument for an Ethic of Care (1993), Joan Tronto argues that care work in western societies is structured not only by gender but also by dynamics of class and race [Tronto, 2009].
15Care ethics reject an individualised, privatised and devalued conception of care. They are based on the recognition of the ontological vulnerability of human beings and their interdependence within relationships of care, which are fundamental to life and present throughout their existence [Paperman, Molinier and Laugier, 2009; Pùig de la Bellacasa, 2017].
16From materialist perspectives, care practices and care spaces have been examined across several disciplinary fields, including the sociology of health and social care [Buse, Martin and Nettleton, 2018], science and technology studies and housing studies [Power and Mee, 2020], as well as architecture and geography [Conradson, 2003; Milligan and Wiles, 2010; Nord and Högström, 2017; Gloesener, 2023]. These studies investigate how interactions between objects, spaces, technologies, temporalities and care practices shape experiences of care [Buse, Martin and Nettleton, 2018]. Care theories are also present in the field of maintenance and repair studies, which highlight the close relationship between practices of maintenance and practices of care [Denis and Pontille, 2022].
17Space can therefore itself become an object of care, through attention, repair, preservation and maintenance practices [Lussault, 2018; Tronto, 2019]. Space may also facilitate the emergence of care relations and function as a support for care [Courbebaisse and Salembier, 2021]. Housing, in particular, is fundamental in order to give and receive care [Desroches, 2020]. What, then, of people experiencing homelessness, whose lack of stable housing hinders their ability to engage in care practices, both for themselves and for others [Power, 2019]?
- 2 A term referring to individuals who are engaged in social support work with people with whom they s (...)
18The fieldwork was conducted between March and June 2024. Identifying as a woman was a prerequisite for access to the research site. Given its capacity to place the researcher at the centre of “situated and contextualised interactions” [Avanza et al., 2025: 4], an inductive ethnographic approach appeared to be the most appropriate method for observing care practices as they unfold. I visited the centre on five occasions in order to carry out observations and conduct in-depth interviews. The study draws on interviews with six women attending the centre and four female staff members (among the latter, the reflections of a peer support worker2 proved particularly enlightening). All interview excerpts cited in this article have been anonymised.
19Most of the questions concerned uses, spatial practices and lived experiences within the centre. The workers shared their reflections on women’s homelessness, as well as on the creation, design and organisation of the centre and their daily work. The women interviewed were living in material conditions very different from my own. The power asymmetries between our respective positions were irreducible, and it would be misleading to obscure them. Although I attempted to recognise and value their expertise during the interviews – by explaining my research approach and personal background and by paying participants – these elements, combined with their lack of understanding of my research topic, paradoxically reinforced my position as an expert. Furthermore, my status was sometimes perceived as that of a social worker, a misunderstanding reinforced by the location of the interviews in one of the centre’s offices. The interviews were marked by many emotions, including anger, sadness, joy and fatigue.
20This section examines how certain spatial arrangements within a day centre can foster care practices and relationships among the women who attend it, thereby supporting the care work undertaken by staff. The spatial arrangements observed are grouped into three themes: a refuge space, a space for caring for one’s appearance, and a second “home”. After presenting the centre itself, this section explores these three themes.
21The centre operates according to a “low-threshold” logic, enabling (almost) unconditional admission for its users, and according to the principle of voluntary non-mixed provision, restricting access to individuals who identify with the female gender – both among staff and among the women attending the centre. At the time of the study, the centre welcomed an average of 20 women each day and offered several services: breakfast, lunch, lockers, showers, laundry facilities, a dressing room, a health clinic, psychosocial support and activities. The staff were trained in intersectional feminist social work intervention [Corbeil and Marchand, 2006] and in the specific issues surrounding women's homelessness. All of the staff members interviewed acknowledged the existence of needs specific to women experiencing severe precarity – corresponding to the first phase of care identified by Joan Tronto: caring about. Based on the needs identified with the women themselves, the workers attempt to develop solutions together with them – corresponding to the second phase: taking care of – by implementing concrete actions (caregiving) in line with the third phase. During monthly focus groups, the women discuss the running of the centre with the workers. These discussions allow the fourth phase of care (care receiving) to be taken into account, enabling practices to be adjusted accordingly [Tronto, 2009; Desroches, 2020].
22The day centre was set up temporarily in the current premises in order to open quickly, yet the location does not meet the criteria originally identified in the action research which led to its creation (“we're not in a space which is suited to the work we do”, Eva, staff member, 2024). Ideally, the centre was intended to be located in a place not identifiable by male users, outside neighbourhoods with concentrations of disadvantaged people, with plenty of light and access to a garden. Instead, it occupies a former social restaurant located in the heart of a neighbourhood where many of the sector's services are located, and the space has no windows and poor sound insulation.
23The centre is arranged over two floors. The ground floor includes the entrance, the social workers’ offices, and a common area consisting of a sofa area, individual tables and a round table, a counter, a tea and coffee area, the kitchen and toilets. The basement – where the ceiling is particularly low, reinforcing the sense that the space is not fully suited to its purpose – contains lockers, a dressing room, laundry facilities and the shower area.
Figure 1. Author’s sketch of the ground floor of the centre
Figure 2. Author’s sketch of the basement of the centre
24For the women attending it, the day centre can function as a refuge. The entrance constitutes both a material and symbolic threshold: once inside, women allow themselves to relax, at least temporarily. The entrance marks the transition from an external environment “perceived and experienced as violent” [Maurin, 2015: 259] to a separate and protected space.
“You see them arrive looking great, like everything is fine. Once inside, they break down, because they know they can do that here. It’s sad – we feel sad – but at the same time we know we’ve managed to create a place where they can talk about what is going on. We can help them carry a bit of the burden and think about possible solutions, things they might never have shared in a mixed space because you just can’t break down like that there” (Megane, staff member, 2024).
“It's like being in your mother's womb. I feel so good. Now I can relax” (Anissa, woman attending the centre, 2023).
25The social workers decided to delay the opening of the centre in order to redesign the entrance area. When the building functioned as a social restaurant, a large glass pane separated users from staff, and documents were passed through a rolling compartment on the counter – “like in administrative offices or at customs” (Elisa, staff member, 2024). The team wanted an entrance which felt welcoming and open, corresponding to what Salembier and Courbebaisse describe as personal distance – “the creation of a protective sphere, the length of an outstretched arm between oneself and another” [Salembier and Courbebaisse, 2023: 108]. The doorframes were also painted in bright colours. The workers paid particular attention to the design of the entrance.
Figure 3. Entrance to the day centre
Photograph by the author, 2024
26Megane (staff member) associates the sense of refuge with the women-only character of the space, which allows different forms of relaxation. During the action-research process conducted with workers in the sector and women experiencing homelessness, the primary need identified was safety in relation to the presence of men [Blogie, 2022]. Unlike Canada – where social intervention policy involves a spatial separation between sex categories – Belgium has tended to favour forms of social intervention based on the co-presence of men and women [Marcillat and Maurin, 2018]. As discussed earlier, however, gender relations continue to shape the presence of women within social institutions and services despite this apparent mixed provision.
27The women attending the centre highlighted several advantages of a non-mixed environment:
“Obviously you’re less at ease, you’re more on your guard, in survival mode, let's say. The difference here is that we can just relax (...) we feel comfortable (...) No man can come in here. It changes everything. You feel a little less vulnerable. I've often been put down by men. Any kind of men, really (...) That's the big difference. For once, we can just let go” (Anaïs, woman attending the centre, 2024).
“It means I can clown around more, have a laugh on my own in front of everyone. It’s easier because there are only women (...) With men it might attract them to me (...) They might think there’s an opening for friendship or something romantic. With women here, that doesn't happen. So it's interesting because I can just be myself” (Samira, woman attending the centre, 2024).
“I’ve been to other centres, but if the guys there see that you’re dressed a bit nicer, looking good, they start… You know what I mean. It makes you feel disgusted. You don’t even want to stay” (Sofia, woman attending the centre, 2024).
28The presence of men in mixed settings can operate as a constant reminder of gender norms, through a continuum of practices related to gender-based violence which function as social control over women’s bodies and behaviour [Schmitt, 2022]. The non-mixed nature of the centre allows Anaïs to feel “a little less vulnerable”. Her comments reflect the idea of “female vulnerability” internalised by women and men through the integration of dominant gender norms. In contemporary western societies, socially constructed characteristics and stereotypes are associated with each gender, and this masculine-feminine dichotomy is based in particular on the opposition between strength and weakness [Bereni et al., 2012]. Research by Marylène Lieber on gender, violence and public space in France shows that this sense of vulnerability is accompanied by gendered fears stemming from “representations and experiences of victimisation lived by the woman herself or by members of her social group” [Lieber, 2008: 264]. Anaïs recounts her experience of being belittled by men. Samira, by contrast, allows herself to “clown around” and occupy space within the centre, thereby transgressing gender norms. Both describe remaining constantly alert in the presence of men and adapting their behaviour accordingly. For Sofia, a non-mixed environment allows her to escape the heterosexual male gaze which reduces the female body to an available sexual object.
29At the centre, women escape from violence – from the street, from men being “too much” (Anissa, a woman attending the centre, 2024) or from society – for a few hours, and adopt forms of relaxation. Spatial separation and the break with the outside world create a space of safety and freedom [Maurin, 2015].
“They allow themselves things they wouldn't necessarily allow in another centre or with other professionals” (Eva, staff member, 2024).
30This is reflected in their spatial practices within the centre: for instance, women walk around in towels in the shower area. Such an environment also facilitates discussion of gender-based violence experienced by the women.
“They don’t share the same things. They may go to a mixed centre to use the services, but they won’t talk about the violence they’re experiencing.” (Eva, staff member, 2024).
31In the basement of the centre, the dressing room and the make-up table receive special attention from staff members. In a small, dimly lit room – previously used to store refrigerators – there is a dressing space. Clothes of various colours and fabrics are arranged on hangers along all four walls. Every day, women can try on and take clothing items. While access to clothing is a common service within social support provision, the creation of an organised and carefully maintained dressing room is far less common.
“We wanted a real dressing room. We didn't want bins (...). We wanted them to feel like taking care of themselves. Because that's where it starts. It starts with your self-image. That's something really important (...). They really take the time to try on different clothes. To try on several outfits which they feel better in. They ask us for advice. They ask each other for advice” (Megane, staff member, 2024).
“In the changing room, people often bring new things. We love that. Everyone can find something they like” (Anaïs, woman attending the centre, 2024).
32In the corridor, a small make-up table has also been set up and is widely used by the women. Creams, shower gels and quality make-up products (“when you have a nice shower gel that smells good, or a nice perfume… it matters” Megan, staff member, 2024) are available in the laundry room from a staff member.
Figure 4. The make-up table
Photograph by the author, 2024
33Self-image – particularly the image reflected in the mirror – is a crucial element in the development of emancipatory pathways among women experiencing homelessness. This relationship to one’s appearance can be analysed through the work of the French feminist philosopher Camille Froidevaux-Metterie, which forms part of what she calls the genital turning point in feminism. In Un corps à soi (A Body of Your Own), she advocates a reversal in the way we approach women's relationship to beauty. Rather than interpreting the pursuit of beauty – or care for one’s appearance – as a form of alienation from patriarchal society and the male gaze, which deprives women of agency and reflexivity, she proposes understanding it as “a form of self-appropriation which is also a form of self-enhancement” [Froidevaux-Metterie, 2023: 319]: self-care. From this perspective, beautification practices express the bodily value and dignity which individuals attribute to themselves [Froidevaux-Metterie, 2023]. In this sense, these forms of bodily care – in the dressing room and at the make-up table – bear witness to the women’s agency and are linked to the value they attribute to themselves as human beings. Both spaces are the object of care by the centre’s staff: they replenish, fold and organise the clothing, remember individual preferences, expand the make-up area at the women’s request, and so forth. At the same time, these spaces encourage the women to engage in care practices (caregiving) directed towards their appearance – and, by extension, towards themselves.
34Some women have developed a sense of familiarity with and attachment to the workers, the centre and the other women who go there. Anissa, who has been going to the centre since it opened, says that she feels “at home”: “it's my second home”. In this way, she has developed a sense of “home”, without actually being at home.
35According to French sociologist Pascale Pichon [2019], the feeling of “home” manifests itself through individuals' attachments to both people and objects, as well as through processes of spatial arrangement, establishment and appropriation. Similarly, researcher Ariane d’Hoop, in her work on the role of spatial arrangements in care practices within a psychiatric day centre for adolescents, argues that space can offer material opportunities for creating familiar relationships with “things, people and the environment”[d'Hoop, 2023: 59]. She also highlights the ambiguity produced by these places, where living spaces become both domestic and professional, thereby blurring the roles of occupants and the very function of the space itself [d'Hoop, 2023]. Within the day centre, certain spatial arrangements and objects provide (relative) possibilities for appropriation [Serfaty-Garzon, 2003], making it possible to establish routines and develop a set of reference points [Pichon, 2019].
“If you look at the mugs, no two are the same (...) And the women often arrive and say, ‘Where's the mug with Tweety and Sylvester? That's my mug!’ (...) They develop these little habits” (Megane, staff member, 2024).
36The furniture for the day centre was carefully selected by the staff. In the common area, there is a large round table as well as smaller wooden tables. The crockery is varied and freely available. The variety of objects reflects a desire to personalise the space, but also to offer a range of choices: sitting alone at a small table, chatting at the large table, choosing a mug and making a coffee, and so on.
“It’s about having choices (...) because when you’re on the street, you never have choices – or if you do, it’s choosing between the lesser of two evils. Here, having choices – good choices (...) That's what we really wanted” (Megane, staff member, 2024).
Figure 5. The different tables in the centre
Photographs by the author, 2024
37People experiencing homelessness are often reduced to their basic needs both in representations and in institutional practices [Rosa, 2022]. The material environment of the centre offers women room for manoeuvre, allowing them to make choices and express their own preferences. This implies recognising their agency, which they are deprived of in other contexts. The staff aim to create a space where women can temporarily step outside the social role assigned to them as homeless individuals by engaging in gestures and activities associated with everyday life in a home.
“For two hours, you’re just normal. You watch a film with friends, you laugh or cry depending on the film. Just that – little moments that remind you it’s possible [to imagine an alternative to life on the street]” (Megane, staff member, 2024).
Figure 6. Colourful mugs to suit every taste
Photograph by the author, 2024
38Here again, through the selection of objects, the arrangement of the space, and certain activities, staff members attempt to encourage women to engage in self-care practices (caregiving), thereby initiating processes through which they begin to take responsibility for and address (take care of) their own situations.
39Women’s homelessness is an increasingly pressing issue given the scale of the phenomenon, particularly in the Brussels-Capital Region. This article sheds new light on the reception areas for homeless women. Drawing on an ethnography conducted in a day centre for homeless women, as well as interviews with staff members and the women using the service, this article explores how the material environment – its objects and spatial arrangements – can support the care work carried out by social workers, even within a building which was initially ill-suited to this purpose, while also fostering the development of care relationships among the women who attend the centre.
40The ethics of care manifest here within social work practices and also take concrete form through the spatial arrangements designed by staff members, which themselves require ongoing care. The spatial arrangements analysed in this article were categorised into three themes: a refuge space, a space for caring for one’s appearance, and a second “home”. Firstly, the non-mixed nature of the space, which is occupied exclusively by women, creates a “safe haven” from gender-based violence. The absence of men and the specialised training of staff members allow women to share certain experiences and adopt behaviours they might otherwise suppress. The dressing room and the make-up table function as levers for the development of care relationships directed towards the women’s appearance – and, by extension, towards themselves. In fact, the existence of these spaces and the care invested in them by staff members encourages women to take care of themselves. The personalisation of the environment through domestic furniture and everyday objects enables women to develop familiarity with and attachment to the space – a second “home” – which can encourage them to take care of themselves. By stepping outside their socially assigned role as homeless individuals through activities and the room for manoeuvre created by spatial arrangements (for example by establishing routines or making choices through everyday objects), women may be supported in initiating processes aimed at securing housing and improving their situation.
41This article contributes to the literature examining the spatial organisation of health and care institutions by illustrating how spaces can shape care practices – either facilitating them or, conversely, hindering them – and how these spatial arrangements are themselves shaped by care practices within relational dynamics. The ethics of care do not provide instructions, blueprints or universal spatial forms of application. Care is above all a practice embedded in specific contexts and needs, shaped by the populations concerned and unfolding over time. It invites us to consider the care environment – including space itself [Courbebaisse and Salembier, 2021] – to pay attention to subtle elements which may easily be overlooked – such as crockery – and to move beyond a strictly functional vision of reception spaces in order to design environments which provide room for manoeuvre to those who use them [d'Hoop, 2023]. Within the day centre, the material environment and the work carried out by the team create such room for manoeuvre for the women by recognising their agency. Staff members thus avoid a reductive vision which opposes vulnerability and agency [Rosa, 2022; Butler, 2013]. In this way, the centre seeks to provide “a context capable of strengthening the capacities for care” [Desroches, 2020: 63; Power, 2019] among the women who attend it.
I would like to thank the participants for their time; Jean-Didier Bergilez, the supervisor of the thesis which this article is based on; Chloé Salembier; the proofreaders; and the editorial team for their feedback and advice.