Shannan Guillory

Shannan is a licensed funeral director, author, consultant and content creator who spends the bulk of her time guiding grieving families through what is arguably the worst time of their lives. She holds a BA in Sociology from the University of California, Riverside.

Over the years, she's been fortunate enough to serve many amazing families of varying ethnicities, religious, and cultural backgrounds and one thing remained constant–they had all lost someone they loved and didn’t know what to do next. She knew it was time for a change. Shannan is helping people of color rebuild their relationship with death; shifting from a space of fear, to one of understanding.

In 2017, she launched “I Do Death”, a blog where she not only pens stories about her knowledge of the industry, but shares tips and lessons learned on her own grief journey.

Shannan has always been a huge fan of words, and writing proved to be a great sense of comfort for her after experiencing a close traumatic loss. In 2019, she released a coffee table book entitled “Dear Grief, You’re a B*tch”, a short series of five fictional stories loosely based on the Kübler-Ross stages of grief. While initially a way to make sense of her own feelings, this project morphed into a way to broker conversations around different parts of the grieving process and how each of us navigate them.

In 2023, she took this work to a new level and created “Get Stiff” , a podcast where she and her cohost have hard conversations around grief, loss, and everything in between, over cocktails. By having tough discussions with industry experts in a casual setting, she is hoping to create accessible spaces for those who grieve differently.

Shannan has been a guest on a number of podcasts including “Ladies Doing Stuff”, “The Mortuary Show”, “Black Girls’ World” and “Sis, I’m Drinking My Water and Minding My Business”. She has also been featured in Voyage LA Magazine, and in US Urns Online’s “5 Best Funeral Blogs”.

A native of South Central Los Angeles, Shannan loves all things about her city and is passionate about highlighting the culture, people, and promoting healthy discourse about taboo topics. She enjoys reading, eating tacos, screaming her heart out at karaoke, and spending time with her family and friends.

What was the catalyst for you stepping into this work? How did you end up here, at this moment, doing what you do?

I’ve been a funeral director for over a decade, and I love what I do. One thing I began to notice was that, while the needs of the people who were experiencing loss continued to change, the funeral industry would remain constant and refuse to offer anything more than their traditional services. Funeral homes were great at handling the logistics, but terrible at providing the support a grieving family needs. My own traumatic loss in 2017 forced me to take a look at how unsupported I felt by my own colleagues and leadership, and I knew something needed to change. 

What do you hope people get from working with you or interacting with your services?

I want to create spaces that feel seen, heard, and supported on their grief journey. I want people who aren’t grieving to feel better equipped to support those who are.

What do you wish was different about the way we are supported when dying, grieving, and navigating end-of-life in general? What would you change?

I wish we talked more openly about it. If grief is a universal experience, why do we shy away from speaking about it? Why are we expected to suppress how we feel to make everyone else more comfortable? I think a lot needs to change, honestly. Throw the whole system away and start from scratch. I would start with bereavement policies in the workplace. Five days for an immediate family member is absolutely laughable. I remember how much pushback my company gave me for trying to take more time off, and how I came back sooner than I was ready for, which resulted in an entirely different wave of issues. If this is how funeral homes “support” grieving staff, considering the line of work we are in, I can only imagine what it’s like for people in other industries. I wish we could change what the perception of grief is. People of color grieve differently. As a Black woman in a predominantly white space, most of my grief was perceived as an attitude. It was perceived as hostile, and inappropriate. The work I do is meant to change that perception; to normalize different ways of grieving so more work isn’t added onto the person who is trying to heal. Why are grievers expected to mask for others? Changing the narrative around what grief looks like is just the starting point to making sure that people have the space to heal without worrying about the risk of losing their livelihood. 

What would you say to someone who is nervous about attending events about death or grief?

I’d love to simply say “don’t be nervous”, but we know it’s more complicated than that. I would approach it from a standpoint of receiving a gift. What questions do you have for someone who is no longer here? Do you want your family to have those same questions? Speaking about death does not invite it in. Instead, it empowers people to make their own choices, and take that burden off of the ones they love most. It’s a gift to your family to be prepared, so that you don’t leave them scrambling, guessing and fighting over what you would have wanted. 

If someone meets you at the resource fair - what's a question you invite them to ask you? 

How can the funeral industry and the wellness industry work harmoniously to support grievers?