‘Oh My God,You Are So Sexy’: Constructing sexuality through spatial aesthetics in women’s co-working spaces

The case

Coworking spaces offer flexible, shared work settings where individuals can rent desks on a daily, weekly, or monthly basis (Merkel, 2015). These shared workspaces enable an eclectic group of remote workers, entrepreneurs, and freelancers to “work alone together,” share a physical space, and allocate their time between work-related tasks and community-forming activities (Garrett, Spreitzer, & Bacevice, 2017; Howell, 2022; Spinuzzi, 2012). Overall, coworking spaces are highly aestheticized to encourage communication, collaboration, and creativity (Bouncken & Aslam, 2023) as well as to attract paying members, with their design promoting social interactions among users.

Coworking spaces for women stand out as unique organizations in the coworking landscape because they are not just shared work environments but also social hubs and support networks. These spaces, founded, designed, and managed by women worldwide, are specifically tailored to meet women’s needs. They offer a flexible, communal-oriented working environment that aims not only to promote women’s businesses but also to provide a safe space from the sexism and general discomfort often experienced in gender-mixed coworking spaces (Akhavan et al., 2022; Kelly et al., 2020).

This study was based on two private, for-profit, vibrant, city-centered WOCWS: one located in Tel-Aviv, Israel, which we refer to as Artemis, and the other located in Manhattan, New York, which we named Enlightenment (names are pseudonyms). Based on Poussier’s (2020) classification of WOCWS—parent-friendly, clubs, women-first, women-only, work collectives, and diversity promoters—both our case studies are combinations of women-first and social clubs. Nevertheless, both WOCWS operate on a business model centered around attracting and retaining customers. As such, they must focus on drawing in clients, ensuring their continued engagement, and maintaining a steady flow of membership renewals.

Despite their different locations, the two workspaces are embedded in a similar gender culture, and both places were founded by women to empower, nurture, and support women entrepreneurs. For a monthly membership fee of $200–325, they offer large shared workspaces, options for private offices, office services, and work facilities such as a kitchenette, meeting rooms, and a lounge area. Approximately 100 space users regularly attend each of the workspaces; the majority are middle-class women from diverse ethnicities, along with a small number of men who identify with the feminist agenda of these workplaces.

The founders of both workplaces hired women designers, were highly involved in the workspace’s planning and design processes, and managed them daily. Both workplaces offer activities to promote women professionally, such as workshops, lectures, and mentoring sessions on various entrepreneurial topics. Finally, to encourage a supportive community, they allocate unique areas for social interactions, such as a bar or restaurant, where members eat and drink alcoholic beverages together. Despite the similarities, there was no prior acquaintance or mutual impact between the two WOCWS. Thus, we assumed that the similarities between both places reflect a comparable managerial mindset.

Data collection

The study was conducted between 2019 and 2022, during which the first author joined the WOCWS as a member to gain full access to the coworking space and its social and professional activities. After identifying herself as an academic researcher interested in women’s coworking spaces, she ensured that participation in the study was grounded on informed consent.

The study included observations and interviews that allowed us to examine the organizational aesthetics, spacing practices, and space users’ subjective experiences. Specifically, we interviewed 40 space users, aged 22 to 65, from various occupations: four women founders/managers, four women employees (who worked at the front desk or in customer relations), and 32 members (19 women and three men), who were “purposively” sampled (Blaxter, Hughes, & Tight, 1996). The interviews, lasting 60 to 90 minutes and audio recorded, began with a description of the study’s purpose and obtaining informed consent. All the names used in the study are pseudonyms. In addition, we have conducted 530 hours of on-site participant observations to detect social interactions, movement patterns, and bodily gestures and to capture space aesthetics. We documented the workspace’s visual and material features (design, furniture, lighting, artwork, decorative objects, and various artifacts) through photographs with the founders’ consent.

Data analysis

An interpretive analysis was conducted based on a meticulous synthesis of the managers’ and designers’ intentions regarding the workspace, the users’ experiences, and the workspace’s observable material and aesthetic qualities. The analysis was carried out at numerous levels and stages.

We initially examined the data using thematic analysis, in which interviews were coded to generate first-order concepts from the participants’ descriptions. At the same time, we classified bodily practices and spatial habits, such as movement, gestures, and social interactions, as observed through researchers’ observations and users’ depictions, to identify repeating behavioral patterns.

In the second stage, we visually analyzed the organizational aesthetics, including artworks, decor, furniture, shapes, colors, textures, and light, to discern the cultural and social messages these aesthetic choices transmitted. We employed an “archaeological approach” that analyzes existing visuals (artwork and artifacts) within the organization to reconstruct the underlying meaning structures evident in their features (Meyer, Höllerer, Jancsary, & Van Leeuwen, 2013). We analyzed the social knowledge or cultural conventions “stored” and “transmitted” in these visuals. For example, we analyzed the colors or patterns in the artwork presented in the workspace and traced the underlying social significance embedded within them. Such an approach can help uncover how visuals and other aesthetic forms are utilized to construct subjects and subjectivity, particularly regarding gender (Meyer et al., 2013).

The first coding process revealed a prominent motif of sexuality that characterizes the workplace, so in the third stage, we reread the materials, mapping all indications relating to sexuality while establishing subcategories and related issues, as well as looking for codes across interviews and observations.

In the fourth stage, we continued the visual analysis while employing a “dialogic technique,” which incorporates images to stimulate discussion about organizational life (Meyer et al., 2013). We further questioned participants about sensual and erotic visuals displayed in the workspace. We asked them to describe the visuals not in terms of what is in the image but rather in terms of what the image means, represents, or symbolizes (Shortt & Warren, 2019). Integrating the archaeological and dialogical methods enabled us to leverage material and aesthetic items to expose underlying meaning structures.

In the fifth and final stage, we organized all the information gained from the thematic and visual analyses. We searched for links between categories to group these into theoretically distinct clusters of related themes. This involved revisiting the literature and sifting, charting, and sorting the data by key themes. This open-ended yet systematic approach provided fuller insights into organizational dynamics (Shortt & Warren, 2019) and allowed three themes concerning sexuality in a feminine workspace to be identified and theorized.

Spacing sexuality through the dialectics between emotional-nurturing and sexual femininities

Our findings reveal that the process of spacing sexuality and constructing a new image of woman entrepreneurship was conducted by integrating two stereotypical, contrasting images of femininity: emotional-nurturing and sexual femininity. We exemplify this process through the aesthetic choices that resulted in an aesthetic assemblage of these two images of femininity, thus opposing the dichotomy between them. This assemblage aligns with Kornberger and Clegg’s (2003) notion of “architecture of complexities” as it fosters plurality and contradictions. To analyze how this aesthetic complexity was materialized, we draw on Alexandersson and Kalonaityte’s (2018) design styles, showing how both WOCWS were planned as an assemblage of home-like and nightlife designs—for instance, soft home-like couches along with photographs of sexy women, a pastel-colored dressing room with sexual phrases engraved on mirrors, and a homey kitchen with drinking glasses adorned with sexist statements (see Figure 1).

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Figure 1.

Spatial assemblages at Enlightenment.

The two aesthetic styles of home and nightlife echo two sets of gender performances that the founders of the WOCWS saw as complementary and wished to encourage simultaneously. Whereas the home-like design aimed to encourage interpersonal intimacy (by providing a comfortable space for women that promotes interpersonal closeness and nurturing relations), the nightlife design aimed to enhance physical intimacy through blunt sexuality, outgoingness, and “having fun” (by shaping a vivid, updated, and dramatic environment). Aesthetically, the home-like design was represented through the arrangement of sofas, armchairs, coffee tables, and bookshelves, reminiscent of a living room or drawing room. In contrast, the nightlife design drew on bold colors and images, imitating restaurants, bars, or nightclubs. Spacing such an “architecture of complexity” involved harmonizing between two aesthetic designs, as Artemis’s designer stated:

It’s very difficult to create a space that, on the one hand, functions as a very pleasant work environment in the daytime and looks dramatic and powerful in the evening. We decided to take the [furniture] colors from the greens to blues and velvets to that drama that takes place at night.

However, while Alexandersson and Kalonaityte (2018) contrasted these two design styles, attributing sexuality merely to the nightlife design, in our case, they were entangled to comprise an aesthetic assemblage where sexuality was also present in the kitchen, the living room, and other workspaces. Consequently, a new, more complex, and multilayered form of sexuality was constructed for the women users of both WOCWS through constant negotiation between the two aesthetic representations of femininity. In both WOCWS, this new form of sexuality was realized through furniture and cushions covered with velvet or fur-like fabrics, large art images, and other decor artifacts along with blunt sexual images. For example, large pictures displayed women’s figures or body parts in what interviewees interpreted as a sensual and sexy manner and below living room sofas. As seen in Figure 2a, in Enlightenment’s space, one of the pictures showed two women posed in a way that suggests a kiss or intimate touch between them. Figure 2b shows a topless woman floating in pool water, and Figure 2c shows a close-up of slightly parted woman’s lips—a pose that suggests stereotypical feminine sexuality.

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Figure 2.

Art pictures in Enlightenment space.

Similarly, the art choices in Artemis exemplified a blunt sexuality entangled with a homey environment. The predominant color of the pictures and artworks hanging in the workspace is red, which participants interpreted as a symbol of temptation and seduction (Elliot & Niesta, 2008), as well as interpersonal warmth and intimacy. Figure 3a depicts a woman with bold, sensual lips and a red eye mask that makes her look mysterious and seductive. Figure 3b, located at the workspace’s entrance, presents two photos displayed side by side, posing two women’s images facing each other. Both are identical: bare shoulders, one hand close to their highlighted lips, and a bright-red earring dangling from their ears. The third picture, Figure 3c, displays a heavily made-up woman figure with a tattoo on her bare shoulder and a black collar around her neck against a vivid red background.

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Figure 3.

Art pictures in Artemis space.

Although these images were experienced as sexualized, they also represented a new form of sexuality that echoes “love as doing” (hooks, 2000; Kiriakos & Tienari, 2018) not in its traditional sense that associates sexuality with physical intercourse but rather as an act of women’s proximity and intimacy (Bell & Sinclair, 2014). This is exemplified in the designer’s words regarding Figure 3b:

We wanted women to call each other. . . This is actually the model; this is the vision. The picture is meant to encourage women to interact with each other.

This design was interpreted by many space users as unusual. Ben, a male member at Artemis, contended that eroticism was present but in a “different” manner:

The black ceiling combined with this soft yellow light and the art choices. . . look [points to one of the art pictures]. This is not a picture you would see in any other workspace; it has an implicit and subtle eroticism.

Furthermore, Liz, Enlightenment’s founder, offers another interpretation as she admits that sexuality was deliberate and that the sexual images were a feminist statement aimed at reclaiming the female body. According to Liz, the images’ message is that female nudity is not intended to satisfy male lust but to make women feel comfortable and proud:

These images were created by a woman artist who took old magazine advertisement shots and transformed them into something artistic. Why not? Instead of using a woman’s body to sell some product, here we celebrate it, looking at it as something artistic.

However, adopting a critical perspective reveals that the way the founders materialize sexuality is embedded within gendered stereotypical perceptions (Just & Muhr, 2020). Despite the attempt to construct a new form of woman entrepreneur that integrates both feminine images (emotional and sexual), it remained, to some extent, limited by the heteronormative perspective, where female sexuality is presented through artistic images of naked, seductive, and youthful women. This tension between the two feminine spatial representations also aligns with the dialectical perspective of spacing (Beyes, 2018). From this perspective, everyday interactions both enable and constrain how femininity is imagined and reshaped (Beyes & Steyaert, 2012; Steyaert, 2010).

The dialectic of reproducing gender stereotypes and masculine norms while simultaneously reclaiming sexuality was also manifested in other artifacts within the space. Figures 4a–4c exemplify objects that use common sexist phrases to give them a different meaning. In Figure 4a, the term “bitch,” a sexist pejorative epithet for women, was imprinted on a mirror, accompanied by an interpretation offering an alternative, positive meaning: “a woman who confidently expresses her opinion in the workplace.” Another decor piece, shown in Figure 4b, alters the term “gold digger”—typically referring to a woman who enters into a personal relationship with a man to extract money from him—to “goal digger.” This rephrasing accords women with the qualities of goal orientation and motivation to achieve their targets. Figure 4c displays the sentence, “It takes balls to be a woman,” which uses male genitalia to indicate qualities of power, courage, and determination and attributes them to women, stamped on glasses.

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Figure 4.

Decor objects in Enlightenment.

Spacing a safe space through the dialectics between vulnerable and pleasure-seeking feminine sexualities

A second dialectic in constructing a safe space for women revolves around conceptualizing sex as either danger or pleasure (Noble, 2010). While WOCWS as safe spaces attempted to disassociate sexuality from unequal (dangerous) power relations, they also reconnected power and sexuality by facilitating sexual extroversion and aggressiveness for pleasure. The same space that some used to associate sexuality with interpersonal closeness and affection (Burrell, 1984)—thereby weakening the link between sex and power—others employed to engage in aggressive acts of reversing the male gaze by objectifying men. As we next exemplify, this tension was manifested in various embodied practices and corporeal gestures.

In many of our observations in both WOCWS, we noticed that women often compliment each other on their sexual appearance during corridor conversations and engage in intimate discussions. In one case, we heard a woman commend her friend on how the shirt “look[ed] good on her breasts.” On a different occasion, we overheard another woman telling her friends about her habit of keeping her phone in her bra while wearing a dress or skirt without pockets and how it feels when her phone vibrates. These examples reflect the ambiguity of women’s sexuality as empowerment: on the one hand, they may be seen as manifestations of affection, love, and proximity, while on the other, they perpetuate women as sexual subjects. To remain faithful to the interviewees’ experiences, we will present their interpretations of performing sexuality before critically examining how these behaviors are also rooted in gender conventions they resist.

While in mixed-gender environments, sexual cues might have been interpreted as sexually threatening or harassing, in the context of WOCWS, these were interpreted as flattering and pleasurable. In contrast to the masculine, competitive, entrepreneurial environment, in the safe spaces of WOCWS, women could practice embodied, sensuous, and emotional experiences without risking commodified sexual objectification. Drawing on Kiriakos and Tienari’s (2018) notion of “love as doing,” these acts aimed to empower oneself and others in the community. Linda, a member at Artemis, attested:

We dance together, go wild, and don’t feel the need to apologize. This is our place. . . It creates a genuine camaraderie that empowers me.

Sexual expressions were more prominent during social events or in the early evening, and they included daring physical touches between women—for example, women sitting close together with their legs entwined. Several interviewees described the common custom of women sitting together in the early evening on the balcony, drinking wine or beer, and talking about sexual experiences and fantasies. Ben (one of a few male members in Artemis) testifies to this:

I was invited to join the ladies on the balcony. Each of them shared her most daring sexual experiences. It was amazing. This doesn’t happen in any male workplace. . . I felt that I had to be very careful. I know that this is a women’s workspace, and I must be cautious that nothing that I do or say is misinterpreted as offensive. . . I am a guest here.

This testimony illustrates how WOCWS were organized differently to appropriate space and reclaim it as a women-centric environment, where the female body is the standard and the male body is considered the other (Panayiotou, 2015). The intimate conversations and the sexual performance aimed to enhance solidarity and a sense of community rather than satisfying male lust. Thus, in these workspaces, men become “space invaders” (Puwar, 2004), feeling that their bodies are “out of place” and, therefore, must be cautious not to disrupt the unique dynamics among women.

Women’s sensual and erotic bodily gestures also reflected their sense of ownership of the space. For example, as shown in Figure 5, one woman went up on stage during a performance at Artemis and joined the flamenco dancer, mimicking her sensual movements in front of an audience of women. In a later interview, she shared that she would never have dared to dance like that anywhere else, interpreting the freedom to perform such sexual embodiment as empowering.

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Figure 5.

Members dancing in Artemis space.

The experience of WOCWS as safe spaces, free of the male gaze, was embraced by women as an opportunity to explore and express their sexual freedom. This was evident in Naomi’s words, a member at Artemis:

If there were men around, I might be sitting at the bar, but I would act differently. Here, I am very loose, easygoing, and very sociable, and I like it. Usually, you try not to stand out when you are in a male space. So, you probably don’t sit at the bar with a glass of whiskey and talk into the evening freely without fearing that men will suddenly make all kinds of sexual moves on you. Here, I’m a woman who allows herself to go wild.

While women’s experiences reflect a postfeminist perspective suggesting that reclaiming sexuality can empower women, adopting a more critical lens reveals these behaviors as rooted in the existing gender order. Accordingly, regardless of individuals’ experiences, the emancipatory potential of these acts is constrained (Just & Muhr, 2020). Specifically, embracing pleasure-driven sexuality inadvertently led to the reproduction of sexist behaviors, as attempts to dismantle the socially constructed association of women as sexual victims prompted some women to perpetuate the link between power and sexuality by performing an extroverted and aggressive sexuality. For instance, during our fieldwork, we witnessed several cases of sexual objectification directed toward men. In one case, a woman who worked as a marketing consultant presented to a group of other women a photo of a male client who used to work as a stripper. She humorously suggested that those who found him attractive were invited to join the next meeting with him and take a glimpse. While looking at his pictures online, women made sexual comments and laughed. While laughing, one of them said, “That’s not nice; we’re objectifying him.”

In another situation where several women were sitting on the balcony drinking alcohol, they invited one of the male members to join them, and he agreed. Soon afterward, he felt uncomfortable as one of the women began to ask him intimate questions, physically approached him, and even touched him. After a few minutes, he got up and left.

By mantling the “tough women” image (Noble, 2010)—women who identify with aggression and fantasies of revenge—they gained control and renewed power. However, objectifying others out of desire and pleasure reflects a paradoxical process since it both contests and reaffirms sexual power relations. By disassociating femininity and vulnerability and simultaneously perpetuating the link between sexuality and power, WOCWS members exhibited both traditional femininity (through bodily performances) and masculinity (aggressive behavior). In alignment with Muhr (2011) and Lewis (2014), who illustrated that women in power positions often employ both extreme feminine and masculine practices, our analysis reveals that this amalgamation manifests also within the realm of sexual conduct. Specifically, in WOCWS, the attempt to create a safe space that liberates from the male sexual gaze was also involved in the exertion of aggressiveness on their behalf.

Perpetuating the association between sexuality and power was also demonstrated by the adoption of neoliberal norms, according to which sexual attraction was associated with economic success. Our observations showed that successful women entrepreneurs were frequently perceived as attractive. Women often described their role model as a woman who was “professional,” “successful in business,” or “put a lot of effort into developing her business.” This appreciation was, in some cases, translated into sexual feelings. For instance, in one of the workshops we attended, in which members presented the challenges and successes of their entrepreneurial businesses, one of the women described how she achieved her business goals. In response, all the women applauded her, and one shouted at her, “Oh my god, you are so sexy.” Another cried, “Your success makes me horny.”

To succeed in the male-dominated entrepreneurial world, alongside their desire to construct a new, liberated femininity, women in WOCWS integrated neoliberal norms into their new sexuality. They embraced a subjectivity that embodied power, sexual freedom, and boldness while simultaneously adhering to gendered social dictates. Their self became a woman entrepreneur defined and controlled by ideas of autonomy, personal responsibility, and the constant pursuit of business success—standards deeply rooted in neoliberal and patriarchal norms.

Spacing sexuality through the dialectics between sexual fluidity and heteronormativity

The third dialectic is between encouraging sexual fluidity as a feminist subversive mechanism against heteronormativity and maintaining it to succeed in the entrepreneurial world. We elucidate this process through boundary work as a spatial mechanism (Cnossen & Stephenson, 2022) enacted by WOCWS members in the lived space; that is, regardless of their sexual orientation outside the space, women could experiment with fluid sexuality inside the workspace. Although WOCWS were not formally defined as queer places, they encouraged a form of female homosociality that served to reinforce social bonds and intimacy between women rather than identify as lesbian or queer (Priola et al., 2018). Nevertheless, these behaviors did not extend beyond the organizational boundaries. As we next demonstrate, the constant boundary work and continuant negotiations vis-a-vis sexual orientation turned WOCWS into a fragile project that endeavors to reconcile contradictions and paradoxes.

As sexually liberating places for women that allowed them to experience different sexualities, WOCWS provided an “other space” where new forms of sexual identity, contesting dominant forms, were generated and practiced (Steyaert, 2010). Being a feminist space, WOCWS challenged the standardized sexual identity in straight spaces in which members who do not align with heteronormativity will always be seen as “other” and thus “out of place” (Vitry, 2021). The management of these workplaces explicitly declared their welcoming and supportive stance towards members of the LGBTQIA+ community, as Tammy, a member at Enlightenment, noted:

I think that many members here are from the LGBTQIA+ community; I think the founder herself is gay, and a lot of the staff are as well. So, I think the space is designed primarily to make others feel safe, heard, welcome, and unembarrassed.

During our observations, we found that while WOCWS operate within the boundaries of the business world and most of their members are entrepreneurs who wish to succeed in the broader entrepreneurial world, there are still attempts to strive against the heteronormative and to create an “island of sexual freedom” within the boundaries of the space. Therefore, the process of spacing involved reconciling the tension between the desire to maintain the normative boundaries and engage in subversive actions. Similar to Steyaert’s (2010) analysis of the ways through which a space can become queered, here, too, the connection between sexual difference and space contributes to its construction as a site of resistance, where it is possible to challenge the predominant gender power structures and the prevalent sexuality perceptions at work and in organizations. Eric, a male member at Artemis, described this:

I identify with the open LGBTQIA+ spirit here because I define myself as bisexual. One of the things that has always threatened me is traditional masculinity. Talking about sports makes me want to vomit. It doesn’t interest me, and I’m not sure how to talk about it, so it’s like the masculine heterosexuals’ talk at the office, which I find threatening. But here it is different. You’re allowed to be different. It’s not the main discourse here.

Other members we interviewed also testified that being a member of WOCWS enabled them to reject heterosexual normativity and enact alternative sexuality. While in workplaces, space restraints guide employees to align along heteronormative lines, WOCWS construct a safe space for others who are “out of line.” Alexandra, a member at Enlightenment, also made this evident:

I work in a building where the majority of employees are men, and if there are any women there, they’re typically someone’s mother or daughter. . . I detest being there because they always try to fit me into a mold. They’re aware of my attraction to women because I’m open about it, but I also occasionally enjoy dressing sexy. So, they either treat me as a “woman,” examining my body and making comments, or they treat me like a “man” and make sexist, crude jokes in front of me. It’s very restrictive. I’m willing to pay, even though I already have an office, just to come here and have a place to be myself.

Moreover, the management not only encouraged space users to accept multiple sexual identities openly but also fortified women to experiment with various types of sexuality actively. Some of our informants quoted one of Artemis’s managers, Eva, whose motto is, “Every woman is heterosexual until the opportunity to sleep with another woman comes her way.”

Although most members defined themselves as heterosexuals, these quotes reflect an atmosphere of openness for sexual fluidity. Specifically, the freedom “to be yourself” and experience alternative sexual identities has been felt not only by LGTBQIA+ members but also by women who are daily engaged in heterosexual relationships, as Naomi explained:

I have been married for 30 years. I love my husband, and I’m with him, but here, I allow myself to develop another facet. I mean, there are women here who love women, so there is a certain vibe here that enables many women, including me, to be free. You know, I’m a CEO, so my image must be conventional, and here, I can connect better with my inner desires. In a workspace with men, I’d be less able to allow myself [this conduct].

As part of their boundary work, the norm regarding sexuality, as many members expressed, was that “what happens here, stays here.” This norm demarcated the boundaries wherein sexual freedom is enabled: while queering practices were encouraged within WOCWS, outside the workspace, compliance with heterosexist normativity was expected. For example, despite describing herself as heterosexual, Vicky, a member at Artemis, disclosed that she fell in love with one of the women at work and even transformed her affections into a sexual act as part of a workplace game:

I had a crush on Eva when I first came to Artemis. She turned me on, even though I’m not a lesbian, and this has never happened to me before. One evening, we sat on the balcony and played “Truth or Dare.” I was tasked with giving a kiss to someone, so I went straight to Eva and kissed her on the lips.

Other women reported ambivalence about sexual fluidity in these workspaces. For example, Alice, a member of Artemis, described mixed feelings of reluctance and attraction to engage in homosocial relationships with women:

I was initially very attractive and received sex offers, and some people attempted to persuade me to switch sides. I like some of the women here, and perhaps one day, I’ll consider them as sex partners.

As an “other” space (Steyaert, 2010), WOCWS foster the emergence of new forms of sexual identity that challenge heteronormativity. The management in WOCWS encouraged members to accept, celebrate, and experience different sexualities. This sexual openness was viewed as empowering, allowing women to break free, “be themselves,” and oppose the behavior expected of them daily. As many interviewees noted, it also conveyed a message that a good and valued member is open to accepting different sexualities and does not shy away from sexual experiences.

The role of spacing in constructing workspaces for women

Drawing on the literature on spacing processes (Beyes, 2018; Beyes & Steyaert, 2012; Stephenson et al., 2020), our findings underscore how women-oriented workspaces are constructed through spatial assemblages and boundary work performances that intertwine various social and material aspects. While prior studies have acknowledged the influence of aesthetics on identity construction and power dynamics, particularly concerning gender (Hancock, 2005; Hancock & Spicer, 2011; Tyler & Cohen, 2010; Wasserman & Frenkel, 2011, 2015), our article expands this understanding by highlighting the dialectical nature of spacing, which encompasses multiplicity, complexity, and constant negotiations around the meaning of a “feminine” space. Specifically, whereas the literature on organizational spacing has already examined the dialectical processes inherent in workspaces, it has mostly focused on tensions between the planners’ intentions and the space users’ interpretations and experiences, primarily through Lefebvre’s triad spatial theory (Sivunen & Putnam, 2020; Wasserman & Frenkel, 2011). In contrast, the current study suggests that spacing processes may be particularly complex when designing women-oriented spaces since the definitions of what femininity is, what an appropriate woman entrepreneurship is, and what the right conduct of such women is in a male-dominated entrepreneurial world are highly controversial. Thus, by epitomizing the ways in which the design of aesthetic assemblages was dialectical, tension-filled, and constantly negotiated, this study’s contribution lies in highlighting the parallelity between processes of spacing and constructing an appropriate femininity/entrepreneur in a highly controversial environment. Furthermore, whereas existing studies on spacing have already acknowledged its dialectical nature, our study offers additional insights into the complex ways in which sexuality and gender are spaced and negotiated. By identifying three dialectical spatial axes particularly relevant to the context of women-oriented spaces, this study contributes to the spacing literature, offering new perspectives on how these spaces foster inclusivity for diverse groups while simultaneously challenging the existing social order.

The first axis pertains to the aesthetic assemblage of emotional-nurturing and sexual femininities that home-like and nightlife designs represent (Alexandersson & Kalonaityte, 2018). By juxtaposing and integrating the two designs, space users simultaneously acknowledged the contradictions between the two feminine images and challenged this contradiction. The second, the tension between vulnerable and pleasure-seeking feminine sexualities, was manifested through embodiment and corporeal gestures, highlighting the multiple, often contradictory, interpretations of safe spaces for women. The third axis refers to the tension between sexual fluidity and heteronormativity manifested through boundary work; that is, inside the organization, women could subvert heteronormativity by experiencing sexual fluidity while maintaining heteronormativity outside. These three dialectical interplays, emblematic of what can be termed an “architecture of complexity” (Kornberger & Clegg, 2003), reconstitute women-oriented workspaces in different and more complex ways than other workspaces.

The aesthetic choices and the social activities that took place in the workspace and space users’ bodily movements, sensations, and experiences created an indulgent environment and fostered a sense of safety and confidence among women. Consequently, space users felt empowered as they re-appropriated and claimed the workspace as their own. While existing literature on the role of aesthetics in constructing women’s experiences has documented how they feel excluded and “out of place” (Tyler & Cohen, 2010), our study highlights the pivotal role of spacing workspaces tailored to women’s needs. The research findings suggest that there is no one way to construct and design a feminine space; rather, it is a complex process that entails reconciling tensions, dilemmas, and conflicting interpretations and intentions. In other words, rather than subscribing to a monolithic conception of “feminine spaces,” our study advocates for a more nuanced understanding that embraces the multifaceted nature of this process, suggesting that crafting such workspaces emerges as a dynamic and iterative endeavor requiring continual engagement with the complexities inherent in the spacing process. Drawing on Panayiotou’s (2015) notion of “spacing gender,” the current study emphasizes the centrality of spacing sexuality as a crucial aspect of this process that was overlooked hitherto.

Sexuality and the deconstruction of conventional femininity at work

Whereas existing organizational literature on sexuality demonstrates how re-sexualization processes are primarily employed by management to increase employee productivity and commitment (Burrell, 1984, 1992; Fleming, 2007), the present study indicates that re-sexualization processes and the use of sexuality may also serve as a mechanism to reshape gender identities.

Aligned with Just and Muhr (2020), who offer a more complex perspective on women’s sexuality and empowerment in the workplace, our study demonstrates that the attempt to challenge the association between feminine sexuality and victimhood and between sex and danger is ambiguous and contradictory even in feminist workspaces. Our findings highlight the pivotal role of sexuality in empowering women and increasing their sense of belonging, thus viewing the display of love and eroticism as a subversive action against the heteronormative masculine gender regime (Kiriakos & Tienari, 2018; Mandalaki & Pérezts, 2022). Simultaneously, however, the embodiment and materialization of sexuality in WOCWS are deeply embedded in gendered social conventions.

This complexity was reflected in aesthetics that included stereotypical images of women (young, beautiful, and thin) along with subversive artifacts that incorporated messages challenging traditional femininity. The findings showed how sexual bodily expressions (such as physical touches, intimate conversations, and erotic dances) and encouragement to experiment with homosexual relationships among women served to reinforce a sense of safety, encourage interpersonal relationships, and build a supportive community but inherently contained stereotypical images of femininity. Since the goal was not to design a queer space but a workspace where all women (heterosexual and non-heterosexual) could feel comfortable, the process of re-sexualization was dialectical and fraught with internal tensions. Accordingly, WOCWS evoked various interpretations among space users: some saw it as a safe place for sexual experiences away from the male gaze, others interpreted sexuality as an indicator of affection, love, and close relationships, and others saw it as an opportunity to reverse sexual power relations and to objectify men.

Another noteworthy contribution pertaining to the subversive potential of sexuality is sexual fluidity as a means of challenging the gender-based power dynamics prevalent in many work organizations. The term “sexual fluidity” describes women’s adaptability in WOCWS concerning their sexual preferences, where attraction to men or women becomes situational and variable rather than fixed. By accepting the idea that normative heterosexuality is a mechanism shaped by male dominance to reinforce traditional organizational hierarchies and gendered power relations (Pringle, 1989), founders chose to encourage alternative conceptions of sexuality that embrace diverse sexual relationships and disrupt the accepted dichotomy between heterosexuality and homosexuality, thereby challenging these traditional structures. While previous studies have discussed the inclusion of homosocial relations as a feminist act against powerful capitalism (Ashcraft, 2000; Fleming, 2007), our study goes beyond that by illustrating how, in a feminine setting (not necessarily queer), resistance involves actively promoting one’s experimentation with different sexualities rather than merely accepting others.

Social games that frequently involved sexual interactions between women and statements the managers and other space users made about how any heterosexual woman could experience homosexual relationships exemplify how adventurous sexual experiences, distinct from the everyday, help to establish women-oriented spaces as safe environments for challenging existing preconceived notions and nurturing novel ideas. Space users described how the space granted them the freedom to behave differently from their traditional roles. However, by adopting a more critical perspective, we call scholars to question whether and how the emancipatory potential of “sexual fluidity”—as both an agentic mechanism and a form of resistance against heteronormative organizations—extends beyond “other spaces” (Steyaert, 2010), such as WOCWS.

Reconstructing an alternative gender regime in women-oriented spaces

Finally, our findings highlight the potential of spacing sexuality in the workplace to challenge the gender regime that is common in most business environments (Acker, 2006, 2012). Studies on gendered and gendering organizations have repeatedly pointed to the role of organizational spaces, culture, and gender ideology in reproducing gender hierarchies, making women feel uncomfortable, and stressing the distance between the imagined ideal worker in desired and profitable positions and the stereotypical woman (e.g., Acker, 2012; Amis, Mair, & Munir, 2020; Calás, Smircich, & Holvino, 2014; Muhr, 2011). Attempts to introduce organizational practices aimed at negating this gender regime have often reproduced gender differences instead of challenging gender dividing lines. Our case studies allowed us to examine how the common regime may be challenged through the construction of “feminine” spaces.

Nevertheless, “feminine spaces” are not exempt from the broader gender inequality regime (Acker, 2006). Although WOCWS aim to cater to women, they remain embedded in the masculine entrepreneurial environment. Thus, intending to confront the distance between the ideal entrepreneur, as most business environments imagine it in stereotypical masculine terms (competitive, tough, powerful, and goal-oriented), and the stereotypical woman (nurturing, soft, and relationship-oriented), WOCWS’ founders used the sexual environment to encourage women to pursue success, a common practice in the male-dominated entrepreneurial world. The dialectical sexualized space transcended binary conceptualizations of femininity and masculinity, conveying a message that women can comfortably move between toughness and softness, between being predators and supporting others, and between performing stereotypical masculine entrepreneurship and that of the stereotypical soft and nurturing woman (or anywhere between these two ends of the spectrum). In contrast to the cyborg woman metaphor (Muhr, 2011), which represents a hybrid individual combining femininity and masculinity, the current study demonstrates the constant negotiation and movement between opposing poles that space enables at different times.

Our findings suggest that, in the absence of an existing successful role model, both WOCWS have independently chosen sexuality to challenge the conventional gender regime, resulting in similar ambiguous outcomes regarding the construction of an alternative regime. Maneuvering between managerial social (gender equality and equity) and business (profit for them and members) somewhat contradicting goals, the project has had spatial boundaries. Within the WOCWS’ boundaries, women have reconsidered the meaning of femininity and womanhood and felt “at home,” whereas outside the boundaries, they were encouraged to act more cautiously to succeed in the competitive entrepreneurial work environment.

Moreover, the alternative femininity constructed in WOCWS reflected a dialectical negotiation between embracing and resisting existing gender norms. For example, the admired entrepreneur was a woman who was successful in business and thus perceived as sexy. Associating success with sexual attraction perpetuated the masculine norm of entrepreneurship but simultaneously reestablished a link between alternative femininity and success. Notably, whereas WOCWS set out to construct an alternative space in terms of its gender and sexual convention and aesthetics, they still adhere to neoliberal norms, striving to be profitable endeavors that help their members achieve success as it is commonly measured in the business world. Consequently, women moved away from binary and stereotypical conceptualizations of gender, allowing them to challenge the perceived negation between femininity and business success. By adopting multiple femininities, they felt comfortable performing traditional femininity (in the form of conventional sexy female attire, grooming, and celebrating their sexuality) as long as they could also perform nontraditional feminine roles. Relatedly, the sexually aggressive behaviors some exhibit—which women typically encounter in male-dominated workplaces—may simultaneously challenge and reaffirm gender norms.