Love this! I think your writing is thoughtful and funny. I'm an art professor and painter/new media artist. I was also the state historian for the Ohio Junior Classical League a long time ago. I often tell my students it's okay to stop or pause doing something for a while, and then pick it up when you have time and energy. It's not the same as quitting, and it's clear from your work that you'll never really quit being a classicist. I think humans, once we develop a particular skill set that's at a high level, it's kind of always there, like a form of magic. Also, sidenote I cannot believe the offensive things professors say to their students, especially graduate students! Happy to find you on here and looking forward to reading more.
Thank you so much! And yes, I agree - once you've done something for a long time, it sort of becomes just a part of you. It does feel a little magical!
Associate Professor of Classics here. From the moment I successfully defended my PhD thesis to each instance where a postdoc came to an end, I've encountered countless supervisors—both male and, at times, female—who questioned my commitment to furthering my career. Their refrain: "Do you truly need to pursue this career relentlessly? Can't you pause, maybe start a family? You're married; your husband is an engineer with a stable income. Is it really necessary? Are you seriously considering that fellowship abroad? Are you seriously considering that position in the middle of nowhere? And your husband? What about your home? Who will take care of him and the household? You're being selfish. It's time to focus on your personal life. Have a baby, and you'll find unparalleled happiness. Once you're a mother, your academic aspirations will fade, and you'll be completely content." This kind of critiques could go on for hours. Alternatively, some have suggested that I could write books and articles while the baby is sleeping or engaged in playdates.
The day I secured my tenure, a man uttered these precise words: "Congratulations, but now it's time to end the fuss about your career. You have a permanent job, so you have no excuse, except your own selfishness, to postpone motherhood. Being called 'professor' pales in comparison to being called 'mom.'"
At times, we may feel as though we are the ones relinquishing parts of ourselves after embracing motherhood. However, we are deeply immersed in a society that perceives women's ambitions, careers, or personal fulfillment as "temporary," lasting only a few years between graduation and marriage. This sentiment is particularly prevalent in creative fields or highly competitive careers like academia.
Observing our mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and others take a step back after becoming mothers has left a lasting impression on many of us. I ponder whether stripping away the most ambitious and creative aspects after motherhood is a genuine choice or something instilled in many women by centuries of patriarchal influence. The additional harm lies in the guilt women feel for seemingly easily betraying or abandoning that part of themselves that once represented their childhood dreams. Perhaps acknowledging that it wasn't a sincere choice but rather something induced by the culture we grew up in is the first step towards liberation.
Thank you for this, and I'm sorry people said that to you. And I think you're exactly right. One of the insidious parts of this kind of pressure is how it FEELS like a personal choice that I'm solely responsible for, but is actually the result of all kinds of cultural and social pressures and conditioning.
Yes! We've just come out of the Christmas movie season, where strong and successful women from big cities return to their hometowns, only to unexpectedly fall in love with their high school sweetheart (whom they left to go to college), now a widowed man working as a tree cutter with two kids. The happy ending is always the same: the accomplished women decide, entirely on their own, to leave their high-flying careers to become stay-at-home stepmoms, baking cakes for the new family.
What's insidious about these narratives is that nobody explicitly tells the women to make such choices; rather, they seem to independently conclude that their previous lives and careers, which they worked hard for, are somehow insignificant compared to the fulfillment found in caring for a family. Another underlying message is that even if at 18 years old you decide to leave your home and sweetheart to pursue your dreams, this is only temporary: you will end up taking care of him (or a man like him) anyway. In addition, you will have to fight hard to convince this man that you are not a bad woman from the city. This narrative has been prevalent in seemingly harmless movies for decades, influencing us from childhood through adolescence and into adulthood.
The underlying message seems to discourage women from ambitious pursuits, insinuating that a successful career equates to loneliness and unhappiness, while family life equals happiness. And you, stubborn girl, have wasted 10 years in NY to discover it. But what interests me more is that there is never a villain character explicitly telling a girl, 'Your role is to quit your permanent position on Wall Street and your pencil skirt and take care of the man you left 20 years ago to go to college.' On the contrary, it is always the woman herself depicted in the painful process of finally realizing that her life and ambitions are a fraud, and that she is 'unhappy' because she is rich, successful but dramatically alone. We, as women, grow up in a culture that says to us: career is loneliness (so: unhappiness), while family is happiness. As if it were that simple.
Another great part about this that I didn't even start to get into here is that it has been completely impossible for me to make my work legible to any of my kids! So that's fun.
Side note I have been starting to spin up a second issue of my magazine... if you or anyone reading this is interested, I just updated this list that represents the type of stories we’re looking for: bit.ly/NewMoSeekingArticles
Love this! I think your writing is thoughtful and funny. I'm an art professor and painter/new media artist. I was also the state historian for the Ohio Junior Classical League a long time ago. I often tell my students it's okay to stop or pause doing something for a while, and then pick it up when you have time and energy. It's not the same as quitting, and it's clear from your work that you'll never really quit being a classicist. I think humans, once we develop a particular skill set that's at a high level, it's kind of always there, like a form of magic. Also, sidenote I cannot believe the offensive things professors say to their students, especially graduate students! Happy to find you on here and looking forward to reading more.
Thank you so much! And yes, I agree - once you've done something for a long time, it sort of becomes just a part of you. It does feel a little magical!
Associate Professor of Classics here. From the moment I successfully defended my PhD thesis to each instance where a postdoc came to an end, I've encountered countless supervisors—both male and, at times, female—who questioned my commitment to furthering my career. Their refrain: "Do you truly need to pursue this career relentlessly? Can't you pause, maybe start a family? You're married; your husband is an engineer with a stable income. Is it really necessary? Are you seriously considering that fellowship abroad? Are you seriously considering that position in the middle of nowhere? And your husband? What about your home? Who will take care of him and the household? You're being selfish. It's time to focus on your personal life. Have a baby, and you'll find unparalleled happiness. Once you're a mother, your academic aspirations will fade, and you'll be completely content." This kind of critiques could go on for hours. Alternatively, some have suggested that I could write books and articles while the baby is sleeping or engaged in playdates.
The day I secured my tenure, a man uttered these precise words: "Congratulations, but now it's time to end the fuss about your career. You have a permanent job, so you have no excuse, except your own selfishness, to postpone motherhood. Being called 'professor' pales in comparison to being called 'mom.'"
At times, we may feel as though we are the ones relinquishing parts of ourselves after embracing motherhood. However, we are deeply immersed in a society that perceives women's ambitions, careers, or personal fulfillment as "temporary," lasting only a few years between graduation and marriage. This sentiment is particularly prevalent in creative fields or highly competitive careers like academia.
Observing our mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and others take a step back after becoming mothers has left a lasting impression on many of us. I ponder whether stripping away the most ambitious and creative aspects after motherhood is a genuine choice or something instilled in many women by centuries of patriarchal influence. The additional harm lies in the guilt women feel for seemingly easily betraying or abandoning that part of themselves that once represented their childhood dreams. Perhaps acknowledging that it wasn't a sincere choice but rather something induced by the culture we grew up in is the first step towards liberation.
Thank you for this, and I'm sorry people said that to you. And I think you're exactly right. One of the insidious parts of this kind of pressure is how it FEELS like a personal choice that I'm solely responsible for, but is actually the result of all kinds of cultural and social pressures and conditioning.
Yes! We've just come out of the Christmas movie season, where strong and successful women from big cities return to their hometowns, only to unexpectedly fall in love with their high school sweetheart (whom they left to go to college), now a widowed man working as a tree cutter with two kids. The happy ending is always the same: the accomplished women decide, entirely on their own, to leave their high-flying careers to become stay-at-home stepmoms, baking cakes for the new family.
What's insidious about these narratives is that nobody explicitly tells the women to make such choices; rather, they seem to independently conclude that their previous lives and careers, which they worked hard for, are somehow insignificant compared to the fulfillment found in caring for a family. Another underlying message is that even if at 18 years old you decide to leave your home and sweetheart to pursue your dreams, this is only temporary: you will end up taking care of him (or a man like him) anyway. In addition, you will have to fight hard to convince this man that you are not a bad woman from the city. This narrative has been prevalent in seemingly harmless movies for decades, influencing us from childhood through adolescence and into adulthood.
The underlying message seems to discourage women from ambitious pursuits, insinuating that a successful career equates to loneliness and unhappiness, while family life equals happiness. And you, stubborn girl, have wasted 10 years in NY to discover it. But what interests me more is that there is never a villain character explicitly telling a girl, 'Your role is to quit your permanent position on Wall Street and your pencil skirt and take care of the man you left 20 years ago to go to college.' On the contrary, it is always the woman herself depicted in the painful process of finally realizing that her life and ambitions are a fraud, and that she is 'unhappy' because she is rich, successful but dramatically alone. We, as women, grow up in a culture that says to us: career is loneliness (so: unhappiness), while family is happiness. As if it were that simple.
I’m here for anything about balancing motherhood and being a writer. Same energy
Another great part about this that I didn't even start to get into here is that it has been completely impossible for me to make my work legible to any of my kids! So that's fun.
Side note I have been starting to spin up a second issue of my magazine... if you or anyone reading this is interested, I just updated this list that represents the type of stories we’re looking for: bit.ly/NewMoSeekingArticles