academichic

Sources:

Red-orange cardi – Zara in Germany years ago
Scarf – gift
Dress – thrifted
Belt – thrifted
Wooden bangle – thrifted
Tights – TJMaxx
Boots – Dillards
Pendant – Anthropologie (on thrifted chain)

Endnotes:

Since last week’s discussion on belting and corseting also delved into matters of pregnancy and academia, I thought it might be time to revisit this topic and give you an update on my experiences thus far. Now that I am decidedly more visibly pregnant, my ‘situation’ has come to play a more significant role in my interactions with students and other academics.

Unfortunately, I have encountered some less than encouraging comments from the administrative component of my home institution (where I am still a student finishing my degree), while I have not encountered anything of the sort at my visiting institution, where I am a lecturer. The two places are pretty different in terms of campus culture and institutional profile so I should not be surprised to have met with different reactions between the two schools. This has just confirmed to me (by way of a very subjective study with a very tiny sample pool) that there is no ONE reaction to expect when mixing family and children with career and academia. It all depends so much on your department, campus culture, institutional policies, and personal situation. This makes me wary of making any statements such as ‘having kids in academia is easy’ or ‘academics are totally unsupportive of their colleague’s family lives’. Neither statement is true nor false – it’s all relative and contingent upon a number of factors. So I guess a more constructive question to raise is what to do when your home institution isn’t the most supportive place it could be? Or, perhaps you have a supportive department, but not much in terms of a support system of nearby family members or friends – how do you manage to balance your childcare duties with your career obligations then?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on how to make parenting and a career work more smoothly. Anyone have any good tips?

A reader also asked whether our department’s reaction(s) to pregnancy influences our style and how much we’re willing to showcase our pregnant bellies. I’ll let E. speak for herself, but for me, getting dressed since being pregnant has been much of an exercise in continuing my pre-pregnancy style, which is what makes me feel most comfortable and happy when getting dressed. This means that I do showcase my belly as I was never one to hide in large or loose clothing to begin with. And wearing dresses from my pre-pregnancy days, as the one seen here, also means that the belly is pretty noticeable as the dress does not have built-in extra fabric. Again, it’s difficult to say how I would be thinking this through were I physically at the insitution that has made me feel a bit more self-conscious about my pregnancy, but being at a very supportive place, it’s been second-nature to dress as I want and to enjoy showing how my belly is changing week to week. I wrote this before about wearing a wedding band at interviews and how I don’t want to hide my committment to family and my personal life. So I guess my answer is that I don’t think I would stay or apply for a job at an insitution that made me feel like I had to hide my pregnant body for the fear of being taken less seriously (a majorly gendered issue since men don’t ever have to consider this when combining fatherhood with career) or hide the fact that family and children are going to be a part of my life. And so while I’m not changing my style now (within a supportive environment), I’d hope to be able to make that same claim in any environment seeing as how this is as much of an issue of gender equality and fair treatment (not having to hide one’s pregnancy) as it is a style choice.

And before I end this, it also bears mentioning that reactions can vary even between departments at one and the same institution. Which certainly seems to be the case between my department and the one that E. and A. are currently in (both at the same institution). This to just further enforce the idea that blanket statements can’t be made.

I’d also love to address the topic of students and their reactions to the pregnant body in the classroom since they are the ones faced with my growing belly on a daily basis. But I’ll leave that discussion for another day. For now, please add your voice to this and chime in with any thoughts on what worked for you in navigating parenting and academia! Thank you! ~ S.

Sources:

Striped top – Banana Republic, hand me down
Dress – thrifted and chopped by me
Belt – thrifted
Tights – TJMaxx
Pendant – Anthropologie (the original chain broke and I thrifted a ‘new’ chain for it)
Loafers – Michael Kors, thrifted
Bike – 1970s Peugeot Mixte

Endnotes:

In thinking about how belting has been discussed on our site and on other blogs, I can’t help but draw parallels between the debate on ‘belting’ and the discourse around ‘corseting’ today and in the past. Perhaps you haven’t given this particular comparison much thought but since I am devoting a chapter of my dissertation to the practice of corseting, I don’t even know how to contain the thoughts I have on this to one little post. So I will try…

Ready to up the nerd factor?

» Read the rest of this entry «

A few of you have expressed interest in an exploration of what Banana Republic’s name references. Ask, and you shall receive a nerdy exposition with a bibliography. If you didn’t ask, just skip down to the bottom.

Although the phrase “banana republic” may, for many of us, call to mind the retail brand, the term actually has a very different historical usage. Merriam-Webster defines a “banana republic” as “a small dependent country usually of the tropics; especially one run despotically,” with the term dating back to 1904. The name references dictatorships that supported the exploitation of large-scale plantation agriculture (historically bananas) for economic gain.

So how in the world did a clothing retailer end up with that as a name? The Banana Republic clothing line was founded in 1978 by Mel and Patricia Ziegler as a safari and travel-themed company. (Interestingly, they were also co-founders of The Republic of Tea. They seem to have a thing for naming companies in relationship to fictional colonial encounters.) Mel Ziegler says that they named the company as “part of a whimsy of creating an imaginary republic where I was Minister of Propaganda and Finance and Patricia was Minister of Culture.” The Gap bought Banana Republic in 1983 and subsequently began shifting the brand away from its original travel theme (the Travel and Safari catalogues were discontinued in 1988) and towards being a mainstream luxury brand, though certain tropes of travel and discovery continue to appear — whenever relevant to broader fashion trends — in the company’s clothing and marketing. (For example, despite all of the giraffe print and safari dresses and cargo pants that have been in stores the past few seasons, I distinctly remember a 2004ish marketing campaign with balloons, croquet, and pink and white pleated skirts.)

What I find most interesting is not a debate over what the name does or does not mean for Banana Republic as the brand currently defines itself, but instead what its rise — and recurring motif of travel — says about some broader cultural moves in the United States. In a much bigger essay on the relationship between American Studies and Postcolonial studies, Brian Edwards momentarily digresses, suggesting that there was an “efflorescence of colonial nostalgia within U.S. popular culture during the 1990s” (73). He cites a range of examples: the films The English Patient and The Sheltering Sky, the J. Peterman clothing catalogue (that like the old BR catalogue would sprinkle colonialist anecdotes throughout), the “faux colonialist” feel of furniture stores like The Bombay Company, the growing popularity of Banana Republic and Anthropologie, and the 1990 Ralph Lauren “Safari” perfume campaign, which featured well-appointed models lounging in exotic locations in Africa and the Middle East. Drawing from a framework of national narratives offered by Donald Pease, Edwards argues that the success of such businesses and marketing campaigns can be understood as a “nostalgia for a colonial encounter the U.S. never had” and, in the wake of the Cold War and the accompanying economic and political shifts, “a process that helped establish the U.S. state and its major corporate apparati as global managers, accomplished by producing…sensual fictions of the older (colonial) order” (73). I would love to hear what some American Culture Studies folks think about that.

On a more pedestrian level — and having not brushed up on my travel theory — I think that the notion of exotic travel and exploration has an appeal that’s also intertwined with certain class and gender norms. Admittedly, in a marketing sense, places like Anthropologie and Banana Republic are smart to capitalize (hee! Marxist joke!) on this desire.

So, much like the travel narrative used to sell it, this silk skirt with its front patch pockets, even in its deceptively sturdy olive green color, is a total fantasy. This skirt will not withstand either a safari on the African plains or a day with my toddler. For a day of playing dress-up and gathering inspiration for spring dressing, however, it was perfect. It took a while to get the right mix, but I loved the end result that mixed a variety of textures — silk, cashmere, and leather — in a subdued color palette. Oh, Banana Republic, if I won $50 to spend, I would be tempted to buy this confection of a skirt, but let’s be frank. I would end up with one of your staples, like your glorious classic trench or pleated sheath dress.

Want more to read on colonial nostalgia and clothing retail? You could also check out:

D’Urso, Gabriella. “Urban Outfitters to Anthropologie: From Hipster Grunge to Hippie Chic.” Journal of Culture and Retail Image 2 (2009): 1-8, accessed February 22, 2011. http://www.library.drexel.edu/publications/dsmr/D’urso%20final.pdf

Edwards, Brian T. “Preposterous Encounters: Interrupting American Studies with the (Post)Colonial, or Casablanca in the American Century.” Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa, and the Middle East 23 no. 1 (2003): 70-86.

Kaplan, Caren. “‘A World without Boundaries:’ The Body Shop’s Trans/National Geographics.” Social Text 43 (Autumn 1995): 45-66.

Smith, Paul. “Visiting the Banana Republic.” Social Text 21 (1989): 128-148.

Smith considers Banana Republic’s pre-Gap travel-themed catalogues: hand-illustrated, eclectic items accompanied by fictional backstories that seem to be from colonial narratives but in fact have no historical or cultural specificity. Smith argues that this catalogue as a kind of evacuation of history from purposeful representation, and he uses the catalogue’s text and image relationship to launch a critique of late capitalist “inflated truths.”

{screen shot from accreditedonlinecolleges.com}

We are so honored and excited to have been named one of the 50 Best Fashion Blogs for College Students by Accredited Online Colleges. We love collaborating on academichic and look forward to many more posts on fashion, academia, and everything in between. If you want to read the article, hop on over to accrediteonlinecolleges.com and check out their Top 50 list.

And if  you’re on the look-out for more blogs catering to college students and young professionals, take a look at all the many wonderful sites listed there!  ~ Chics

10 February 2011 – Jewelry as Sign, originally uploaded by academichic.

Sources:

• Purple Cardigan – Gap Outlet
• Black Wrap Dress – Banana Republic
• Stripped Tank – J Crew
• Black Tights – Target
• Pattern Tights – gift from S.
• Boots – Steve Madden Intyce
• Bracelet – Hawaii
• Pin – purchased from activist speaker
• Earrings – wedding gift from A2

Endnotes:

As S. and many readers mentioned, jewelery often functions as a sign — a sign of gender, ethnicity, class, but also sexuality, marital status, age, and many other things (clothing of course also often functions in this way, as we have many times discussed here). I thought about that as I put this outfit together for an awards ceremony at which I was presented with an honor for LGBT leadership and service.  I immediately thought of the casual outfit I wore on national coming out day and wanted to recreate it in a dressier and more winter-appropriate version.  The main elements remained the same – my purple cardigan, multi-colored bead bracelet (not exactly a rainbow), and my “queer kids rule” pin.

Pride Pin and Beads, originally uploaded by academichic.

Choosing these accessories was a no-brainier knowing that I would be surrounded by other queers and allys there to recognize me for my commitment to the LGBT community. It was meaningful and fun to show some overt queer pride through my jewelry (and color choice of “lavender”).  But it got me thinking about the other jewelry I was sporting – my small silver earnings (since I didn’t want too many statement pieces at once) and, even more so, my wedding ring.

When A2 and I got married last summer we exchanged very simple white-gold bands.  We talked a lot about how we wanted to handle the whole ring issue and both agreed we had no need for engagement rings since the decision to get married was one we made together over many years.  We choose to exchange wedding bands because we like the sentiment behind, we wanted a symbol of our commitment, and because we were looking to up-grade the cheap matching silver bands we had been wearing for years. But, something about it still made me a bit uncomfortable – its sign value.  I am not a married straight woman and in fact in most of the country, including the state in which I reside, I do not enjoy marital status.   I was uncomfortable wearing something that signaled otherwise.  I didn’t want to pass.  So, I wear my wedding band on my right hand instead of my left.  I don’t know what assumptions most people make based on this right-hand ring, but over the last 7 months a few people have asked me about it.  For the most part, these questions have led to some incredible conversations about marriage and about symbols.

So, today I suppose I am aware of the power of jewelry as sign but am celebrating the power of jewelry as conversation stater!  Has any of your jewelry ever led to a great discussion?  Do you consciously wear jewelry as sign?

Boots and layred tights, originally uploaded by academichic.

10 February 2011 – Jewelry as Sign, originally uploaded by academichic.

Sources:

Plaid dress – thrifted
White button down – J.Crew
Tights – TJMaxx
Boots – Banana Republic
Belt – Gap Outlet
Pearl earrings – graduation gift from parents
Bangles and necklace – thrift and consignment shops

Endnotes:

At the risk of sounding like a one trick pony, here I am again making use of a bright and bold necklace to brighten up an outfit. I found this bright orange necklace at my local consignment store when I went in to sell some old clothes and quickly traded in my store credit for it. And for the patterned orange bangle pictured below. As much as I love jewelry that has sentimental value, that comes from a special friend or family member, or that was purchased for a meaningful event, I also love the quick fix of a good thrift store buy. Want a bright bauble necklace or a brooch to add something new to your wardrobe? Want something kitschy or vintage looking? I love my local Goodwill or my consignment store for that quick and inexpensive fix when I’m itching for something new.

Like A, and like many of you have noted, I prefer keeping my big ticket item to a minimum. If I wear long, dangly earrings, I tend to forgo a necklace. Similarly, you can see that with all of my statement necklace outfits that I’ve been posting lately, I keep my earrings to small and simple studs. I also tend to wear either a bracelet or rings but not both on one hand. I love the “more is more” look on others but have a hard time pulling it off myself. So I stick to the “pick one” as my standard practice.

And if I may get side-tracked slightly here, I loved how a couple of readers noted that they felt ‘naked’ without earrings and always wore some no matter what. I had to laugh reading that because I feel the same way. I wear studs everyday and I sleep wearing them as well. I only remove a pair to switch it out for another. I recently thought about why that is and I realized that I’ve never seen myself without earrings.

My parents got my ears pierced when I was still a baby (probably less than two years old) as is customary for Romanian girls. It’s a cultural norm in Romania for little girls to get their ears pierced and wear little gold earrings from infancy on. I am guessing that it has to do with another Romanian custom, which is to keep both boys’ and girls’ hair very short and androgynous for the majority of their childhood. As children are gendered through clothing and symbols, before maturity hits and their bodies begin to signal gender more, it comes as no surprise that one symbol – earrings – had to be enforced to compensate for the lack of another gendering signal – hair. It seems to me that in the American culture, hair is used much more as a signal for gender with children than jewelry.

Anyway, having grown up with “boy short” hair until around middle school but having always had earrings for as far back as I can remember, I feel perfectly fine wearing my hair pulled back or short (which is how it’s often been until early grad school)  while I feel strangely naked and “lacking” without any earrings in.

I’d be curious to hear if you’ve observed this phenomenon within your culture or others. I think the question of jewelry as a gendering object is a fascinating one in itself but even more so when it comes to children, who are much more gender ambiguous in appearance than adults. S.

Sources:

• Fur Jacket: vintage (grandmother’s)
• Gloves: Coach (gift)
• Jeans: c/o Lucky Brand
• Boots: vintage Charles David

Endnotes:
I’m conflicted about wearing fur, and I wanted to bring this into our discussion during outerwear week because I’d love to hear other’s opinions about this and share knowledge about the topic. First, this is a vintage jacket from my grandmother (her initials are stitched into the lining), and it was a prized possession when my grandfather gave it to her. Second, I would not want to purchase a new fur coat and even things with faux fur for some reason don’t appeal to me aesthetically. However, I love this little jacket, but I’m always apprehensive about wearing it because fur is such a contentious topic and leads to bigger questions of animal cruelty, abuse and feminism. Anne-Marie of the now (sadly) defunct Scholar Style Guide brought this up in November when she was sporting a faux fur piece and was puzzled by her need to tell everyone she talked to that it was indeed fake. She goes on to question whether faux is better or just feeds into the desire for the real thing?

This question can also be applied to animal prints, but the argument against fur and prints can go beyond the debate about animal cruelty involved in the real thing. As “Someone” observes in the comments section, the objection to animal prints also has a feminist bent to it. This reader notes that the connotation of animal prints (and real animal skins), which are usually rare animals such as leopard, cheetah, and zebra, is that they are connected to the idea of exoticism and equate women with wild, untamed nature (not to mention reference the subjugation of “exotic” animals and peoples exacted in the 19th century European “scramble for Africa” as they expanded their colonial empires). In the text of Animals and Women: Feminist Theoretical Explorations editors Josephine Donovan and Carol J. Adams break down a few feminist takes on this topic in the introduction (Please excuse these very cursory notes on this very complicated topic):

• Simone de Beauvoir argued that women needed to shed their “animal” sides
• Liberal feminists claim that women are rational and separate from animals because of their mind and intellect — like men, not like animals.
• More recent feminists such as Marilyn French contend that the woman-animal connection should not be dismissed.

I’m still not sure where I fall in the feminist debate, but I do know that I wouldn’t be comfortable buying a new fur. Although, I don’t have a problem wearing a vintage one… but then why don’t I wear it more? Hmmm…

These are just a few voices in this debate, and I in no way claim to have done exhaustive research. I look forward to hearing your perspective on and knowledge about this topic.

What’s your take on fur? Do you feel differently about wearing leather?

~L.

I also wanted to include this link to PETA’s list of vegan friendly clothing companies. (WARNING: the PETA website has some graphic images on other pages, and PETA has its own issues with using women to further their cause.) Finally, for still another angle check out Carol J. Adams book The Sexual Politics of Meat.

We Prefer To Call It Appropriation, originally uploaded by academichic.

Sources:

• Cardigan: Old Navy
• Dress: BCBG Outlet
• Belt: thrifted
• Tights: Target
• Booties: Steve Madden Ollie Booties, via DSW
• Necklace necklace: Tickette, birthday gift from husband

End Notes:

If you’re thinking to yourself, “Self, this outfit looks verrrrry familiar,” then your eyes are not deceiving you. Even though none of the individual items are identica, I lifted it pretty unabashedly from recent outfit of Jess from What I Wore.

Now, let me tell you a little story about copying and contemporary art. In 1979, the artist Sherrie Levine got a copy of an exhibition catalogue by well-known documentary photographer Walker Evans. Evans’ photographs, which was accompanied by James Agee’s text in the book Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, profoundly shaped notions of the rural poor in the 1930s and continue to resonate today as iconic images of American hardiness. Levine took photographs of Evans’s photographs, and then displayed the resulting images — without further manipulation — as her own, titling the series “After Walker Evans.” Levine’s work is now considered a quintessential example of postmodernist photography because of her use of appropriation as a means of dismantling modernist notions of originality and authorship.

Basically, I just wanted to let you know that the contemporary art historian in me would prefer to call this outfit not a “copy” of Jess’s, but instead “After Jessica Quirk.”

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(Though I need to work on that quintessential hip pop pose she has.)

I usually relegate this dress to my spring and summer wardrobe, but I love how it takes on a whole different character with the rich purple cardigan and black tights. I’m actually wearing two pairs here, my lace tights over a pair of black opaque ones. It’s a subtle textural component that doesn’t translate well to photographs (especially ones hastily snapped in the cold!), but I liked the little bit of extra interest.

To bring the black of the tights and booties further up in the outfit without going all matchy matchy on the belt, I wore my black and gold Necklace necklace from Tickette, which I’m pretty sure makes any outfit a little bit cooler. I love this as a fresh winter look to help get me out of the January wardrobe doldrums.

I would love to see outfits that any of you have “appropriated” in fairly literal fashion from other bloggers or catalogues! Send links or images our way, either in the comments or to chic [at] academichic [dot] com!

Necklace Necklace, originally uploaded by academichic.

We Prefer To Call It Appropriation, originally uploaded by academichic.

Tartan and Cords, originally uploaded by academichic.

Sources:

• Sweater: Theory via Off 5th
• Scarf: gift (from Scotland)
• Belt: Fossil
• Watch: Tissot
• Corduroys: DKNY via Filene’s Basement
• Boots: Florence, Italy

Endnotes:
Snow day! Well, not really since I work at a boarding school, but wow did we get a lot of snow yesterday. I bundled up in boots and a scarf to keep out the cold and channeled cozy feelings while watching the flakes fly. As I’ve said before, part of my desire to embrace skinny style pants was the ability to tuck these into boots without lots of bagginess or ballooning around the knees.

Brown Boots, originally uploaded by academichic.

I’m not a big boot wearer with skirts, but I am breaking myself into the pants and boots look both for utilitarian purposes (warmth, walking in the snow, etc.) and stylish ones as well. I suppose that this outfit qualifies as mixing neutrals since the basis is grey and brown with the only real color coming from the muted oranges, blues, and yellows of the tartan scarf. I love this scarf and it was a gift from my best friend when she returned from a trip to Scotland years ago. Just this year I’ve started to wear my outdoor scarves as regular daywear as both accessories and to warm up outfits that might otherwise be drafty. For instance I’ve been using scarves to help sweaters, such as this crewneck cardigan, become turtlenecks.

Tartan, originally uploaded by academichic.

I like the result because unlike a true turtleneck these ones can be removed or loosened throughout the day to accommodate the wild temperature swings between my apartment, office, and classroom. I love the colors in this tartan, and I think that is what my friend was attracted to as well. However, today I had a colleague come up to me at lunch and ask if I was a Buchanan because she was and recognized the tartan that I was wearing. I had no idea which clan’s tartan I was wearing, but it got me thinking about a kind of cultural appropriation that we don’t often think of. S. brought this up in April last year with a post about wearing gold jewelry and being asked if she was a gypsy. A. also wrote on this regarding how purposeful appropriation operates in terms of camp and kitch, and finally E. brought up the point that our bodies are not neutral and they too contribute to certain assumptions that are made about the clothing we wear. While asking someone who is white, has red hair, and is wearing a tartan if she is descended from a particular Scottish clan is different than these other examples, it made me wonder about all sorts of cultural assumptions that we make about the people around us. In this case, I was being identified as “same” not “other”, and the woman was very excited that she had potentially found a member of her extended family. This piece of tartan was originally used as a unifying feature of a clan and as this story illustrates can be seen as means for community building even today. I was surprised at my colleague’s question and it reminded of the things that both my clothes and my body might say about me intentionally or not. I know that style, fashion, and clothing in general does not spring to life out of a vacuum and instead is influenced by other cultures, periods, regions, and ethnicities. My intention in reflecting on this is to question why or how being asked if I was Scottish because of my scarf is the same or different from someone remarking that S. looked like a gypsy because of her gold earrings?

~L.

Tartan and Cords, originally uploaded by academichic.

Sources:

• Dress – Banana Republic Outlet
• Necklace – J.Jill
• Damask tights – Anthropologie
• Boots – Banana Republic
• Red cuff – H&M

Endnotes:

This is probably my favorite outfit worn since becoming pregnant. I’m not counting the first few weeks when my body was the same size as before and I could still wear everything I own just as before. I’m talking about my favorite outfit since my jeans and skirts all became too tight, since I switched to preggers pants, and since I’ve felt a bit self-conscious in clingy jersey dresses.

Yesterday I wrote about how I’ve been wearing loose tops and baggier layers to camouflage what I perceived as my ‘new lecturer 15’ look. Then, at the end of last week, I decided to just wear what I wanted to wear and not worry about prompting the “is she? isn’t she pregnant?” look from others based on my growing but not yet baby-bumpish midsection.

I loved this outfit because it wasn’t built around my changing body but came to be inspite of it. It’s got all these elements that I love and would have worn before: the little black dress, the pop of bright red color, the crazy damask tights…

Incidentally, the day I wore this, one of my students did ask if she should congratulate me. But no, not because she assumed anything by looking at me but because she had facebook stalked me (yes, we all had a good laugh over this before class, but be careful what you make available on your profile!) and she had seen my profile picture (the only thing visible to my students), which has me grinning and pointing to my belly. This particular student is a mother herself and was thrilled for me. As were my other students, who immediately congratulated me and asked questions about when the baby’s due and whether I’d have to suffer through summer while preggers (the answer, a resounding yes, as I’m due at the end of July).

Two of my classes now know that I’m pregnant and the response has been positive yet not overwhelming. While my students seemed genuinely pleased for me, once class began, our focus was on the course and the tasks at hand. Last year, we discussed the pregnant body as the ‘public body’ in the classroom during our roundtable discussion for Sal’s site Already Pretty. E. made some interesting observations based on her experience of teaching while pregnant and I’m interested to see how my experience will go as I become more visibly pregnant and my belly takes more of a presence in the room. Maybe I’m being naïve, but I don’t see things changing much.

This, of course, is due to the fact that I find myself to be on a pretty family friendly campus in a very family friendly department. My colleagues and chair have been very kind and positive and my students have shown the same consideration. Several readers have asked to discuss the question of academia and pregnancy/motherhood and I’d be happy to continue addressing this topic over the next months. I can only speak from my personal experience, which has been very positive thus far. In fact, I have a possible ‘very awesome project’ I’m working on for the month of May with a (male) colleague, who has been incredibly supportive and undisturbed by the fact that I’ll be seven months pregnant by the time this project comes to fruition and we’ll be spending a lot of time on foot carrying it out. So I’ll gladly discuss my experience, but I warn you that it’s been altogether good thus far, and I may end up gushing unabashedly.

I’d love to hear from others out there who are navigating a professional life along with being pregnant or mothering children. What were your experiences like? Alternately, if you’re someone who asked about balancing grad school with pregnancy, what are your main concerns? The work load? The response from your department? The reaction of your colleagues or students? Thanks, in advance, for your always stimulating feedback! – S.