Abstract
Lecturing on the art of oral advocacy while wedged onto my daughter’s bottom bunk, surrounded by her stuffed animals and proudly displayed soccer medals, pretty much epitomizes how the Coronavirus pandemic upended my professional life this spring. And while yes, I did consider using a virtual background to conceal my whereabouts, it seemed too blatant a lie at that point. I was barely holding the pieces of my life together, and I was fairly sure my students could tell. If you can’t relate to this story, you’re probably not a working mom. This personal essay explores the ways the pandemic has disproportionately and negatively impacted working mothers, and suggests the recognition and use of vulnerability as a preliminary path forward.