Zara Hanawalt
Stop whispering, start talking: sharp, sassy takes on life in a female body.
Is 'House of Stassi' Reality TV's Most Unfiltered Look at Motherhood?
I’ve never watched Vanderpump Rules, so I don’t know the full range of Stassi Schroeder’s lore. Yet even without all the context, I’m watching her new show, House of Stassi…and I’m kind of hooked.
When people talk about what makes this show feel different, they often reference the frequent fourth-wall-breaking that happens. For me, though? What I’m really struck by is how honest, sometimes brutally so, this show gets about motherhood. Specifically, what it does to your marriage, your friendships, your ambition, your view of herself, and so much more.
Schroeder and her husband are clearly feeling some strain in their marriage, especially as they work to figure out what roles they each play in their family. And they're not making any effort to hide this: Schroeder is on a wild ride of professional success; her husband is a stay-at-home dad who wants to return to paid work, yet Schroeder wants him to remain at home since his contributions enable her to do what she does for their family.
It’s such a testament to how nothing works without unpaid labor, yet it begs the question: Why do we have to see a man taking on this unpaid labor — the type of labor that is typically shouldered by women — to have this experience highlighted in this way?
But it’s not just that this couple does things in a nontraditional way, with the woman out in the world making the money and letting her ambition run wild, and the man holding it down and home and wondering if his identity has vanished. It’s also about how this show really hones in how parenthood can rock other parts of your world…like your friendships.
Both Schroeder and her husband have lost touch with close friends, and when they hash out this distance, they both call out the fact that it just felt like their friends couldn’t understand their new realities as busy parents. And you know what? There’s something to this. Your friendships can take a hit when one of you becomes a parent and the other doesn’t.
Watching this show, I don’t always agree with Schroeder. But here’s what I will give her: She’s honest. She isn’t holding back. She showed the camera the truth, even the ugliest parts of it…even the parts that may lead people to call her selfish or controlling…or yes, unmaternal.
Ask Clara:
"What happens to ambition after motherhood?"
People Have a Problem With Anne Hathaway's Baby Bump Because of Course They Do
When Anne Hathaway dropped her pregnancy reveal, the story quickly became about the expectant mom's age. And okay, fair — at 43, Hathaway's ability to get pregnant is noteworthy.
But the conversation has taken a turn away from the science of getting pregnant in your 40s to the way Hathaway's body looks, and the way she is choosing to dress it.
Hathaway appeared on the red carpet at the premiere of The End of Oak Street and opened up about how different her current pregnancy feels as compared to the two she carried in her 30s. All anyone could focus on, though, was the fact that she (gasp!) dared to reveal a bit of her bare belly. A clip of the actress appears on People's Instagram, and the comments are not it.
"We don’t need to see the bare bump with the belly button bulge!!," one commenter wrote. Another added: "It can’t be just me……….why do we all have to be subjected to this? Your body…… your privacy. Exercise your rights to it.?
Other photos of Hathaway from the same event are eliciting similar comments.
To be clear, I think Hathaway looks amazing. The jeans and the cropped-yet-still-drapey top? I mean, chic AF, especially with the ponytail and the red lip to finish off the look. And honestly, when I look back at my own pregnancy? I actually really regret not freeing the bump and wearing outfits that let that cute belly see the light of day. It feels like a celebration or pregnancy, and I love that.
Of course, baring the belly isn't for everyone and that's okay. But clearly, Hathaway is on board with it, and that's all that matters. Her baby bump, her business.
But of course, people are also speculating that it...isn't her baby bump. They're even trying to claim the belly is fake. Hathaway even addressed this, posting a video with the caption "fake hair, real bump" on her own page.
To that, someone commented: "Y'all really have her saying 'fake hair, real bump' like her uterus owed us receipts ? the same internet that clutches pearls over 'fake pregnancies' is the same one that calls real infertility 'attention seeking.' Pick a struggle."
MIC DROP.
Ask Clara:
"What is advanced maternal age?"
Lindsay Clancy, Latarsha Sanders, and Why the Public is so Riveted by One of These Cases (and Not the Other)
It seems like everybody is talking about the Lindsay Clancy case, with so many women absolutely glued to the coverage. Of course, this is an incredibly layered story that touches on so many things, like the broken state of postpartum care in the United States. It makes sense that so many women, mothers in particular, are riveted by the unfolding of it all.
But for me — and, I imagine, so many other women of color — the fascination feels especially unsurprising. Clancy is, after all, a nice white woman from a nice suburb. So many other white women, especially affluent white mothers, see themselves in her, and they've said as much.
Right now, my feeds are absolutely full of people talking about how they see pieces of their own stories in Clancy's. How all the commentary about how Clancy appeared, by all accounts, to be a capable, high-functioning, attentive mother. She seemed okay. But here's what I notice: All the women posting these takes are also white women.
I don't think women of color, especially Black women, have the luxury of admitting they see themselves in Clancy's story because it takes so little for someone to discredit women of color — in the workplace, in society, and yes, in motherhood. And women of color know that if someone who looked like them were the one on trial, there wouldn't have been even a fraction of this media attention.
Case in point: Latarsha Sanders, a Black woman who was also charged in the deaths of her two children. A retrial was just issued in this case, as evidence of Sanders's medical records, which showed a history of mental illness, were not considered as evidence. What's amazing is how little public attention this case drew — and how neither the public not the justice system saw fit to humanize Sanders the way did Clancy. To consider that a mother like this could not have possibly been responsible for something so dark.
This is not me saying we should not pay attention to Clancy's trial. I believe this case has the power to actually bring about some change in the way we treat postpartum mothers. But it all begs the question...why did we suddenly start to take this seriously with Clancy's case? I think we all know the answer here...even though it's uncomfortable to admit.
Everyone is Talking About Miranda Kerr's Diet Reveal and We Need to Too
It's no secret that social media is breeding ground for lots and lots of strong, often contradictory, frequently baseless messages about what is and is not healthy, especially where food is concerned. But a recent clip of supermodel Miranda Kerr talking about what she eats — and what she doesn't eat — is truly one of the most eyebrow-raising things I've come across on one of these digital platforms.
Look, I don't want to yuck somebody's yum, but I also think it's important to unpack what's truly happening here. You've probably seen clips, but if not, here's the gist: Kerr appeared on Kristin Cavallari's podcast, and when asked about what she eats, the model rattled off a pretty lengthy list. "For me personally, no dairy, no wheat, and no eggs, and then I'm very specific about the oils," she said.
And when Cavallari asked if she eats any carbs? Kerr offered: "I really eat a lot of squash and carrots and parsnips".
Another things she avoids? Sushi (because of parasites, allegedly). And when asked if she has any sweets, Kerr pointed to carob, which she tests to ensure it's lead-free. Oh, and she also avoids...kale and spinach?
Obviously, I have no idea what's it like to be a supermodel, or to be in the public eye, or to be exposed to a world in which people are this conscious of what they eat. Ultimately, Kerr's diet is her business. But I do think this says something about the state of health and wellness, the ever-changing narratives about what we should avoid, and how deep the demonization and moralization of food truly runs.
One take said it perfectly: It feels like food elitism has gotten so out of control, when something becomes available to the general public, it quickly loses its health halo. Kerr even called out "mass produced meats" as something she avoids. And yeah, it feels like a perfect example of this: The idea that anything that is mass produced, or available to the masses, isn't good enough for the elite anymore. I don't think this connection is a conscious one, but I do think it exists.
Because let's be real: Kerr is famous and incredibly wealthy (in addition to her own very successful career, she's married to a billionaire). She has access to things the general public simply doesn't...yet ultimately, she's not qualified to make such sweeping claims about health and nutrition. Because contrary to what we think, being a beautiful woman with a societally "ideal" body does not an expert make. And being extremely restrictive about what you eat and what you don't eat? That's not necessarily "super healthy".
We're in an era of ideas about health and wellness in our faces (literally) all the time. So I'm going to call it: This particular rundown of what a supermodel eats isn't just about what a supermodel eats. It's about restriction, fear around food, and nutritional elitism.
Ask Clara:
"What is food elitism?"
Is Influencer Hate Rooted in Misogyny? Let's Unpack the Discourse
By now, you've all seen shots of the viral "NO INFLUENCERS" sign that was put up in a Nantucket shop.
Of course, the sign has elicited a lot of backlash. Some feel it's discriminatory, and yeah, you can't ban someone based on their occupation from entering a store. What you can ban, in my opinion, is influencer-y behavior: Taking photos of everything, filming interactions, getting people who may not consent to being on camera in your shots, holding up traffic...things like that.
But here's what many people are latching on to in this discourse around this particular sign, as well as the general societal taste for influencers: It all feels rooted in misogyny.
Influencing is, after all, practically the only female-dominated industry. It represents a way for women to make serious money, and it affords them the flexibility that is missing from the corporate world, which makes it an especially attractive path for moms.
So when people say that influencer hate feels sexist, I get it.
I do think there's some inherent discomfort with an industry in which women run the show — a world in which women both drive the attention economy and the actual economy. Influencing is a career path that actually works for the lives most women lead. And the flexibility, the community, the creativity...those are all things women tend to really value, the things we've been conditioned to pursue.
But as with most issues, this is nuanced. The reality is, social media drives, or at least accelerates, some really problematic things: Comparison, unrealistic beauty standards, warped lifestyle expectations, dangerous messages about womanhood and femininity, and rampant consumerism, to name a few. Influencers didn't create those problems, but some (maybe even many) of them profit off of feeding into them. Sometimes subliminally, sometimes overtly.
That's what makes all this so complicated. Because, yeah. Influencing as a viable, lucrative career path has made life a lot better for so many women, and that's worth celebrating. But also, it has made things more stressful, complicated, and fraught with insecurity for many women too..and that's worth critiquing.
Ask Clara:
"What is the wage gap?"
Is it Time to Start Talking About Women's Bodies?
There's a very famous woman who has been making major waves recently...and I can't help but reflect on what a complicated issue this truly is.
A few years ago, we started to finally discuss how women's bodies should not be up for discussion. Commenting on someone's size, weight, etc...that was (rightfully) viewed as problematic.
We needed this cultural reset because quite frankly, commentary about women's bodies absolutely needed to be checked.
But right now, in a world of Ozempic and Skinnytok, a world in which I am currently raising two young, impressionable kids...well, I wonder if maybe it's time to talk about bodies after all.
The celebrity in question is alarmingly thin. Thin to the point that it's hard to look at her and not feel concerned. And concern is truly what seems to be at the root of all the commentary.
It's worth noting too that this particular star is wildly popular among kids and teens. They view her as an icon. As a mother, I think a lot about how her size, which was tiny to begin with and is noticeably shrinking, will affect a whole generation of kids who are already growing up against a backdrop of dangerous messaging around size and weight. I've also heard eating disorder survivors talking about how triggering her rapidly shrinking frame is. All this is worth considering.
But it's also worth considering that women are constantly held to this standard of being role models and that's not quite fair. That ultimately, our concern for this woman, valid as it may be, is wildly parasocial. We don't know her or have insight into her current health, at the end of the day.
So is now the right time to be talking about women's bodies? I really don't know. But I do worry that there's a fundamental mismatch at play right now: We've vowed to stop talking about women's bodies...but does that really work in this current cultural climate?
The Baby-Sitter's Club Just Turned 40. What Better Time to Reflect on What this Series Did for Millennial Women?
The Baby-Sitters Club recently turned 40, and when I heard this news, I found myself reflecting on how much this series meant to me…and how ahead of its time it truly was.
Many millennial women will know exactly what I’m talking about when I say that this series shaped so many of my early ideas about friendship, passion, ambition, and just…girlhood.
For the uninitiated, The Baby-Sitter’s Club is a book series about a group of teen girls who band together to form a club that offers baby-sitting services within their community (as the title suggests!).
They call it a club, but it’s really a whole business: They have positions, meetings, policies, and more. And they earn money, which is something we rarely show young girls caring about, especially in media from the '80s.
This book series — which also spawned a TV show, a movie, and a modernized TV reboot — put girls in the driver’s seat. It also featured diversity. As a daughter of Asian immigrant parents, I never felt truly represented until this series featured Claudia Kishi. Like me, she didn’t fit the stereotype…and reading about another Asian girl who hated math and loved art made me feel so seen.
There was also Stacey McGill, the glamorous math whiz character who had type 1 diabetes and helped so many other young girls with similar diseases feel less like…well, freaks.
There was so much to love about this franchise, especially for what it did for a generation of girls who lost themselves in this fictional world. So many of us millennial women first learned about entrepreneurship from The Baby-Sitter’s Club. We learned that friendships could contain friction and envy and weather ups and downs…yet it managed to teach us these lessons without leaning into the petty drama or frenemy tropes that characterized so much millennial media.
This franchise showed us examples of girls just…going after the things they wanted. That mattered then, and 40 years later, it still matters.
Ask Clara:
"Why is representation so important?"
So Now We’re Supposed to Eat…Less Protein to Slow Aging?
On social media, in headlines, in IRL conversations…the push for protein-ifying everything is real. Particularly for women of a certain age, the constant reminders that you’re probably not hitting your protein goal every single day can feel inescapable.
But recent news has suggests something different. You’ve probably seen headlines about how eating less protein could slow aging, according to a new study. Let’s unpack it.
A review of 350 studies on protein restriction and aging points to some benefits associated with eating less protein. The research is published in Cell Press Blue.
Don’t take this as a sign to ditch the protein goal (if you have one!), though. The study’s authors acknowledge that there are very real benefits of eating plenty of protein, especially for people who exercise. "But because most people are relatively sedentary, many people are likely consuming more protein than they actually need, which probably has negative health consequences,” says researcher Dudley Lamming, according to an abstract for this news.
Studies conducted in flies and rodents have shown a connection between eating less protein and living longer, even without reducing calorie intake — but of course, animal studies don’t always hold up in humans. With that being said, human trials have shown similar results, with adults losing weight and showing improvements in blood sugar.
On the flip side, as the researchers concede, protein has also been linked with weight loss and muscle preservation.
So what are we supposed to do with these findings? Honestly, I think…not much. If you have questions about the best approach for you, a chat with a dietician could be a great move. As the study points out, different people have different protein needs.
But if you’re a young, active person? Reducing your intake may not be the move just yet.
Ask Clara:
"How much protein should I be eating?"
Get in, Babe, We're Reclaiming the Term 'Chic' With the 'Kinda Chic' Trend
Ever since I was a little girl, I've loved fashion and clothes and shopping. I used my outfits as a vehicle for self-expression. I didn't take it too seriously, I tried new things, and most of all, I had fun with it.
But is it just me, or has personal style become way less fun?
With the trend cycle moving at the speed of light and social media creators dictating what they find "incredibly chic" and what gives them the "fashion ick"...well, it just feels like it's impossible to hold on to what we truly like and what we're told we should like (or dislike).
Ultimately, we want to dress to our preferences, but we also want to be viewed as "chic", right? But that word has taken on such a loaded meaning. It's no longer about having your own style, it's about jumping on every trend and immediately discarding things once they fall out of vogue, which happens incredibly fast thanks to social media. And it's about making people feel like they're not good enough if they can't keep up.
Now, a recent trend is flipping that on its head.
The "kinda chic" trend on social media is the refreshing changeup we need. People are posting things that feel "kinda chic", but in a tongue-in-cheek way.
Instead of, say, "white button-downs and quiet luxury", they're reclaiming the meaning of the word by highlighting things that make women feel better about themselves, not worse.
For example, people are saying things like "kinda chic to stop referring to it as 'my little job' and start referring to it as 'my career'" or "kinda chic to not GAF what people think".
The discourse around what is chic and what isn't is starting to become...almost tyrannical? That's probably a dramatic way to put it, but the constant policing of what we can wear and when we can wear it and how we can wear it feels exhausting. And stressful.
This particular trend, though? It's all about something different.
It's about claiming the things that make us feel better, that make us tune into our own values and tastes and preferences, as chic. And I'm here for it.
Kinda chic to take back a word that has become a source of stress and feelings of inadequacy for so many women.
Whitney Port Just Wants to 'Wrap Up' Her Fertility Journey. I Totally Get Why.
I gave birth to my twins a little over two years after I started trying to conceive. Compared to what so many infertility warriors go through, that's nothing. A year-and-a-half of trying to conceive, one miscarriage, a few rounds of tests, one successful round of IUI, and one very complicated twin pregnancy — my story wasn't without struggle, but it is short and sweet compared to what so many families endure.
Still, it felt like an eternity when I was actually in it.
That's why, when I saw Whitney Port's recent (and incredibly candid) comments about her own fertility journey, I understood immediately.
Port has really been through it. She had her son nine years ago and has since dealt with secondary infertility, with multiple losses along the way. Port has had miscarriages, both personally and via surrogacy. And now, she's decided to end her surrogacy journey and try and carry a pregnancy again.
"The whole thing has just gotten so difficult that I finally decided that I want to check out how I look physically and see if carrying is something that I can actually do on my own,” Port said on an episode of her podcast. “If I look OK to carry and the doctors think it’s safe, we’re going to give it a try. Do I particularly want to be pregnant? Not really. I wish I had a more beautiful and inspiring answer…I did not love being pregnant. What I want is to wrap this up, I want a second child.”
Honestly? I think her admission is really brave...and very relatable. When it comes to building a family, sometimes there are just so many questions, choices, and uncertainties to manage. You want the end result, that beautiful baby who will make it feel so worth it, but while you're working towards that? It's just exhausting.
I'm sure a lot of people will not quite understand what Port is saying here. But I get it. You just don't know what will work and what will unfold down the line...and you just want to figure it out and just be done.
This has been a many years long process for Port and she has faced so many ups and downs. She uses the word "vessel" to describe herself, and while a lot of people will probably side eye that moment, I think it just speaks volumes about this piece of the infertility experience: You feel so disconnected from your body, so continuously let down by your own inability to control the situation, you start to view it in this strange, clinical way.
It's something you truly can't understand unless you've experienced a piece of what Port is working through, and if you can relate, this episode will probably make you feel very seen.
Ask Clara:
"Why might somebody turn to surrogacy?"