As part of the series ‘Motherland in Adland’, Bethany and Chinkara share their stories of motherhood in the industry full of resilience, honesty, and a need for change, with LBB

Motherhood in advertising and production is still seen as a hurdle rather than an asset – a choice that forces women into impossible trade-offs, often laced with guilt and sacrifice. While the conversation around working mothers has grown louder, real action remains slow.

This series, spearheaded by NERD’s Milana Karaica, Motherland in Adland aims to give space to the realities of balancing leadership and parenthood, beyond the clichés and lip service

Following Milana’s story, we now hear from two more women navigating this delicate, demanding balance. Freelance senior agency producer Bethany Easton reflects on the relentless push-and-pull between career passion and the emotional weight of motherhood, sharing the raw, bittersweet moments of being present yet absent at the same time. Meanwhile, Chinkara Singh, SVP, group director of creative production at Area 23, sheds light on the systemic challenges – from missed promotions to self-funded maternity leave – while celebrating the power of solidarity and advocacy for working mothers in the industry.

Bethany Easton, senior agency producer
Freelance

I am insanely lucky to have a job that I bloody love, and even luckier to have the daughter and then the son that I always dreamt of. We have the sort of genuinely happy lives that make most people want to vomit just a little, like when my kids snuggle under a blanket with their books, occasionally whispering ‘I love you’ to each other. I’m not even lying and I totally permit you to hate my smug gittish face.

But there’s something about being a working parent that forces a mum to live in a state of permanent, and painful, cognitive dissonance.

In the red corner: having an identity. I’m so happy when I’m working. I love that I’m modelling for my kids how amazing it is to be fired-up by hard work and passion, and I can afford to send them to schools where they’re safe and happy.

In the blue corner, weighing in at more than any heart can take: guilt.

There was the time I was working hard, utterly smashing it on a huge production, and through the baby monitor (which always adds a touch of horror-film quease), I heard my toddler saying to the baby “Don’t worry, baby, Mummy is just working. And do you know when she’ll stop working? Never. Even when she’s dead, she’ll be working and feeding the trees.”

There was another time, just after the youngest had learned to write, that I had to focus on an evening conference call while he brought me multiple notes along the lines of ‘WEN WIL YOU BE FINSHED’, and ‘YOU ARE HERE BUT I STILL MIS YOU’. And actually, perhaps the hardest part of that call wasn’t even the notes, but the way I felt I had to keep my eyes and smile fixed on the camera, and effectively blank my son. That hurt us both.

Nobody imagines that one day they might be the sort of mum who tries to mutter to her child that she honestly does love them, whilst briefly on mute and trying not to move her lips.

It’s exhausting to pretend that we don’t all have actual lives, in which we are charged with the safe-keeping of the tiny hearts of small humans who actually mean more to us than anything, even – whisper it – the smooth running of a shampoo commercial.

But things are definitely shifting, and in the right direction (ish). Along with the post-pandemic total breakdown of any work-life boundaries, and being required to be available 24 hours a day, comes the opportunity to be honest about childcare needs, GP appointments, gym classes, the dentist, and all the myriad things that, but a short few years ago, we felt required to pretend didn’t even exist. Everything is changing and, with luck, will change permanently, meaning my kids will forever be astounded and confused by what they thought were my choices to make. And that hurts, too.

Chinkara Singh SVP, group director, creative production
Area 23

The last thing you want to see in an ad agency is the top of your 18-month-old son’s curls bopping down the main corridor on his way to a client meeting. He was squealing with joy that he made it away from me. Luckily, my kind creative director caught him just before an awkward career moment. The babysitter couldn’t make it, my husband was away on a shoot, and I couldn’t cancel my meetings because they were timed against an important award meeting. It was one of those ‘What do I do?’ moments.

After 25 years in this industry, I’ve faced many challenges both personal and professional. There was a time I was passed over for a promotion because I temporarily couldn’t fly. I also missed out on freelance opportunities because I had too many doctor’s appointments during my high-risk pregnancy. When my youngest was born, I had to pay for an entire year of maternity leave out of pocket to bond with my child. It wasn’t easy. But I’ve had wins too, like IPG being the first company I worked full-time for that allowed stepchildren on insurance! And being supported for speaking up when I needed to pump breastmilk on set and still watch takes.

I’ve also had to push through some incredibly difficult personal moments. I’ve gone to work after miscarriages, feeling physically and emotionally drained, because the expectation is often that we just keep going, no matter the pain we’re carrying. There should be more time for gig workers and staffers to take the time they need after such a loss. It’s heartbreaking, but it’s something many of us have had to endure in silence, because there’s often no room for grief in the fast-paced world of production.

One thing I’m particularly proud of was encouraging a mother who had just had twins. She was about to go on a shoot and had to figure out how to ship her milk back home while she was away. I helped contribute to a guide for breastfeeding mothers on set, written by Bernadette Rivero, and pointed her toward this resource. A resource that every production department should offer to working mothers. Another mother came to me for encouragement for her IVF journey because I was open with mine. That sense of solidarity in the face of challenges knowing that we’re all in this together means community.

The truth is, being open about both the struggles and successes allows us to learn from each other. When we share the highs and lows of motherhood, we create a stronger support system for all parents in this fast-paced, high-pressure industry. It’s about showing up as your whole self and helping others do the same. By being honest, we can make this industry more inclusive, supportive, and encouraging for mothers.