To some extent, this book owes its existence to the COVID-19 pandemic. It had been a few years since the contract to write it had been signed, and every year, with truly commendable patience, the publisher asked me the much-dreaded question: Is it almost ready? The truth was that, as much as I wanted to, it had been extremely difficult for me to write a book, instead of articles or other pieces in shorter or collaborative formats. Writing a book requires constant dedication, committed and uninterrupted working time slots, and a degree of isolation that I have simply found difficult to combine with the rest of my academic obligations (classes, exam grading, thesis supervision, mentoring, conferences, preparation, direction, or coordination of research projects, reviews, travel abroad, etc.) and with the obligations of my role as first, a de facto, and then, a de jure single mother of two (food provision, calendar organization, homework, playdates, sports, doctors, housekeeping, holidays, etc.), despite the fact that I have always enjoyed a set of privileges (middle class, fairly white skin, and Spanish-European origin). Put together, this set of traits have no doubt allowed me to delegate part of that care work on other women who were economically more vulnerable – often, though not always, of immigrant origin. Without their assistance, not just this book but combining motherhood and an academic career would have simply been impossible. Add to this the more or less common, yet often painful, vicissitudes of life (moving between countries several times, sentimental turmoil, periods of illnesses, or loss of loved ones), and the bare truth is that, for a long time, I came to think that the time would never come for this book to see the light of day.