The Ruhlman Conference was an exciting day with presentation preparations, enticing food, and buzzing spectators. Leading up the event, putting together the presentation on powerpoint and memorizing my notes made me feel prepared and confident for the day. When we finally got to the presentation room, I was happy to see that we had outside spectators, those who had not been in our class beforehand. I thoroughly enjoyed everyone’s presentations that day and appreciated the thought, effort, and humor every group put in to make their presentations cohesive in theme. There was such a level of energy and I felt that I really did learn more about the other neurotransmitters and the effects they have on our body on a molecular and physiological level. When it came to be Dopamine’s turn, I was nervous to present about the role of dopamine as a hormone because I did not want to get the scientific explanation wrong and bore my audience. Thus, I tried to keep the presentation brief and light. I explained how dopamine acts as a prolactin-inhibiting factor, demonstrating the concept through the bookmarks I created for the audience. Overall, I felt that the presentation had gone well and I was proud of our group. Afterwards, however, one of the audience members actually approached me. I was completely caught off guard because I was so intent on getting sushi. She pulled me aside, telling me that my presentation had offended her. When I heard this comment, I completely fell into shock. All I wanted to do was grab some sushi, but now I was put on the spot to defend my position, or perhaps listen to her critique. She told me that she felt that I had presented the concept of lactation in a demeaning way, that I was putting down this beautiful concept of women’s bodies and the importance of breast milk. She felt that I should take lactation more seriously, emphasizing the importance of women’s bodies. Lastly, she told me that “especially because you go to Wellesley, you should be promoting women’s bodies in a glorified way.” When I heard these critiques, I honestly could not form a coherent response. So many thoughts jumped to my head, but I ended up just apologizing to her. I told her that I had no intention of offending anyone, that maybe my limited knowledge of neurotransmitters impeded me in perhaps accurately or knowledgeably portraying the role of dopamine in lactation. I apologized multiple times, but she had no intention of accepting my apology, so I decided to just continue to listen to her critiques. Afterwards, I was upset to say the least, but I couldn’t figure out why. Was I angry that she caught me off guard? Was I angry that Ruhlman ended on a sour note? Did all my work completely go to waste? Or, was I just seriously bad at taking criticism? I’ll admit, perhaps I didn’t take my portrayal of dopamine in prolactin as the most serious stance. I use humor a lot, and maybe that is a defense mechanism or just an inherent part of my personality. Maybe I did use humor too much at the expense of scientific knowledge. But, why is it that “especially because I go to Wellesley,” that I have to promote some sort of ideology? Sure, I think that ideological stances are important, but I wasn’t focused on this when I was presenting on dopamine and lactation. Overall, I’ve learned that I have to be more careful, that I have to find a balance between seriousness and lightheartedness in portrayal, even in topics that seem much more objective in science. I guess I’m still working through her critiques because I have a difficult time forgetting things, but these words at the Ruhlman Conference are probably what affected me the most.