From Slate:
Recently, Slate columnist Katie Roiphe raised the possibility that the choice not to have children remains a taboo, that no matter what we say to our childless friends at dinner parties—that we envy them, that we wish we, too, could go out every night and wake up at 11 on Sundays—we “secretly feel sorry for or condescend to or fail to understand women who don’t have children.” Not that the child-free owe us any explanation, but we are asking for one. More like a full and proud defense. Our aim here is to clear the taboo once and for all.
I submitted my answer to their request, but it was not published (in my opinion because it wasn't a cutesty, happy, inspiring story like they wanted). So I am printing it here, because I think it is an important part of the conversation.
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It’s so difficult for child-free men and women (but women especially) to provide a “full and proud defense” because, when we vocalize the very reasons that have led us to this decision, the reasons sound more like judgments and condemnations of those who make the opposite choice. Can a mother hear me say, “I am not having children because [insert any reason at all]” and not hear, even just a little, “I am not having children because I’m better than you”? Whether parents feel sorry for us or feel jealous of us, we’re still on the receiving end of some very negative emotions. Bad juju.
Let me make an analogy: I was a religious person for a very long time. Several years ago, I stopped being religious and stopped believing in God. I “came out” in an essay published on an atheism website, but my non-belief is not something I talk about much in public because I don’t want to answer the questions that inevitably follow. I don’t want to “defend my choice.” I also don’t want to convert you. I just want to be. And many people feel that way about religion, so it’s socially accepted as one of those hot potatoes not up for discussion—a taboo. Like politics and many social issues, it’s hardly ever a polite discussion because the questions people typically ask are not borne of curiosity. They are borne of antagonism. People are itching for a fight. People want to know if you’re with them or against them.
This battle has been foisted on the child-free by a society with little intention other than to judge us, or to examine us as cultural curiosities. There are sides now. I never wanted to be on a side. I don’t want to judge your choice. I don’t want to convert you. I just want to be.
But this child-choice issue is different from religion and politics in that you can’t easily check a box and affiliate yourself. If you have a child, you are firmly in the camp of “parent.” If you do not have a child, however, there’s this weird other camp I like to call, “But.”
“But you two would make such wonderful parents.”
“But you’ll change your mind when your biological clock starts ticking.”
“But I want grandkids.”
The expectation is that if you are without children, you are in a “pre-” state of parenthood, rather than a “non-” state of parenthood. I could write you a lovely little essay about “why I am child-free and happy,” but declaring my intentions does little good, because there’s always the “but.” I don’t know how many times I’ve told my own mother I’m not having children; she still thinks I will, eventually.
And so the child-free seem unbearably difficult to pin down, even though we’re vocally and adamantly self-pinned. We don’t want to offer up the “full and proud defense” because it always devolves into a waiting game that everyone is playing without us. At what point do I “win” this argument that I don’t even want to have? How many avowals do I have to make? How old do I have to get?
I will never be able to give anyone a reason why I’m child-free that will make them say “aha” and move, satisfied, to another topic. You seek enlightenment where there is none to be had, because you are not really seeking enlightenment at all; you are seeking a mirror in which to validate your own choices. Either I will validate those choices or I will not, but it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you.
4 comments:
This touches on something I find myself harping on a lot (probably more than I ought to, honestly), especially as I hurtle towards gray-bearded middle age: my mantra that A Preference Is Not A Virtue. But we swim constantly in cultural waters that insist on confusing the two.
So this notion, that the things we like and the life choices we make are not only what's best for us individually, but the best thing for everyone, and therefore we are Better People for embracing them, is endemic. It's probably a deeply-rooted human pattern - the thing that in tribal societies made it possible to distinguish between Us and Not-Us - but it's not serving us well in the multicultural age. And I have to say that intellectuals and progressives and geeks are horribly prone to it; it's a stance that we often adopt defensively about the things we value, but it's awfully easy to lose perspective once you're there, and things like "I'm not interested in professional sports" turn into "people who are into sports are losers."
At their worst, these ideas become shibboleths and in-group markers, and it can become difficult to have conversations about even innocuous things like food and entertainment. And subjects of genuine weight and import are that much more fraught.
Parenting occupies a sort of unique place in our culture, because the expectation of it is so prevalent (along with the real desire of most people to be parents), and it's also a very grave and significant thing to undertake - and it's very, very difficult, and a drain on time and resources, and a commitment that almost everyone agrees is far beyond what anyone expects before they go into it. So along with reinforcing norms, a lot of the bewildered and venemous responses childfree people face have to do with a need for validation. If it's a morally superior choice to become a parent, then the gruesomely hard work and sacrifice is worth it; but I think those things can be harder to swallow if it's just one valid choice among many. Even - mabye especially - if nobody in the conversation is conscious of feeling that way about it.
So of course there's an expectation that you ought to justify yourself, and make a case for why your life choice is okay. Because the default choice is not only default but linked with virtuousness - and it's assumed that if you choose differently you must be passing the same kind of judgment yourself. Which is to say: bravo to you for refusing to play the game at all.
(I think the childfree issue is echoed, on a somewhat smaller scale, in the response that women get who keep their names when they marry. My cousin Amy blogged about this recently on Unchained Faith, and how she always feels like women who don't change their names are passing judgment when they talk about their decision. But there's a whole cultural apparatus in place that they're moving against, part of the set of default expectations that teaches women to devalue their surnames and not get attached to them, and choosing differently means digging in your heels and justifying your decision over and over again. And people will assume you think you're better than everyone else whether you do or not - and you may find yourself acting like it out of sheer self-preservation.)
I have a blog devoted to the subject of Childfreedom and in the several years I've had the blog, the post that by far has been the most popular is called "The Top 100Reasons Not to Have Kids (and Remain Childfree)".
http://www.childfreedom.blogspot.com/2009/03/top-100-reasons-not-to-have-kids-and.html
So many childfree folks have commented on this post and emailed me privately to thank me for articulating the unending reasons we have chosen this wonderful life.
Honestly, I think the question of why the childfree have chosen NOT to have kids is far less interesting than the one that rarely gets asked: why parents choose TO have kids. I know there are benefits to having kids but there is nobody that can ever convince me that the benefits outweigh the costs. Not even close.
I loved this post! It's a question I get asked again and again and you are right, no answer will satisfy.
There are two main reasons why my husband and I don't have kids. First one being very simple. He doesn't want them.
Now the second and probably more complex one is, I can't have them. You would think that saying that would be enough, would invite some tact and let that be enough.
But no! I get asked why and then offered a number of solutions to whatever I answer... which usually ends in 'well have you thought about adoption?'.
Sometimes I find it amusing that someone is so intent on the workings of my body that they can find the magic way for me to produce a child. Other times it's painful and upsetting but that doesn't usually stop them.
So most of the time, unless it's someone I know well, we go with the simple answer and my husband is happy to be 'the bad guy' ;)
He's also my hero ;)
Dan - As always, you raise terrific points. I recently read an eminently fascinating article about whether it is "moral" (in a very purely philosophical sense) to have children, and the article leaned very heavily on the side that it is NOT. But the reasons are so highly intellectual and logic-based as to approach parody. Stand that up against the Biological Imperative of "I want a baby! Don't you want a baby??" and it's evident the sides aren't even on the same playing field. So it's pointless to participate.
Interesting parallel about the name-keeping. You're absolutely right about it being something you have to explain, justify, and even tout over and over and over. It's never done. I'm dipping my toe in this water right now as I begin to transition from "boyfriend" to "partner" as my preferred label for Chris, not so subtly indicating that "No, we don't have ANY plans to get married."
Patty - I am very familiar with that top 100! :) I agree that it seems most people ask the wrong question. It's incredibly ironic that childfree people so often get accused of being "selfish," but when you ask someone why they DO want children, the answer almost ALWAYS starts with "Because I want."
Grete - Your perspective is so unusual and bittersweet. Thank you for sharing such a personal insight about yourself. Both you and your husband are being very brave in the face of some really difficult cultural landmines. I will never understand why otherwise civilized people see such a personal choice (or non-choice as it were) as open season for completely inappropriate prying.
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