Dysfunctional, deluded, selfish woman
And other things people say to women without children
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“How have you been, have you changed your mind on not having kids yet?”
This is how my (male, heterosexual, 26-year-old) physical therapist greets me for my second PT session. While I’m not completely surprised, I’m disappointed. And, uncomfortable.
Children often come up in conversation these days. I am smack dab in that super sweet though slightly overwhelming phase of life where everyone I know is becoming a parent, seemingly all at once. I spend weekends going to baby showers, scheduling first dates with my friend’s newborns, and trying to keep up regular playdates or FaceTime visits with my nieces and nephews. I love watching friends I’ve known for years become moms, and while I can’t relate from experience, I enjoy being a part of their parenting journeys and supporting them as best as I can.
I love all the kids in my life. They are adorable, hilarious, and fascinating. And I respect the hell out of their parents for all they do to raise and love them.
I just don’t want my own.
I never had that strong urge, the urge so many of my friends reported they could feel even well before they were ready to act on it. When I was younger, I always assumed I’d become a parent one day, because, well, that’s what you do. But as I entered my 20’s I started to notice I felt no real desire, in fact almost the opposite. This realization built slowly over time, until, while at brunch on a 5th date with my now-husband, I said it out loud. He agreed, we both smiled and laughed somewhat nervously in recognition, then set it aside. Good, we’re on the same page, I thought. Being able to speak my opinion out loud and be met with not pushback or incredulousness but acceptance helped me realize that really was how I felt. From that point on, I became more and more confident and secure in my plans, even though they went against the norm.
These warm and validating moments are far and few between when it comes to my stance on parenting, and I know that as a childless woman ~of a certain age~ I am not alone. In Women Without Kids, author Ruby Warrington discusses how our society views parenting, specifically mothering, as some biological imperative versus a personal choice. She describes what she calls “The Mommy Binary,” which splits mothers and non-mothers into two groups - “women who fulfill their duty,” and “sad, lonely, dysfunctional, deluded” women who will undoubtedly regret their choices.
Sound familiar?
I myself have heard plenty of these assumptions first hand, along with the classic label: “selfish.” As a sort of self-conscious deflection, I’ve found myself proactively claiming this label and joking “I’m too selfish” as a reason when explaining to others my decision to not have kids. Most days, I don’t actually think I’m selfish, or that I will regret my choice. But sometimes, it’s hard not to let the prevailing conversation get to me. Warrington also acknowledges this label in her book, which she originally was going to name “Selfish C*nt.” (Whoever downvoted that title, shame on you.)
As I progress through my 30’s and my biological clock is supposedly ticking, conversations have seemed to turn more and more toward my planned child-free future. And interestingly, the conversations are being initiated by other men, not other women or moms.
Despite the fact that I’ve been voicing my plans for a near decade, my father suddenly seemed to realize that I meant what I’d been saying. A few days after a recent and lovely visit from my parents, I was on the phone with my dad when he turned the conversation toward my child-rearing potential. “Are you really serious about not having kids? Why?,” he asked.
I proceeded to give my default explanations: it’s never been something I wanted, it’s a huge and forever commitment which I do not take lightly and wouldn’t want to create a tiny human who fully depends on me if my heart isn’t 120% in it because THAT would actually be selfish toward this tiny human, there’s other things in life I really want to do, I’m still growing, et cetera.
He responded with likely typical parental pushbacks of “it’s the best decision of my life,” and “you don’t know what you’re missing,” and “I was able to be a parent AND have all those other things you said you want, you CAN have it all!,” to which I put my head down on my desk, mumbled a few feeble counterpoints, and then changed the subject.
And you know what, he’s my dad, so maybe he gets to poke at my decisions a little. We’re family. He may never understand, and I’ll just have to accept that and not let it get to me.
But it’s not just family. It’s not even just friends! Back to the physical therapist I mentioned at the top of this post - in our initial session, he noticed my rings, asked about marriage, and then quickly followed by asking about children. “None,” I said, “not in our plans.”
I was met with an incredulous “what?!” followed by the predictable “why,” and “it’s the best thing that’s happened to me,” and again: “you don’t know what you’re missing.”
And neither do you, bro! I wanted to shout. Sheesh, in the same week, two different men had pressed me on my decisions about what to do with my uterus (and with like, the rest of my entire life). The conversation with the PT moved on, and he was generally friendly, but clearly this small part of our exchange stuck with him, hence the greeting at our second visit that I referenced at the top of this story. Did he really think he’d convinced me a week prior? Or just that it was a funny inside joke we’d formed in an hour of knowing each other? Neither explanation makes me feel better about the whole thing.
Later, I was chatting with another childless-by-choice friend, who told me that her male boss once repeatedly questioned her decision to not have kids, and asked her if it was a “political thing” given her past work at a well-known women’s health organization. Just…yikes, man, yikes. There’s a lot to unpack there but for the sake of time I’ll move on and restrain myself from analyzing why this person would assume that you must be a wacky leftist woman to dare withhold children from society. (Resist, Avery, resist…) It is worth noting however that this man spends most of his time working and has multiple full-time staff that help take care of his kids. Doesn’t really strike me as someone who can empathize with all the factors women consider when making a life-altering decision, but when has empathy ever been a prerequisite for sharing one’s unsolicited opinion??
Overall, it’s been interesting to reflect and notice that the people who seem most uncomfortable with or unable to wrap their minds around my and other’s decisions to not become mothers are straight men. While it’s quite possible that the women in my life feel similarly about my choices - I’m sure, for example, my mother would likely prefer I produce more grandchildren for her to dote over - if they feel this way, they’re keeping it to themselves. Maybe it’s because they understand the nuances and the never ending emotional, psychological, and physical commitment parenting requires of mothers in particular. They may know that this job, while rewarding, is not to be taken lightly. Maybe they just know it’s a very personal decision, and frankly none of their business what other women choose to do with their bodies and lives. Even my friends and family members who love being moms themselves seem to understand that this journey isn’t for everyone.
I am grateful to the women and people in life who respect my decisions and seem to trust that I know what’s best for me. I wonder if I will stop feeling the need to explain myself to those who don’t. Back to Women without Kids author Ruby Warrington, I was touched by something she said in a recent interview with the wonderful
about her own reasoning:“The decision to become a parent is one of the only decisions that you can't unmake, and so shouldn’t be entered into lightly. And for many people, myself included, although I wasn't necessarily conscious of it at the time, in deciding not to be a parent, I was automatically buying myself more time for my own inner work… If I had become a parent knowing how challenging parenthood would potentially be for me on an emotional, mental, or physical level, the person who would suffer most would be the child.”
While my goal is to spend less time explaining my decision, Warrington managed to put a lot of what I’m feeling into this quote, and I’m going to keep it in my back pocket. She doesn’t sound dysfunctional, deluded, or selfish to me.
Found your post through the Sunday Soother Slack and feel this in my bones. I knew when I was about 8 years old that I never wanted children now. I’m 40 now and don’t regret it for a moment!
My parents always respected my decision (or at least never pushed the issue), likely because I had two older brothers who both decided to procreate.
One of my brothers repeatedly told me “You’ll change your mind.” I can’t help but wonder how different the response would be if us child free by choice people said the same to people who were expecting or raving about their sticky, whining little mini-creations. We’d be thrown out of the house and unwelcome at gatherings.
And yet, they somehow feel empowered saying wholly unnecessary and uninvited commentary on our choices. I often suspect this incredulousness stems from their realization that having children never had to be a foregone conclusion to their life’s path. They just never took the time to consider any other option. How sad.
There’s a folder on my phone that’s filled with screenshots of content created by women who are child-free by choice. Being child-free by choice is a very lonely journey, but not for the reason that people with children think it is.
I wonder when the mere lack of desire to want children became my stance against having children. Perhaps it had to, the moment I decided to participate in the inherently misogynistic institution that is a heteronormative marriage, and the audience to that union began to view me as nothing but a means to an end, a replaceable, dispensable, childbearing instrument.
Like you, I have never once felt like I have wanted children of my own. I allow myself to change my mind, but I am now 34, and not for a moment have I felt differently. The inequity in the division of childcare labour is reason enough for me to not want children, but why do I feel the need to cite my reasons? I’m phrasing this as politically correctly as I can, but I don’t like children. I’m glad that I can live in a space that’s free from the raucous, sharp cries of children. And what kind of woman does that make me?
I have long been documenting my experience about the choice to remain child-free. The comments section reassures that there are so many child-free women (and couples) who could empower each other with their stories. And I am so glad that you have written about this most intrepidly and compassionately.