okay, i donât hate kids. i think theyâre sort of funny. i like that you can talk to them like an adult and theyâll make sounds like they understand. i taught one kid âphosphorescenceâ and he looked at me and said, âthey could just call it glowing if it means something that glows.â the kid undid the entire science community in one sentence.
but i hate kids.
or really, i hate how theyâve always been expected from me.
when i was five i was given âbabies.â i hated the hardness of dolls, disposed of them for dramatic stories between stuffed animals. i knew how to wrap, feed, and care for a baby before i could spell my last name. when i was nine i was already âwatching the kidsâ. i was only four years older than my cousins were. i wanted to go out and play. instead i was expected to have responsibility. by the time i was thirteen all of my friends had told me about how many children they were going to have in their twenties.Â
my hips were âchild-bearingâ hips. my brother was a scientist, or a fireman, or a steamroller. i was going to make a good housewife, or mom, or nanny, or mom, or mom, or mom.
and when my body hurt, i was told it wasnât really my body, not really, it belonged to my future children. i couldnât cut or snip or tie anything; i was trapped by the potential energy that hung above me. a boulder, threatening. i couldnât get tattoos, because what would i tell my children? i couldnât kiss a girl, because what would i tell the children? i couldnât be risky or wild or anything but a lady, because what about the children?
and when i said âi donât want childrenâ - not biologically, at least, not when cancer and depression and a whole other host of terrible things lives inside me - do you know what they said? âitâll change, wait and seeâ âitâs not badâ âyouâll get used to itâ âwhen you meet the right manâ âyou donât want to be lonelyâ.
i donât hate kids. iâm great with them.Â
but then iâm told again that my life will be forfeit to them - something in me snaps angry. âwait until you have kidsâ âyou should travel before you have childrenâ âyouâll be more happy.âÂ
i hate kids! iâve snarled. i donât mean it at all. but god. please, leave me alone. i donât want to be a biological mom.Â
itâs like weâre born with a uterus and told âthis is your whole life. your singular purpose. your job.âÂ
i want to be my own purpose. not here for the sake of passing genes on.
This sums up everything Iâve ever felt about societal expectation of motherhood.
This is why, when I mention I donât have kids, that I also mention I donât want them, never have, and itâs okay. I can tell sometimes others are bothered. I make it a light mention, if I can. I talk about how sometimes I think peopleâI like to say people instead of women because itâs an easier thing for people to listen to- have kids too young, too unprepared, or maybe they shouldnât have at all. Maybe, I say, they shouldnât be pressured from a young age to think they have to have kids. There are kids in your family, or family of choice to see and teach if you arenât sure in the meantime. But the mere fact that I bring it up while Iâm smiling and easygoingâŚoooh people glare and hunch their shoulders because they donât like it but arenât sure why. So hey. You donât have to have kids. If youâre not sure, wait. Teach or babysit your friendsâ kids first. Google how hard it is. Be sure. If youâre notâŚif you canât tellâŚdonât. Itâs ok to not want to have kids. You donât have to explain why. Even to yourself. Itâs ok.
THANK YOU OP. This is everything i feel and then some. Iâm saving this so i can show it to the next wanker that says: âTick tock, youâre nearly 40.â
