Confronting the Bitter Criticisms Faced by Childless Women

These are not truths — just shallow biases

I’m 44 and I don’t have children. If you do have children, you might not realize that the conversations I have with other adults are probably very different than the conversations you have with other adults.

I can say that there is a huge amount of people who do not know how to react to a woman of a certain age without children.

Sometimes, they seem confused. They don’t seem to know what to say and often feel the need to alert me that my childless status has made a hopeless future imminent.

Then there’s the judgment (which I’m sure a lot of mothers experience, as well).

And finally, there’s the plain old cruelty — people who insist I’ve done something wrong, like the guy who sent me a tweet a few months ago saying that women like me (without children) were no better than people who cheat on their taxes.

I’ve heard it all. And I’m always eager to confront this nonsense. Because even if I do become a late-in-life mother, there are a lot of women out there just like me — and many who made a conscious choice not to become mothers — and our stories and choices are just as valuable as any other woman.

Who will take care of you when you are older?

Folks, this is messed up. First of all, did you have children so someone would take care of you when you’re older? And if so, is that an appropriate reason to bring life into this world?

Second, let’s not even pretend that we have any control over what happens in the future. I know far too many parents who lost a child either in youth or adulthood. It is a horror that seems against the laws of nature, but it happens.

And don’t forget the fact that our children will someday have children of their own, lives of their own, and might not be able to add caretaking to that list. My father has six children and for the past three years has had to rely almost exclusively on only one of us (me) because my siblings are busy with their own lives, live out of the area, or are currently estranged from him. That’s right: shit happens, despite our best plans.

And last, why would anyone want to gaslight another person in this way? Do you want to know a secret? I’m fucking terrified of dying alone on my bathroom floor someday (hopefully 50 years from now). I’m single and I have no children and the past several years have been very hard and very lonely. I realize I am not entitled to a life partner and I might never become a mother, so if this is it for me…you can imagine I’m already future-tripping about the struggles to come.

Do you really think it’s kind to throw gas on that flame? Why wouldn’t you choose to applaud my strength and independence, instead, or throw a little comfort my way?

You are using up resources and giving nothing back

Here’s a newsflash: You and your 2.5 children are using up far more resources than I am.

Further, this implies that the only moral duty a human being has is to procreate. I’d suggest, with respect, that this is ridiculous. Does that mean people who are struggling with infertility should be…well, to put it delicately, “removed from the world,” because they are “taking up precious resources” and biologically cannot “make up” for that by raising offspring?

Emma Olif, a board member of Population Matters says,

“People have got very narrow-minded about what it means to be meaningful as a person. We have so much opportunity these days to do important things and be pregnant with more than children. We can be pregnant with ideas and dreams and revolution.”

Having children should not be treated as a moral obligation.

You are failing to fulfill your purpose as a human being

Take a moment and think about this one. Do you know what a human being’s purpose is? If you say “yes” to that, I’d remind you that the greatest philosophers and spiritual leaders who ever stepped foot on this earth struggled to define the purpose of human life or the meaning of our existence. Go ahead — google Nietzsche, Socrates, Aristotle, Jesus, Buddha. Tell me how many of them defined a human being’s purpose as bearing children.

Granted, they were all men, and as such, their lives weren’t directed by the gravitational pull of their fertility cycles in the way women are.

And sure, you can argue that this notion is a biological — not a philosophical or spiritual — imperative. But the context of the time in which we are living must be taken into account. There are a lot of biological impulses and compulsions within us that are no longer appropriate in our domesticated (and overpopulated) world.

There are over 9 billion people on this now-vulnerable planet. We do not need to continue adding to that or even replacing who is already here. That is no longer a necessity for human survival.

And since I feel comfortable that my purpose in life is not to produce offspring, I have chosen other purposes — namely, to leave this world in a better state than the one in which I found it.

You don’t know real love until you have a child of your own

I have a theory: No human being really and truly understands the meaning and depth of actual, real, unconditional love. We try our best, but love is an advanced-level course in spirituality.

I have no doubt that the love a parent has for their child is very, very special, deep, and indescribable. But you know what? It’s not the only kind of love there is and certainly isn’t the only kind of real love there is.

Love between lovers is true and real and beautiful. The love a daughter has for her mother is true and real and beautiful. Or the love between siblings. Or the love between close friends. Or the love between an aunt and her beloved nieces and nephews. Or the love between a dog and his human companion.

I could go on, but you get the picture.

Our culture’s propensity to inflate a mother’s love to an otherworldly experience while simultaneously negating all other kinds of love is an illustration of how rampant pronatalist propaganda is. This stuff runs deep.

The truth is, we are all here in Earth School learning about what love is, what it looks like, and how we can better demonstrate it. None of us is an expert and we will die mere amateurs. Our parental status will have absolutely no bearing on this.

So before you spout your parental wisdom to the poor souls who couldn’t, didn’t have children, or who decided not to become parents, take a moment to think about what you’re really saying. Are you adding to the conversation? Or dumping hurtful biases and unnecessary criticisms onto people who don’t deserve it — people whose life choices and circumstances are none of your business?

What if, instead, you opened up a dialogue? Asked questions? Decided to learn more about a lifestyle that is different than yours?

Imagine what a great example that would set for your kids — particularly your daughters.

And wouldn’t it be nice to live in a world that recognizes the worth and validity of all women’s lives?

© Yael Wolfe 2020

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