Written by Jessica-May Cox
Illustrated by Sylvain Chan
There comes a time in every woman’s life where she must grapple with the ultimate conundrum: do I want to have kids? “Every” woman is definitely an exaggeration, but most conversations about children that I have with my girl friends often end similarly—we genuinely do not know if we want to have kids.
As a university student in Britain, I’m lucky enough to be able to choose whether I want children—a privilege many do not have. Yet that is what makes this topic all the more relevant: as women’s rights (hopefully) continue to expand, and we become more mired in the freedom of choice, I hope more of us are able to fully engage with this thought experiment.
So why would I want to have children? I think the main motivation, at least when I was a teenager, was that it was a faraway, normal milestone that everyone should aspire to. Even though this was definitely not my Chinese mother’s experience, she still drilled a roadmap into me from a young age: go to a good university, meet a (preferably rich) guy, marry and have kids. Great, easy! Well, my final year is coming to a close soon, and I’m in a long-term relationship with a very reasonable guy… and I care for this arbitrary milestone less than ever.
Admittedly, my main reason for this is that I am the one who has to deal with being pregnant and giving birth. This is what puts off most women in my generation; if we have the option of just not suffering one of the most painful things in human experience, why on earth would we go through with it? You have to spend one year (if you only have one child) of your fleeting life in constant discomfort and then, even with modern medicine, there may be irreversible consequences. On top of all this, how am I supposed to maintain the ideal female body that society wants me to keep? It’s quite unfair, I say.
I’ve heard a few parents comment that re-experiencing life’s wonders through their child’s eyes is irreplaceable. I can understand that sentiment, but it still doesn’t sit well with me. In an ideal world, surely you would have children for reasons less selfish than vicariously living your life through them? Perhaps those people who think wanting kids is the result of a natural drive are correct; it’s not necessarily a bad thing, and we are all just fumbling around for a more morally upstanding, profound cover-up. Except, we know that isn’t true.
The idea of a biologically intrinsic “maternal instinct” is empirically dubious, as it historically arose from a need to control women and push us into a traditional family structure. It doesn’t take extensive scientific literature to see this: for example, after deciding that women were inferior first, Aristotle attributed this to the fact that we, apparently, have fewer teeth than men. Despite being verifiably untrue, it represents how men have always started with a political standpoint, and then invented a fact about women’s bodies to justify it. If we believe that we should have children because of a “maternal instinct,” then we are slipping further back into patriarchy’s tiger-like grip.
This is why I approach any desire to have children cautiously, because I’m fully aware that I could just be cornering myself into a kitchen-shaped prison after slaving away at my day job. Even though women have achieved some degree of economic independence in the capitalist system, patriarchy’s exploitation persists at home. After all, besides breadwinning, we remain obligated to do most of the child-rearing and domestic labour on average, all for the sweet price of nothing. So to have children is to fall into the unfortunate trap of a foul, exploitative system. You can’t blame me for being absolutely terrified of this notion.
I appreciate that not having children so as to not uphold the patriarchal and capitalist system is a big jump, but we cannot just ignore the enduring link between the personal and political because it is uncomfortable or inconvenient. Yet it is also ridiculous to expect me to sacrifice a potential for increased happiness because of some esoteric desire to topple the capitalist system. Let’s be real: unless you become a world leader, we will only ever be able to affect our immediate surroundings. So let’s just take it one step at a time; I think we should focus less on gesturing at vague righteous notions, and more on what we can actually do.
My older sister, when she was contemplating having children, voiced a few poignant concerns which I agreed with at the time. Money was a major barrier at first; she had to work very hard for years to even get to a point where she felt her financial situation was stable enough for children. Even then, the average yearly child-rearing cost is over £12,000. And if you really want to provide more enriching opportunities for your child (music lessons, sports, holidays, etc.) then your life will be an unending, sisyphean nightmare of work. Having seen both my parents work two jobs just to afford my weekly dance lessons makes me think that, especially with the increasing cost of living that our generation faces, raising a child with limited financial resources is an unfair deal for both parties. This thought process seems rational on the surface: if you cannot afford to have kids, don’t have kids. But that sentiment is inevitably a classist one, even if we don’t intend for it to be. Considering that class is predominantly a structural issue, expecting lower class people to “be responsible” and abstain from having children is, quite frankly, a little eugenic.
However, another valiant concern my sister raised was: our planet is literally burning, and even our generation will suffer the disastrous consequences of this—so why would I want to bring a child into this world where there is nothing good for them? There’s also the problem that, no matter how hard we try, how many parenting books we read, how many generations we pass, we just cannot seem to get it right. Not to the inherent fault of any parent, but it’s impossible to raise a human who is not messed up in one way or another. If a child doesn’t consent to being born, why would I force them into such a miserable existence?
I now disagree with this extremely pessimistic view. If anything, it makes me consider if having children might actually be a good idea. It’s true, I didn’t ask to be born, I’m worried about the climate, and I’m far from a perfect person. But despite our chronic tendency to fall short, there is so much to be gained from the striving of perfection; it is core to the human race. To be alive is incredibly rare, worthy of treasure and awe: according to some funky calculation on the internet, the chances of you just being born as you are (and not involving all the socialisation piled on top that rounds you out as a person), is 400 trillion to one. As somebody who has struggles but absolutely loves being alive and experiencing things new and old, perhaps bringing another person into the world to forge their own path, to see what they can achieve, and to share in that happiness is reason enough.
