Toward a Childfree Identity
A friend, who has asked to remain anonymous for fear of leg-biting, poses a question about being childfree. It's a legitimate one that I have been asked before, but never seen answered. (And no, dear anonymous reader, I don't find the question offensive. I'm actually glad you asked.)
"I've been wondering why it's necessary to have the label. Why not . . . just not have kids?
"It just seems like childfree is along the lines of being hair-dye-free. If you don't like it, rock on, but since you're not giving up anything that you ever had before, I don't understand why it's different. Another example - applying the label of 'vegetarian' to yourself changes something. There are now things which you used to do but in keeping with that label, you're not supposed to do anymore. Does the act of applying the label of Childfree to yourself change anything? Because it seems that it doesn't . . . you just keep be-bopping along through life, the same as yesterday?"
I'm not a big fan of labels, really, but I make a distinction between labels that are thrust upon us by others, and labels that we, ourselves, choose to assume - and there are a lot of legitimate reasons to assume a label.
One reason is because it just fits better than other words.
When I first heard the word "childfree," I felt a thrill. At last, a word that described me. It is so much more accurate than "non-parent" or "childless," and, in fact, both of these are terms that "childfree" was coined to avoid.
"Non-parent" can apply to someone who doesn't have or want kids. It can also apply to someone who wants children and doesn't have them, someone who wants children and can't have them, or someone who has children but parents them badly. Childfree people do not want to be lumped in with those other people - especially the last, who could be said to be the childfree person's natural enemy.
"Childless" can apply to any of those groups as well, with special emphasis on the person who is having difficulty conceiving or carrying a child. The condition of being childless is not the same as the action of deliberately choosing to remain without children. Childless implies a lack, an empty space, and the childfree person experiences no such lack in life. I'd much rather folks save their sympathy for those who need and deserve it.
There's always "willfully childless" or "willfully barren," terms used by those who believe that a decision not to reproduce goes against nature's law or god's law. I confess, I actually like the term. Willfulness is a vital part of being childfree. People who are not willful don't usually have the guts to go against their biological and societal programming. But since "willful" does have negative connotations, and since the term is meant to be insulting, I don't feel "willfully childless" to be appropriate for anything but ironic use.
See, we wanted, needed, a word that carried no connotations of sorrow, no concealed cry for pity, no hidden barb or sting. "Childfree" is that word. It implies that we are genuinely happier without children, and that we have purposefully chosen to remain without children for the rest of our lives.
The idea that there are folks who don't want kids, ever, is one that blows the brain cells out of many narrow minds. These people in their disbelief often retreat into hackneyed clichés ("You'll change your mind someday, when you meet the right man."), dire predictions ("Accidents happen, you'll see!" "You're going to die alone with nobody to care for you!"), or outright insults ("You childfree people are just a bunch of stupid, lazy, immature cowards!"), not to mention absolute left-field irrelevancy ("If your mother thought that way, you wouldn't be here, and if everyone thought that way, the human race would die out! You were a child once, too!"). We are dismissed. We say "I am different," and the other person says "No, you just think you are, but really, you're just like us."
The only solution for this sort of nonsense is to form a group identity that cannot be ignored. We're naming ourselves as a way of making ourselves more visible, both to others and to one another.
So I return to the original question:
"Why not . . . just not have kids?"
Well, a lot of people do. Or rather, don't.
A lot of people somehow manage to never experience any of the bias against people without children, or they are not bothered by it, and they don't feel the need for a particular label. And that's fine, really.
But many of us do need it. It's validating.
Being childfree is not one action we do not take, but the sum of many we do take, often at great opposition and personal expense. We must fight to obtain birth control, sterilization, emergency contraception, and abortion, often without insurance. There is romantic sacrifice as well; because most folks do want kids, we are drawing from a narrower group of dating partners, and we run the constant risk that the person who said they were okay with our decision suddenly decides they can't deal. Childfree people must often fight to get the same benefits that people with children have. We are dismissed by coworkers, family, even doctors, when we state that we don't want children; we are treated as though we do not know our own minds. The very means to remain childfree are denied us, often, as when sterilization is refused. It's not easy to bear up under the weight of so much disapproval. If it were, more people would do it.
Having children isn't the easy way out, and I don't mean to imply that it is. It is backbreaking work, a huge commitment that dwarfs whatever effort I have had to expend to remain without children. But when one has children, at least one is not usually classified as an unnatural freak for it.
Nobody sane would tell a 30-year-old pregnant woman that she's too young to decide to be a mother, and that someday she will deeply regret having a child. Childfree 30-year-olds hear the opposite of that all the time. Becoming a parent is considered a fundamental right, but in some states a person who wishes to be sterilized must undergo psychological evaluation, and sometimes they must seek the permission of their spouse.
So it is a commitment we are constantly called upon to justify, explain, and defend, and it deserves respect.
All of which is another reason why it is important to me to identify as childfree. We "willfully childless" are all but invisible until we make it known that we are not just part of the crowd who hasn't had kids yet. And if we are invisible, we can be dismissed as crazy or wrong.
"It just seems like childfree is along the lines of being hair-dye-free. If you don't like it, rock on, but since you're not giving up anything that you ever had before, I don't understand why it's different."
But it is different. It is so much different. This isn't a politically and culturally weightless decision like deciding you will never own a dog, or wear blue jeans, or listen to bluegrass. It's more like . . . oh, I don't know . . . deciding to wear pirate clothes. Every day. For the rest of your life. You are giving something up: the perception other people have of you as being normal.
Let's face it: having kids is the default setting. It is normal for most people to have children. There are, in fact, pretty strong pressures to do so. Therefore, anyone who does not reproduce is percieved as abnormal. And anyone who bucks societal standards, whether that is by being gay or being an atheist or being childfree or whatever, is going to catch hell for it sooner or later. Announce your intention to never have children and suddenly you are weird, different, unnatural, other. You are suspect. Dangerous, maybe.
I have been verbally attacked for doing nothing more than politely stating that I do not want children. Others have endured much worse: constant harassment from family and coworkers, sometimes physical violence or outright sabotage to create pregnancy. Until you witness something like that firsthand, or hear a credible first-person account of it, it can be hard to understand the kind of opposition childfree folks can face.
"Another example - applying the label of Vegetarian to yourself changes something. There are now things which you used to do but in keeping with that label, you're not supposed to do anymore. Does the act of applying the label of Childfree to yourself change anything? Because it seems that it doesn't . . . you just keep be-bopping along through life, the same as yesterday?"
But really, by that token, why do gays or bisexuals have to use a label? Can't they just fuck whoever, without making such a big deal about it? It's not like the label changes anything.
(All y'all gay folks are laughing ruefully, aren't you? You've heard this one.)
See, it's not that simple. Not when the decision is one that provokes such knee-jerk hostility.
Think of it this way. Without the label "vegetarian," what is a person who refuses to eat meat? They're just a person with an odd preference. They may be annoying, self-righteous twats, they may be perfectly reasonable, cool people, but pretty much everyone understands that a refusal to eat a hamburger now and then isn't going to contribute to the fall of humankind.
Without the label "childfree," what is a person who refuses to have children? They are deviants from the natural course, they are defying god's law, they are a dangerous threat to society because they "refuse to contribute." They are poor human beings, selfish and immature, who reject the mantle of responsible adulthood in favor of frivolity. And they very well may hate parents and children unilaterally, which makes them a direct threat.
Refusing to have children is not a decision with a neutral moral value in the eyes of most of the world. It is a . . . a radical inaction. Ask any vegetarian, and they will probably tell you about being not just teased but harassed about their choice in food. How much stronger is the cultural urge to criticise the views of those who deviate from the norm in even more fundamental ways?
You might ask a gay person about that.
In fact, just try to imagine what gay people would be called if straight people were allowed to label them, but they were not allowed to label themselves. What would people say about gay folks if gay folks could not define themselves? Do you think it would be particularly flattering, or accurate?
I'm not saying being childfree is as hard as being gay, it truly is not, I'm just pointing out that it's usually in a group's best interests to pick their own adjective and define themselves in the way they feel is best.
We get called ugly things when we let others label us. That is why we all feel the need to describe ourselves, instead of letting others describe us. That is why labels applied to us are intrusive, hurtful. That is why labels we voluntarily assume are often meaningful points of pride.
By naming ourselves, we assume an identity, membership in a collective group, which helps to negate the perception of our lifestyle as a temporary phase that we will all eventually outgrow. By naming ourselves, we are sending the message that we are not alone, that there are others like us, that we must be dealt with on our own terms, and that we are not so strange, so few, that we can be dismissed because we have no collective identity.
We do. We are everywhere. And the only way to make people accept that our lifestyle is a valid and respectable choice is to stand up and be seen.
"I've been wondering why it's necessary to have the label. Why not . . . just not have kids?
"It just seems like childfree is along the lines of being hair-dye-free. If you don't like it, rock on, but since you're not giving up anything that you ever had before, I don't understand why it's different. Another example - applying the label of 'vegetarian' to yourself changes something. There are now things which you used to do but in keeping with that label, you're not supposed to do anymore. Does the act of applying the label of Childfree to yourself change anything? Because it seems that it doesn't . . . you just keep be-bopping along through life, the same as yesterday?"
I'm not a big fan of labels, really, but I make a distinction between labels that are thrust upon us by others, and labels that we, ourselves, choose to assume - and there are a lot of legitimate reasons to assume a label.
One reason is because it just fits better than other words.
When I first heard the word "childfree," I felt a thrill. At last, a word that described me. It is so much more accurate than "non-parent" or "childless," and, in fact, both of these are terms that "childfree" was coined to avoid.
"Non-parent" can apply to someone who doesn't have or want kids. It can also apply to someone who wants children and doesn't have them, someone who wants children and can't have them, or someone who has children but parents them badly. Childfree people do not want to be lumped in with those other people - especially the last, who could be said to be the childfree person's natural enemy.
"Childless" can apply to any of those groups as well, with special emphasis on the person who is having difficulty conceiving or carrying a child. The condition of being childless is not the same as the action of deliberately choosing to remain without children. Childless implies a lack, an empty space, and the childfree person experiences no such lack in life. I'd much rather folks save their sympathy for those who need and deserve it.
There's always "willfully childless" or "willfully barren," terms used by those who believe that a decision not to reproduce goes against nature's law or god's law. I confess, I actually like the term. Willfulness is a vital part of being childfree. People who are not willful don't usually have the guts to go against their biological and societal programming. But since "willful" does have negative connotations, and since the term is meant to be insulting, I don't feel "willfully childless" to be appropriate for anything but ironic use.
See, we wanted, needed, a word that carried no connotations of sorrow, no concealed cry for pity, no hidden barb or sting. "Childfree" is that word. It implies that we are genuinely happier without children, and that we have purposefully chosen to remain without children for the rest of our lives.
The idea that there are folks who don't want kids, ever, is one that blows the brain cells out of many narrow minds. These people in their disbelief often retreat into hackneyed clichés ("You'll change your mind someday, when you meet the right man."), dire predictions ("Accidents happen, you'll see!" "You're going to die alone with nobody to care for you!"), or outright insults ("You childfree people are just a bunch of stupid, lazy, immature cowards!"), not to mention absolute left-field irrelevancy ("If your mother thought that way, you wouldn't be here, and if everyone thought that way, the human race would die out! You were a child once, too!"). We are dismissed. We say "I am different," and the other person says "No, you just think you are, but really, you're just like us."
The only solution for this sort of nonsense is to form a group identity that cannot be ignored. We're naming ourselves as a way of making ourselves more visible, both to others and to one another.
So I return to the original question:
"Why not . . . just not have kids?"
Well, a lot of people do. Or rather, don't.
A lot of people somehow manage to never experience any of the bias against people without children, or they are not bothered by it, and they don't feel the need for a particular label. And that's fine, really.
But many of us do need it. It's validating.
Being childfree is not one action we do not take, but the sum of many we do take, often at great opposition and personal expense. We must fight to obtain birth control, sterilization, emergency contraception, and abortion, often without insurance. There is romantic sacrifice as well; because most folks do want kids, we are drawing from a narrower group of dating partners, and we run the constant risk that the person who said they were okay with our decision suddenly decides they can't deal. Childfree people must often fight to get the same benefits that people with children have. We are dismissed by coworkers, family, even doctors, when we state that we don't want children; we are treated as though we do not know our own minds. The very means to remain childfree are denied us, often, as when sterilization is refused. It's not easy to bear up under the weight of so much disapproval. If it were, more people would do it.
Having children isn't the easy way out, and I don't mean to imply that it is. It is backbreaking work, a huge commitment that dwarfs whatever effort I have had to expend to remain without children. But when one has children, at least one is not usually classified as an unnatural freak for it.
Nobody sane would tell a 30-year-old pregnant woman that she's too young to decide to be a mother, and that someday she will deeply regret having a child. Childfree 30-year-olds hear the opposite of that all the time. Becoming a parent is considered a fundamental right, but in some states a person who wishes to be sterilized must undergo psychological evaluation, and sometimes they must seek the permission of their spouse.
So it is a commitment we are constantly called upon to justify, explain, and defend, and it deserves respect.
All of which is another reason why it is important to me to identify as childfree. We "willfully childless" are all but invisible until we make it known that we are not just part of the crowd who hasn't had kids yet. And if we are invisible, we can be dismissed as crazy or wrong.
"It just seems like childfree is along the lines of being hair-dye-free. If you don't like it, rock on, but since you're not giving up anything that you ever had before, I don't understand why it's different."
But it is different. It is so much different. This isn't a politically and culturally weightless decision like deciding you will never own a dog, or wear blue jeans, or listen to bluegrass. It's more like . . . oh, I don't know . . . deciding to wear pirate clothes. Every day. For the rest of your life. You are giving something up: the perception other people have of you as being normal.
Let's face it: having kids is the default setting. It is normal for most people to have children. There are, in fact, pretty strong pressures to do so. Therefore, anyone who does not reproduce is percieved as abnormal. And anyone who bucks societal standards, whether that is by being gay or being an atheist or being childfree or whatever, is going to catch hell for it sooner or later. Announce your intention to never have children and suddenly you are weird, different, unnatural, other. You are suspect. Dangerous, maybe.
I have been verbally attacked for doing nothing more than politely stating that I do not want children. Others have endured much worse: constant harassment from family and coworkers, sometimes physical violence or outright sabotage to create pregnancy. Until you witness something like that firsthand, or hear a credible first-person account of it, it can be hard to understand the kind of opposition childfree folks can face.
"Another example - applying the label of Vegetarian to yourself changes something. There are now things which you used to do but in keeping with that label, you're not supposed to do anymore. Does the act of applying the label of Childfree to yourself change anything? Because it seems that it doesn't . . . you just keep be-bopping along through life, the same as yesterday?"
But really, by that token, why do gays or bisexuals have to use a label? Can't they just fuck whoever, without making such a big deal about it? It's not like the label changes anything.
(All y'all gay folks are laughing ruefully, aren't you? You've heard this one.)
See, it's not that simple. Not when the decision is one that provokes such knee-jerk hostility.
Think of it this way. Without the label "vegetarian," what is a person who refuses to eat meat? They're just a person with an odd preference. They may be annoying, self-righteous twats, they may be perfectly reasonable, cool people, but pretty much everyone understands that a refusal to eat a hamburger now and then isn't going to contribute to the fall of humankind.
Without the label "childfree," what is a person who refuses to have children? They are deviants from the natural course, they are defying god's law, they are a dangerous threat to society because they "refuse to contribute." They are poor human beings, selfish and immature, who reject the mantle of responsible adulthood in favor of frivolity. And they very well may hate parents and children unilaterally, which makes them a direct threat.
Refusing to have children is not a decision with a neutral moral value in the eyes of most of the world. It is a . . . a radical inaction. Ask any vegetarian, and they will probably tell you about being not just teased but harassed about their choice in food. How much stronger is the cultural urge to criticise the views of those who deviate from the norm in even more fundamental ways?
You might ask a gay person about that.
In fact, just try to imagine what gay people would be called if straight people were allowed to label them, but they were not allowed to label themselves. What would people say about gay folks if gay folks could not define themselves? Do you think it would be particularly flattering, or accurate?
I'm not saying being childfree is as hard as being gay, it truly is not, I'm just pointing out that it's usually in a group's best interests to pick their own adjective and define themselves in the way they feel is best.
We get called ugly things when we let others label us. That is why we all feel the need to describe ourselves, instead of letting others describe us. That is why labels applied to us are intrusive, hurtful. That is why labels we voluntarily assume are often meaningful points of pride.
By naming ourselves, we assume an identity, membership in a collective group, which helps to negate the perception of our lifestyle as a temporary phase that we will all eventually outgrow. By naming ourselves, we are sending the message that we are not alone, that there are others like us, that we must be dealt with on our own terms, and that we are not so strange, so few, that we can be dismissed because we have no collective identity.
We do. We are everywhere. And the only way to make people accept that our lifestyle is a valid and respectable choice is to stand up and be seen.