I Don’t Want Kids, But I Do Want You To Stop Asking Me Why I Don’t Have Kids
Apparently, I’m a do nothin’ bitch because I’m pushing 35 and haven’t fulfilled my womanly obligation to have kids. That’s right, I have zero desire to populate the earth, and it seems at least 68% of the people I know have an issue with this. Sadly, a portion of this demographic includes individuals who share my bloodline. I’m convinced at one point or another some of my kinfolk have believed that I’m a lesbian (nttawwt), and I’m pretty sure someone referred to me as “spinster”-adjacent once.
That said, I often feel compelled to make snarky rebuttals to those who attempt to belittle my personal choices because, well, my vagina. I couldn’t care less about them thinking I’m bitter.
“Oh, why don’t you want to have children??”
“Because I don’t want them continuing to live with me 27 years later like yours do.”
But I realize voicing these thoughts might embarrass the life-force out of someone, so I hold my tongue.
Don’t’ get me wrong, I have eight — yes, eight — godkids, and I love them like Olivia Pope loves White men with four-letter first names. But I want to be able to give them back. Cause ain’t nobody payin’ all that damn college tuition. By my estimation, it takes a minimum of a million dollars to raise a single child, and frankly, I have lavish habits that I need to support. And none of them require feeding and watering a living being for 18 years.
Real shit, I think more people in my predicament should be rewarded. But honestly, when’s the last time that happened to someone single with no kids? When’s the last time the government rewarded you with free groceries for being single? You think I’ve ever been gifted a pair of Manolos or even a pizza for paying my rent the first of the month while paying taxes to support other people’s children at the same damn time? Nah, bruh. Nah.
Seriously though, this is a deeply personal question, and the reasons the inquiring individual has settled on in their evidently non-critically thinking mind could be all the wrong ones. Women are not always out here waiting on Prince Charming to create a scenario where we’re barefoot and pregnant. Sometimes we have fertility issues or deeper internal struggles as to why kids are off the table for us. Other times, we merely have no interest. Regardless, a woman’s plans for her reproductive organs are nobody’s fucking business but her own.
Let’s focus on the fact that voluntarily childless women are free to do all types of amazing shit. Like travel unencumbered, have sex that’s not prescheduled, and own a house full of white furniture and white walls. And then make travel plans while having sex on our white futons. Because let’s be real here. Being party to having a child means worry until one of you dies. Trust me, I know these things. My mother still asks me stuff like, “Does that taser I gave you work?” …Well, shit, I haven’t had to use it, mom, but I certainly hope so.