It takes a village to raise a child. This African proverb became even more popular in America after Hillary Rodham Clinton used part of it as the title of her…memoir? Book? Google tells me the latter and that it’s lessons we’ve learned form our childhood. In that case, the lessons I learned from my childhood was to never question the adults or show any kind of emotions because I was not allowed to have them. In addition, I was taught that I was a worthless human being except for when I was doing whatever my parents wanted me to do, usually for their benefits. Oh, also that I was fat and unfit for the human eye, and I would never get a man to marry me. Those were also lessons from my childhood. I’m not sure those are good lessons to learn!
Kids are a touchy subject as is the question of how to raise them. One thing I see in various forums is the battle between parents and people without children. The former is obviously the norm, whereas the latter is seen as the outlier.
As someone without children, I know better than to talk about kids in a negative way. I get confused, though, as to what I can and cannot say about them. The message I hear a lot is that you never ever tell someone else’s kid what to do or a parent how to raise their kid. But, at the same time, you’re supposed to cheerfully help out parents all you can.
Listen. These two things are in opposition to me. If I’m going to help out with someone’s children, then there are some ground rules I am going to set. When my niece was little, I had one rule–don’t break your head. She could repeat it when prompted, and it was the only thing that mattered because everything else could be fixed. When her brothers came along, I had to add new rules such as don’t break each other’s heads. I don’t think there is anything wrong with setting boundaries and limits when you are looking after said kids.
In addition, for whatever reason, I have been in several situations where kids like to kick the chair/seat/booth I’m sitting in. I don’t like it, obviously, and the parents never did anything to stop their kids from doing it. Once was at a baseball game. After ten minutes or so, I turned around and told the kid to knock it off. His parents didn’t say a word, but he cut it out. Second time, it was on a plane and I did the same thing. The third time was in a restaurant and, yes, I did the same thing.
I gave the parents enough time to take care of it, and none of them did. Then, I took care of it myself, and none of the parents backed me up. Thankfully, they did not say anything to me about it, either, though I was ready to push back on them if they wanted to get in my face.
Look.
I don’t like kids. I don’t dislike kids, but I’m not particularly gushy about them. To me, they are just small persons, and I don’t like people in general. I’m not going to be mean about it, but I prefer not too spend time with them. I have a hard enough time talking to adult people, let alone children, because of the way I think. It’s a minefield when I talk to adults because I have such a weird way of little at things. I have to hide a lot of myself, including the observations I make about other people. I’ve mentioned before that people in general don’t like being told about themselves. Things I notice without really trying sometimes slip out and freak people out.
On the other hand, it’s sometimes refreshing to talk to kids because they say what they think. I’m not on the spectrum, but I sometimes have difficulty telling when someone is being sarcastic, especially in writing.
It’s not ok to say you don’t like children, apparently. I’ve seen that sentiment get completely ripped apart. Some people even think it’s the same as saying something like , “I don’t like black people.” I can see why that is. Being a child is something that everyone has been and cannot really will yourself out of. Only time will change that factor. I tyr to explain that it’s not that I dislike or hate children, but that I don’t go gooey over them like other people do.
I acknowledge that it is a life-changing event. However, for most people, it’s something chose to do. I think they deserve all the support in the world because it’s a tough job. Especially during the pandemic with all the daycares shut down and the chaos that ensued.
But, and I want to say this as delicately as possible, not at the expense of people who don’t have children. When I used to work at the county, I didn’t mind working holidays because they are not important to me. But, being told that parents got priority because they had family irked me. I don’t get along with my family of origin, true, but what about the people who do and don’t have kids? Are they relegated to lesser status because they haven’t procreated?
This is something even very progressive parents automatically bristle at being gently told that the fact that they have progeny does not make them exempt from, say, maybe working on a holiday if it’s required.
I don’t talk about kids in general because I don’t have them and they are of no interest to me. I like specific children because of who they are in my life (my niece and nephew, for example, and my bestie’s teenager who just started college this year. Time goes so fast!), but I…just don’t care about them in general. I do not squeal in delight at the sight of a plump cheeked baby (though put an adorable kitten in front of me and look out!). I will be happy for anyone who gives birth to a child they want, of course, but it’s just….I never had that mythical biological clock that many woman talk about.
When I was little, I made my dolls have sex. I preferred stuffed animals, anyway. (Animals over people!) I never pretended a doll was a baby, and I did not have a single maternal bone in my body.
I’ve talked endlessly about how the realization that I didn’t have to have kids was life-changing. All the shit fell away, and what I had left was a diamond. Just because I was deemed a woman, it did not mean I had to spawn. The profound gratitude and relief I felt at that moment cannot be adequately described.
I truly felt as if I had been unshackled and set free. I wanted to shout from the mountaintops that I did not have to have children! And, as I have also said, I quickly learned not to say any of that to the women who asked if I had children/wanted them. At the time, I found one anthology about women who chose not to have kids. I was so excited to read it, but it was mostly essays by women who decided for genetic/personal history reasons and were devastated by it. They were quick to emphasize that they loved children and wanted to be good ‘aunts’ to the children in their lives, as if they would be failing their duty if they did not show how much they cared about children.
I was crushed. There was not one essay by a woman who was glad to not have children and who felt liberated by the choice not to have them. Granted, it was a quarter of a decade ago, but I haven’t seen it get much better. I’ve heard that women in their twenties now still get pressured to have children, which makes me ineffably sad.
I think one of the reasons I keep beating on the same drum when it comes to this issue is that I feel so alone in my way of thinking. But, also, I don’t want to join groups for ‘child-free’ people because that is still being defined in terms of having children or not.
I wish it were acceptable to say that I don’t like children without feeling the need to add a million qualifiers to the end of that statement.