Going My Own Way
From the time I could read, I had always been a student of history. But the subject I would usually gravitate toward was war history. The great battles told in oversized books fascinated me and I wanted to know more about the causes of such conflicts, what kind of weapons were used, and who the victors and the vanquished were. Seeing that I had been the product of a war myself, I didn’t consider my interest in its manifestations to be morbid at all.
Eventually, as my mind matured and my conscience deepened, and I began to read more complex works, I frequently questioned myself and other people about how war reflects on the way we deal with other human beings and why we keep seeing the world and each other in black and white. These days the subject of war has become less and less abstract, yet my questions still remain unanswered. From my understanding of history and from my own observations, I’ve come to a sobering conclusion that war is humankind’s lasting inheritance.
With this in mind, I’ve objected to wanting a child who would become the victim of war, or even its perpetrator. The bombing of bloodlines and severing of family ties are the inevitable results of using our tools and education to gain an aggressive advantage over perceived enemies who threaten our national interests. Or, conversely, we use blind faith, superstition and age-old traditions to punish those we consider to be unbelievers or traitors to the group. We forget that furthering mutual friendship and repairing rifts between other human civilizations are worthwhile projects that benefit everyone. To me, having children is not a hopeful sign, it’s an act of domination. Coercion, aggression, or all-out violence permeates the air in every major region in the world, between nations, between communities and between individuals – individuals who were once proclaimed to be innocent babes and doted on for their cute looks and precocious antics. Children do not stay children forever.
Although being adopted was a fortuitous opportunity for me to live a life more positive, I have always subconsciously felt the slipping away of an alternative history in which I could have existed just as happily as I do now in the country of my birth. I think I’ve known all along that I would not look forward to re-telling any child of mine the same story, again and again, about how I was taken in by another family, handed a new name and told to go play outside as if nothing had happened. I especially would not want any child of mine to see his daddy kneeling at the edge of a gaping ditch, looking in vain for a family tree that had long been uprooted and turned to pulp.
My parents may be dead, but they are not dead to me; I’ve always known that in the back of my mind they are somehow talking in the background about me or reliving the moment when they wished they had, or had not, met in Vietnam, kissed in Vietnam, made love in Vietnam, and met their demise in Vietnam. Guiding my unwillingness to have children is that, as far as I’m concerned, I have no blood relatives in this world, none that I’m aware of. I don’t know what my parents specifically looked like, but every time I look in the mirror, I’m looking at both of them, for it is their genes that created me. And when they died, they took with them all the knowledge of their parents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, and grandparents – my blood relatives. Yes, these two people gave me life, but I was left with an empty plate for another set of parents to fill with their own histories, their own wedding pictures, and their own relatives, who bear no resemblance to me. Therefore, I don’t want to create an artificial branch and try grafting it onto a family tree that doesn’t belong to me.
So, as my birthparents did long ago, I will die leaving no trace. I have no desire to leave behind a living legacy I cannot control. I don’t need to see a part of myself in anyone else; I don’t need to validate my social worth by trying to raise a prodigal son or daughter. Any ambitions to make my mark on the world by siring an heir to my good name does not appeal to me. It is truly liberating to know that there is no shame in letting go, cutting all ties and drifting away.
I slipped into this world, and I will slip out of it.
Copyright . Published 1 June 2007 in Editorials.
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This was a very moving article…your reasons for being childfree are very compelling.
permalink — 4 June 2007, 06:55