Resolutely Childfree
In the January 2009 issue of Unscripted, I wrote about my New Year’s Quasi-Resolution to be more upfront about my childfree status. Slightly over a year later, I’m proud to report that I’ve been more honest about my decision to not have a child. However, I’m actually more surprised that I haven’t had more opportunities to be honest about it.
On a few occasions at work or among social contacts, I have mentioned that I do not want children. It is generally something said in passing, since most of my co-workers and friends are well aware that I am childfree. Also, since their shock in initially hearing that I am childfree has long since worn off, any subsequent mention of it does not raise arguments, let alone eyebrows.
I am clearly becoming more comfortable in identifying myself as childfree. A few weeks ago, I attended a dinner event, and the subject of photo albums arose in the conversation. When I mentioned that I had no interest in photo albums, a fellow guest asked if I had children, to which I responded simply “no.” He then suggested that “when” I have children, I will probably enjoy documenting their lives in pictures. I responded, completely nonchalantly, “Oh, I don’t want children.” I may as well have asked him to pass the bread.
At the same time, I am learning that I must be cautious of the word “childfree” since so much of the non-childfree world fails to distinguish it from “childless.” Last weekend, I was talking with my next door neighbors who, from previous conversations, I knew wanted children but “not anytime soon.” They commented that all three of the households on our cul-de-sac were “childless.” I rang in, “Or childfree.” One of my neighbors, completely missing the meaning of what I had said, chimed back, “Yes, childfree!” I opted to reserve my lesson in semantics for a later date.
Although I’ve not shied away from correcting those who assume I will take the “traditional path” or the “road most traveled,” the truth is that the subject does not often arise. Outside of work, my friends and associates are people with whom I share common interest, and that common interest, of course, does not include raising children. When I interact with members of the community at government hearings and meetings, we are generally there to discuss an issue, and conversation rarely strays beyond matters involving the region. When I attend my political discussion group, the subjects of conversation usually center on the topic of the day, and if anyone mentions “children,” it is in a policy context, not in a personal one. At the humane society, we inquire as to how many cats and dogs we have—not how many children.
And yet I still find myself gritting my teeth and experiencing that same visceral feeling of anger that I felt when I remained silent. Though I have chosen to associate with people who accept my childfreedom and who share common interests, I cannot block the mainstream views of “traditional” life from my world completely. I hear those views on the evening news when politicians rave about how their bills will help “families” and when they attack the opposition’s policies for harming “families.” I hear them when a local news reporter announces that an electric rate increase will cause the “average family’s” bill to go up three dollars a month. I hear them when my insurance company mails me a brochure about its pre-natal benefits that I must pay for every month, though I will never use them.
Being honest with my friends, family, and acquaintances is one thing. Letting the world know that I, as a childfree woman, exist is quite another, and a monumental challenge I am not sure I have the time or the energy to take on. Perhaps, however, that is what my efforts in my personal relationships are doing—letting the world know about the childfree, one person at a time.
Copyright Julie Nisley. Published 7 May 2010 in Editorials.
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