Give me a friggin break.
The situation is this: Emily Yoffe, better known as Dear Prudence on Slate, received a letter from a happily married childfree-by-choice couple asking for advice on how to deal with pushy people who questioned their choices. Emily responded by telling them that they should reconsider their choice not to have children. She received a barrage of emails from childfree people who were understandably irritated at her suggestion that they just didn’t know what was good for them. A few of those people made disparaging comments about parenting. From that, Emily concludes that people are scornful of parenthood.
Hardly. Parenthood — especially motherhood — is fetishized like nothing else in this culture, to the point where imperfect mothers are routinely demonized. Not breastfeeding? You might as well stick a cigarette in the kid’s mouth. Teen parent? Your child is destined to be a criminal. Use daycare or hire a nanny? You self-centered careerist.
And don’t have kids? Well then you’re the epitome of selfish — if you’re female, that is.
The fetishization of motherhood is bad for those who have children and for those who don’t. It puts impossible expectations on mothers — that they should always be perfect parents, that they’re failures if their children don’t bring them eternal happiness, that any mistake will indelibly scare their offspring and turn them into axe murderers. And it requires that motherhood be an essential component of womanhood, placing any woman who is old enough to be a mother but isn’t in a category of other-ness. It leaves her open to questions, criticisms, and assumptions; it allows people like Emily to assume that they have the right to “suggest” that she reconsider her decisions.
People who choose not to have children are regularly referred to as “childless” — as if they’re missing something. They’re depicted as lonely spinsters, not people whose lives are entirely full and happy — if they’re depicted at all. Usually, anyone over the age of 35 is portrayed as married and a proud parent. So save me the cries of, “But they called me a breeder!”