My body, my choice
by Sophia Terry
I have never been one of the girls who dreamed of having children. In class, when we discussed where we saw ourselves in ten years, my friends described their husbands and future children, while I confidently declared (to everyone’s horror) that I had no intention of having children.
The assumption that women are all born to be mothers is so ingrained in our society and is a conversation that should be included in the fight for reproductive rights.
Reproductive justice is a topical issue in the 21st century, and what the rest of the population is discovering, is that women want to choose what they do with their bodies. A shocking revelation, I know. What’s more shocking, is that teenage girls are not included in this equation. We are still slut-shamed, called “prudes,” shamed for wanting to be housewives or mothers. And if you want to remain childless it is because something is wrong with you.
One of my most memorable experiences of the latter is a conversation I had with my uncle. It was more so of a speech directed to me. When he found out that I had no interest in becoming a mother, he was appalled. He then continued to give me a speech on how one day I’ll find a man and “beg” to have his babies.
This interaction was terrifying for multiple reasons. Firstly, I was given no space to explain my point of view, let alone get a single word in edgewise.
Secondly, of all the words, my uncle chose the word “beg” to describe the decision to have kids. “Beg,” implying that the man I want to have children with doesn’t feel the same way. It also implies that women get pregnant to somehow trap men.
The remark is attached with the implicit message that girls are waiting to be picked by a guy, that any woman’s greatest accomplishment is having kids. An implication that is even more demeaning when you take into account that the ability to bear children is something that comes naturally, not a talent or skill that can be enhanced.
It also explains the fascination in media and advertising of young women — that when they are past their prime childbearing age they are invisible to society. The message is clear: your value is your ability to attract men and bear children.
It isn’t just white, cisgender males that voice displeasure with my declaration to not have kids. I’ve had friends, other teenage girls, who don’t respect my decision either.
In one interaction, a friend said to me, “That’s good that you know what you want, but we’re still young and you shouldn’t be making that decision.” A fair point in theory, but when it’s taken into context that she is dead set on becoming a mother, that fair point becomes wildly hypocritical.
When I pointed this out to her, she was quick to explain that becoming a mother is different, because it’s “necessary” that we are biologically programmed to have kids. In that statement, I realized that everything she said was something that she heard, words from those around her that with repetition, became ingrained in her mind.
There is not much I can do to change other people’s opinions on this topic, nor is there much others can do to change my opinion. However, a good start would be to start teaching young girls that they have ownership of their body, as well as depict a vast array of women in media who have different experiences than the basic ‘go to college, meet a man, get married, have kids.’ Older women who are childless can help support and inform younger women making a similar choice.
As long as society continues to recognize bodily-autonomy and ownership, there is a future where women and girls can be more comfortable and confident with themselves.
