This is a statement I have asserted with conviction frequently and without apology for the vast majority of my life.
I was particularly driven to quash societal gender norms as a child and teenager. At school I was a straight A student who was internally motivated to learn as much as I could about everything I could. Learning was a privilege and something I very much enjoyed. I could never understand why other children did not want to learn. I say learn, rather than be at school, because for the most part, I did not want to physically be at school either. But bullying is another topic for another day.
I represented my schools in national competitions for Mathematics, Science and English. I made the honour roll at multiple schools and completed some 11th grade work when I was 13. The level of mathematics I required in tenth grade exceeded that provided by my school and I had to complete distance education to satisfy the requirements of my intended pathway in years 11 and 12.
When I was forced to attend Home Economics due to the standard year 8 -10 curriculum, I protested loudly. I only wanted to do woodwork, metal work and music. I was not interested in being forced to learn cooking, sewing or any other skills predominantly promoted as female-centric. Apparently I had completely dismissed the fact that boys attended these classes too. Ironically, since realising that feminism is about equality and choice, not pushing your anti views onto others, I have discovered that I love both cooking and sewing, in now run my own small business making handmade items. Who knew you can stand up for your rights as a women and still enjoy what could be considered typical female activities. I turns out that 15 year olds don't know everything!
The egg I was tasked to take care of for a week, as though keeping an egg safe was tantamount to good parenting, was promptly smashed on the floor in front of the class in what I saw as a stand against an assumption that it is normal and necessary to have children, and that women without children are not normal. It was the single high school assignment I failed. And I was immensely proud of that failure.
Education was the single most important thing to me growing up. I rarely showed interest in boys until after I left school and I certainly had no desire to get married. At 22 I called off a short lived engagement with my first long term boyfriend. At 27 I made it clear to my then long term partner that I wasn't interested in marriage and not to ask me to avoid disappointment.
In fact, until I started dating my now husband a short time later, I was still vehemently against the idea of marriage. While part of this sentiment came from commitment issues that meant I had never wanted to be tied down to one person, it is more accurate to say that to me, marriage was giving up.
Giving up your aspirations. Giving up your freedom. Giving up your sense of self.
Despite being in my mid 20s, I was still tied to the fundamentally flawed notions that I had cultivated as a young person, that marriage is what women who don't have educations or career aspirations fall back on. A string of abusive and/or dysfunctional long-term relationships had not helped.
Of course, I feel differently now. But I only feel differently about my own personal set of circumstances. I would never say marriage is for everyone or that marriage makes you happy. It can make you happy if it is what you want in your life but it certainly doesn't guarantee it.
(Caveat: I've been married for 3 months, so I am certainly not an expert on married life).
Marriage was pretty much the domino that fell first in a series of life-long convictions that have been rocked since meeting my husband. When I feel a certain way about something, I tend to do it wholeheartedly. On a macro level, I don't care what other people's opinions of me are. However, when I realised I wanted to get married I was incredibly concerned with the "I told you so"s that would inevitably ensue, particularly among my extended family. When you have been as outspoken and determined on an issue for so long as I had, it is bound to come back to bite you when you change your mind.
And it did.
"We knew it would happen".
"Always knew you would come around".
"I told everyone you would change your mind".
Apparently my family knew something I didn't know when I was 26. That one of the guys I met at my new job, who I rarely spoke to or had any reason to speak to, would turn out some time down the track to be the single person who ticked off practically everything on my impossible to complete Minimum Marriage Material Requirements list.
The list was tangible (yes, I actually wrote this list down. I like writing lists) and purposefully unrealistic. For example, all of the following, in no specific order, were necessary:
- Be witty and able to make me laugh all the time
- Be a geek, not a jock
- Be physically attractive to me
- Have a university degree in a science related field - PhD preferable but Honours accepted
- Be smarter than me
- But can't be condescending to me
- But must also have an air of sophisticated arrogance
- But should be a considerate and kind person, who is mindful of the privileges they have
- Be creative (eg. play an instrument, paint, etc)
- Be from another country (preferably Ireland, followed by England)
- Be taller than me
- Be open-minded
- Rides horses
- Loves cats
- Similar political alignment and social policy views
- Not be a bogan
- Be career-driven and self-motivated
- Be good with money
- But not allow money to dictate life
- Not want children or (preferably) have been married and already have children
- Be extremely patient and able to handle with my flitty and variable nature, constant anxiety and intermittent depression
I had always said that if I met a magical man who could satisfy the entry requirements for marriage material, which based on my list was highly unlikely, I would consider it. In reality, I fell head over heels and wanted to get married immediately. It was an overwhelming feeling that defied one of my core beliefs about myself. I was the girl who was never getting married. I had never fantasised about it. I had not planned my dream wedding. I imagined being an old lady still doing my own thing.
I struggled to understand it and even now, I often say things like "I can't believe I got married".
Why did I get married?
I don't know. I have been trying to answer that question myself, unsuccessfully.
I still do not believe marriage provides eternal security. Both my husband and one of my ex's have been divorced; I know first hand that marriage isn't a relationship surety. I am also not religious, so I have no need to satisfy a moral code imposed by other people's beliefs.
Although I can't say why I wanted it, I can say what I told my husband when he asked the question of me. I can say that I am happy.
So having come to terms with getting married, I have now been flung head first into the "Should I have a baby" stage of life. A stage I never expected to be in. A stage I still, most often, I am strongly opposed to, clinging desperately to my long-held views of motherhood and associated loss of life and freedom.
My husband and I were still walking down the aisle when people started asking us when we were planning to have children. We aren't planning to have children, so it is an awkward question to respond to. And in any case, it is invariably met with the same confident predictions I heard when I proclaimed never to be getting married:
"It will happen".
"You will come around".
"Everybody knows you will change your mind".
"Everybody knows you will change your mind".
I am now 30 and I think many women of similar circumstances to me also find themselves in this situation. What is best for us? Are we selfish for not wanting to be responsible for another small human for the rest of our lives? Are we immature for wanting to go back to Paris and practice our French instead of change nappies and going out for coffee covered in baby vomit? Will we feel like we are missing out when all our family and friends are surrounded by their offspring and we just have our blurry selfies that we took with a giant polar bear while laughing drunkenly in the Amsterdam Ice Bar?
This is a journal of my of thoughts, feelings and opinions on whether or not I should have a child. I am a wildly swinging pendulum. I don't feel I have ever been at a yes as yet. At best I go from 0 (never) to 51 (maybe), on a 0-100 Likert-type scale.
I doubt I am the only 30 something considering this previously not up for debate topic and I hope this can be useful, entertaining or comforting to those who can relate.
