You see me yeah?! Nuh chil’ a gwarn sparn of mi loin. And for those of you who do not speak the beautifully nuanced language of patois like myself and Rihanna (no she’s not just making noises in Work) I said… No child is going to spawn of my here very loins.
I don’t want kids. No thank you. If my mother wants grandchildren she’s gonna have to bark up a different tree cause they just ain’t my portion.
Now, I’ll boldly preface this with a huge ‘never say never‘. That is a phase I most definitely live by, mind’s change, feeling’s waver, 23 year old
King may think very differently to a 30 year old King (I shudder at the thought.) I just want to put that out there, I know people change, because whenever I tell anyone I don’t want kids they are more than quick to let me know I may change my mind. I know. But nahh that ain’t finna happen (that was childish.)
Let’s start with my relationship to children. When I was a lot younger (I know that isn’t exactly long ago) I loved kids, far preferred them to adults or people my own age tbh. I was firmly of the mindset that kids were the light, they don’t have malice and are pure, whilst adults were just corrupt, agenda driven and evil (this very well may still stand). But as I’ve gotten older (and quite frankly, grumpier and miserable) the love of the mini humans has substantially dissipated (still not a fan of adults though). I’m not even sure when it happened but I kind of feel like I blinked and I lost my ability with kids. I went from being able to stop them from crying in a second to now holding them with bemusement at why they’re wriggling so much. That’s only the babies (my preference of the mini humans), once they start talking, especially talking back, we’re done. It sounds truly awful but I find the conversation of children in the age bracket of let’s say 3 to about 14 unbelievably nauseating and painful, I want nothing more than for it to stop.
But that is not at the core of my choice of not having kids. Realistically, I could easily grow out of that as I get older and return to enjoying spending time with them.
The nitty-gritty of why children are not my portion is because you have to sacrafice, and I just don’t think I’m about it. I’m talking real sacrifice, that whether or not your career goals have been achieved you gotta sacrifice (acknowledging that as a man choosing to have a family doesn’t greatly affect my career prospects as it would a woman, fuck the patriarchy). That, I don’t care how you feel today, fuck your depression, fuck your anxiety attack you gotta sacrifice. That until this mini human turns 18 (and far beyond, love you Mum & Dad) you gotta sacrifice. And I can honestly say that I just don’t want any part of it. I want to be 30 and 40-odd and go wherever I want, whenever I want, and do whatever I want without having to answering to or concern myself with anybody. That’s just the way I am, and the way I want to be. Not just for the next 5 years or so but for a considerable portion of my life.
The last thing I find factors in to my decisions around children is heteronormativity.
I honestly believe there are many people that think the same way I do about future sacrifice and in fact not wanting to do it but because our society drills it into our minds that at some point we are meant to have kids. We are meant to settle down, even if we take time out to pursue our passions there is always an underlying narrative that at some point we will get ‘serious about life’ and start a family. Well that narrative has only ever been fed to me through the prism of heterosexuality, of a man and a woman choosing to start a family (or being irresponsible). Well, from a very young age I’ve known that that was not my narrative, I’ve known that neither of those two people in that fairy tale future were painted in my image. I think what that has meant is that there is nothing nagging at me from the back of my brain, fighting my natural inclination to be selfish and live a life without sacrifice (in that respect) because I’m supposed ‘start’ a family.
Personally I think I had a lucky escape, we really need to stop feeding kids these unrealistic narratives that they feel they are required to live up to and abide by and have failed if they don’t achieve (but that can be a whole other post).
So yeah, no picni for me please.
*I would like it noted that if my sister or anybody who has a child that refers to me as uncle (or any other affectionate term) is reading this, your cherub/bundle of joy is obviously the exception to my rule.
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