It Takes A Village

Liberal Democrat Senator David Leyonhjelm has thanked Australia’s childless workers for paying more than our fair share of tax so that others can be compensated for reproducing. At face value, it’s a generous and utterly surprising view on the position of a mute minority.

In Australia, women without children are still looked on with suspicion. We’re bizarrely unfinished, incomplete, incapable, barren, lacking in some way – and that’s just the ones who can’t have children. 

Those of us who can have kids, yet have made a conscious choice not to, are infinitely worse. We’re deliberately eschewing our sacred duty to bear children. We’re selfish, greedy bitches or cold, conniving career women. We're denying our femininity and our purpose. And that’s exactly the criticism we need when we’re sitting alone in our ugly pyjamas, staring blankly at god-awful reality television, or working til midnight in appropriately sterile city offices. Take your pick of the various stereotypes. We've heard them all.

A little appreciation goes a long way. 

"To the childless people of Australia, I want to say, on behalf of this Parliament, thank you for being childless. 

"You work for more years and become more productive than the rest of Australia. You pay thousands and thousands of dollars more tax than other Australians. You get next to no welfare ...  

"But you pay when other people get pregnant, you pay when they give birth, you pay when they stay at home to look after their offspring ..." 

The Liberal Democrat said that he was sorry than instead of receiving thanks, Australians without children were "often ignored, pitied, considered strange, or even thought of as irresponsible". 

Senator Leyonhjelm’s startling speech earlier this week was only the second time I can recall hearing any politician even acknowledge the existence of childless adults. The first time was when Liberal Senator Bill Heffernan claimed that Julia Gillard was unqualified to be Prime Minister because she didn’t have children. The terminology was “deliberately barren.” Charming.

So here we are, with the sole Liberal Democrat Senator who appears to have some kind of sympathy regarding the financial burden placed on the childless. Introducing the video of his speech on Facebook, the Senator explained.

"This is my speech on childlessness; it's gone 'viral', as they say. I delivered it in the period leading up to passage of the government's 'No Jab No Pay' legislation.

In it, I point out just how much taxpayers' money parents of children receive, money they ought not expect. I go on to thank the childless, who pay more tax, receive less welfare, and worse, get no thanks for their generosity."

I sincerely appreciate the good Senator’s thoughtfulness. Actually, I appreciate that he thought about us at all. It's been all about "working families" and "Australian families" for so long, it's easy to forget that we exist.

Factually, he’s right. People without children do pay more tax because obviously, we don’t qualify for baby bonuses and tax benefits and various other small acts of government munificence. We don’t get family leave when the kids are sick, or performing in school choirs. We are expected to arrange our annual leave for outside school holidays so that people with “families” can take those times off. We’re asked to work those hated shifts on public holidays for the same reason.

And according to Senator Leyonjhelm, Australia owes a debt of thanks for the sacrifices we make. We share the twin burdens of watching others play with their bouncing bundles of joy (and dodging waves of relief that we don't have to deal with poo and tantrums) and we pay the parents to feed, clothe, house, educate and generally raise their little blessings.

I know quite a few child-free people, and never once have I heard anyone grizzle about the lopsided tax burden we carry. Some of us definitely whinge about working on Christmas Day yet others are quite content to pick up their well deserved penalty rates. Each to his own.

And while the pity party for the childless is in full voice, let’s not forget the crushingly familiar strains of every childless person’s favourite chorus: “Who’s going to take care of you when you’re old? You’ll be all alone!” 

This morning I attended a business meeting where over 80% of the attendees were stay-at-home-mums. Many had brought their younger children with them to the meeting and I was reminded of my decision to remain childless

Hey Senator Leyonhjelm! Remember all that extra tax we paid? All the sacrifices we made in favour of parents who needed to be with their children during illness, during triumph, during the milestones of a young life? All the public holidays we worked so "families" could be together? 

That’s the price we pay - all of us - for living in a society where, in theory at least, no-one is left behind.

I have paid my child-free, benefit-free taxes, and I haven't complained more than anyone else because in twenty or thirty or forty years, the children my peers have housed and clothed and fed and educated and loved and moulded into mature, caring adults – all with the help of my taxes - will be building the retirement villages and nursing homes where I’ll live. They’ll be the medical staff who trained for years to understand the mysterious workings of an aging body, and if necessary, they'll be the carers who'll bathe me and feed me and wipe up the drool and god knows what else. They’ll be the overpaid politicians making the decisions that effect my standard of living, and they'll be the teachers and parents of the next generation because life goes on, even if my genes don't. 

Senator Leyonhjelm has no children.

Revenge of the Atrophied Uterus

Anyone who has spent any time on Facebook or Twitter will know how quickly a conversation, a joke, an issue can explode into open hostilities. Social media is not for the faint hearted, as Brisbane Instagram model Essena O'Neill learned the hard way. Apparently it's too difficult to maintain the myth of perfection for hundreds of thousands of adoring followers.

I inhabit a different online world, where school friends, former co-workers and buddies from thirty-odd years of working, and various other friends and members of my extended family rub along fairly well together. They tolerate my predictable political and social outbursts, and I accept stories of their bizarre dietary preferences, endless photos of kids and pets and hobbies, and whatever else is important to them. I like most of these people, and I'm interested in their lives.

I've only ever blocked two people on Facebook. One is my ex; the other is a former school friend who went way too far in her public criticism of me. I took it personally because it was personal. The public spat came on the heels of months of bizarre and increasingly hurtful behaviour from her,including her unwelcome commentary on why my relationship had failed. I made a reasoned decision that her brand of toxic "friendship" was no longer welcome in my life. I don't regret the decision, although I wish it hadn't been necessary.

Yesterday, someone else, a complete stranger to me, was having her own social media crisis. The ABC had picked up on some research conducted in Perth,  about how childless and child free women are treated in a society which expects women to reproduce.

The ABC posted the question on their Facebook page, and being child-free and 50, I posted a listicle of things that have been said to me, or about me, as a result of being nullipara.

This is my reality, and the reality of many childless women.

Here are few things I've learned about myself, a childless woman, aged 50. 

1. I don't WANT children? There must be something wrong with me. Emotionally. ALL women want children.

2. I must be barren. Physically.

3. I'm probably gay.

4. I'm not a real woman. 

5. I have failed God by not having children.

6. I couldn't possibly understand how a mother feels.

7. I know nothing about anything to do with anyone under the age of 16. I never will.

8. I have no right to hold or express an opinion on anything to do with anyone under 16. These topics about which I may not hold an opinion include education, vaccination, baby massage, toys, after school care, the Family Budget, children's entertainment, the park, the pool, pets, normal Australian families on Struggle Street, stranger danger, food additives, nappy rash, Disney bandaids, tantrums and the universe.

9. I'll be lonely. I should've realised that.

10. I'll be sorry.

11. I have no patience.

12. I have no right to be tired.

13. I have no right to complain about anything. Ever.

14. I may not take leave from work during school holidays; those dates are reserved for parents who need the time off.

15. I'll have "women's problems" later on because my body hasn't been allowed to do what it was designed to do.

16. I suck.

Amidst a reasonable number of likes and comments and additions to my list, a stranger named Jessica added her two cents worth. Jessica is a mother of three, and her brief list of what she has learned makes for dull reading.

Was I supposed to laugh? Offer practical advice? Commiserate? Sympathise? 

Social media is about engagement, so I engaged. No sympathy here, though. I responded with neutral acknowledgment. I agreed that she needed a shower, and told her that I hadn't been to Europe either.

But Jessica thought my brief response was lacking.

In a sea of heartfelt agreement and good-hearted banter, Jessica unknowingly proved my point. Apparently her confession about Europe and personal hygiene were deeply important to her. My shallow quest for a cheap laugh had undermined her inner conflict. I was the living embodiment of ignorance and insensitivity. I am proof that people without children don't understand the important issues. We are just too smug with our sophisticated, smudge-free lives to care about her wretched existence. 

A rare moment of social media sanity erupted as I chose not to tell this Mother Superior to get some professional help - cleaner, babysitter, parenting expert, psychologist - or to check if she'd lost her sense of perspective in the toy box. I left it alone, and pondered the likelihood that the gulf between parents and non-parents might be too wide to cross after all.

Jessica had shared something of herself with me in telling me that she longed for a shower, and when I failed to respond appropriately, she labelled me as a tired stereotype, sarcastic and unaware. 

And while I've had enough of this special brand of discrimination, I resisted posting a caustic retort. The no-mans-land between motherhood and unfulfilled maternal potential doesn't need any more social media grenades.

Here's the response I didn't post on Facebook.

And this, Jessica, is exactly what most of us in this discussion are talking about: this assumed superiority that because you have a child or children, you are in a morally superior position to those who don't have children. You have assumed a divine right to put me down in public because you think I'm not a parent and therefore could not understand your malodorous torment.

By the way, if you don't think that childless women - and men - are hurt every time we are admonished or belittled or dismissed for failing to achieve our biological purpose, you need to reassess your people skills.

I wasn't planning on playing this stupid little game of "Who is worse off", but as you've waded in, I'll share some of my truth...because the list of common insults I posted above isn't enough. (You might want to put the children to bed and sit down with a glass of wine.)

My gut reaction to your comment is this: Don't you dare lecture me or anyone else on how tough your life is because you have children. Don't you dare even suggest that your self image, your relationship with your gender, is shattered because you need a shower. Unless you sincerely regret having children, and wish they were gone, just don't go there. 

Because the truth is that you *can* have a shower. In fact, you did. If you're ever that desperate again, you can call on friends or family or your partner or neighbours (yes, even the ignorant lesser beings without kids) to watch your little ones while you spend ten minutes alone in the bathroom.

But you see, I won't have a child. Ever. And while I've never wanted to be a mother, part of me wonders if you're right. I know that you've experienced things I can never experience, profound, emotional personal motherhood stuff that will never know. Maybe those experiences make you the 'real woman' I will never be. 

But none of that gives you the right to preach at me, or lecture me, or pity me or try to undermine my life.

And in any case, my grown-up life is none of your damned business. 

As for Europe, if that's really the pinnacle of your dreams, I feel sorry for your children. Do they factor in anywhere, or are they just small, inconvenient barriers that keep you from your  raison d'être.  I look forward to you telling your children how complete, how sated with life you feel, now that you've basked in the warmth of a Tuscan summer and and shivered within the solid bank of mist laying over a Scottish Loch. Will you embrace the Eiffel Tower when you get to Paris?

But don't mind me. I'll just be over here, sitting on the naughty step, wondering what gives you the right to make me feel like I failed at life.

Enjoy Europe, won't you, dear?