It is an increasingly frustrating situation. When you were a teenager, there were still those who imagined a future as bohemians. As a 33 year old, you find the entire world in praise of the family. You find that everybody wants to be in their family cocoons, only mixing with people who are in similar cocoons. And you are supposed — it is assumed of you! — to want to create this kind of cocoon for yourself. There’s no place at all in this society for people who don’t want families. People like me are excused as defiant, immature individuals as 17 year olds. When we’re 33, we can no longer be allowed to exist. Everything in this society is geared for people who want to build families and live in families. You’re supposed to make money to sustain a family. It’s supposed to be the Meaning of Life. There’s no way you can go on with life as a social being without this desire for conventional family life. You’re a fucking pervert. Not wanting monogamy or taking care of used diapers makes you a low-life. You must be sick. You must be like this because you’re demented. You must be like this because you’re totally inferior; morally, psychologically, and so forth. You’re unfit for life. At least ‘healthy’ life.
I suppose it’s an undesired consequence of my occasionally writing about education — I should stop because apparently people cannot fathom I don’t give a shit about child-care or family life — but I get these comments from Mothers (who have found Meaning of Life in pushing out these divine Babies) who somehow seem to think they’re an authority and I should listen to them because they have procreated, and didn’t have just one child but… like 13. Or I don’t know. I’m sorry, but that kind of thing makes me want to puke. I have no respect for anyone’s opinions just because they had functional ovaries and a provider of sperm. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth. No, I’m not sorry. I’m resentful. I’ve had enough — not just on this blog — of missionaries spreading the gospel of eternal bliss of Babies. I’ve had enough to such a degree that just seeing a mother push a trolley makes me want to puke. Not because of the mother herself, but because human life is disgusting. I don’t understand it. It makes me sick over the fact that there’s no way to understand why people in general make these decisions; they’re incomprehensible to me. Why is everybody like that?
Thus, the blog aside, this is a constant terror in real life. If you don’t have a family, if you don’t want to get married, if you’re not looking for a partner to make children with, you’re constantly judged. It never ever stops. It is the assumption from when you are a kid that in the future you’ll imitate your parents and ‘get a family’. It’s the only way to get Meaning of Life. It’s like there cannot be any other idea of what makes life worthwhile. Only one. This hegemony creates nothing but misery. All our lives — from when we’re children ourselves — people who don’t want children are forced to have other people’s ideas about blissful procreation shoved down our throats. It never stops. I’m sure that when I’m 65, people will tell me I hate children because I wasn’t able to have any. The sentiment is the same as it always was, but the excuses for this kind of put downs will change. Of course, now that I’m over 30, I’m the only one who hasn’t given in. I’m the only one to maintain I want nothing to do with children. Perhaps I am really alone in it, or perhaps there are others who just don’t want to admit it. I don’t know. It’s possible I am this spectacular aberration of a human being.
Sure, some people don’t have children, for various reasons. But they’re still supposed to celebrate family life as the ultimate, meaningful pursuit. They’re supposed to admit that their life aren’t as full as those lives lived by parents. People like me are sick for not accepting this big ‘truth’; thus people who don’t have children generally pay lip-service to it, at the very least. I cannot respect it because to me it seems like a really big lie. I’m saying ‘people like me’ but I know of nobody else. It’s really just me. The rest say ‘oh, I didn’t have children, but it still is the superior way to live!’
And then people say, ‘but you cannot hate children, you were once a child yourself!’ — but it’s not something I can help, can I? I had to be a child, whether I wanted to or not (I didn’t, I hated being a child, and I hated other children). And they say, ‘but you’ll be lonely!’ — yes, I suppose I will, it is inevitable, I will be lonely. Everybody else is in families, and they want to be around families, not around adults who hate their children. I understand that. But it kind of makes me an outcast. It’s not anybody’s fault, but it’s the inevitable consequence. If my brother has a child, I won’t be a part of the (extended) family anymore; I’m incapable of coping with it. And everybody will resent me for it, because they will think that me being as old as I am, I ought to have reached a minimal level of maturity. A maturity which means accepting other people’s family life and children as a collective blessing. I cannot. Because I despise babies as much as I did when I was a child myself. I want nothing to do with the phenomenon. Ever. And people say, ‘but everybody loves their own children!’ — no, that’s not true. Moreover, that in itself — even if it were true — would never justify enduring the terrors of living in a family.
But I have nowhere to exist with these feelings. Nobody thinks they are for real, because a human being cannot possibly feel what I feel. It is (presumably) human nature to feel protective towards children and family life. I’m not natural, I’m a perversion. I sometimes think people have an easier time understanding paedophiles than understanding me.
I have this feeling I will never quite learn to live in this world. I wish it were different. It won’t be, though, because you cannot change other people and their desires. And I cannot change me.