Is a No Kidding life a radical one?

The Gateway Women Fireside Chat that I mentioned last week discussed the idea that those of us who are ageing without children are "radical old women." Apart from the fact that I really don’t feel like an old woman and I’m not ready for that term (despite being older than some on the panel!), I agreed with a lot of the opinions given in the discussion. They reiterated the key points that almost all childless-not-by-choice and many childfree women talk about when we get together. It's always worth repeating! But I came away with two thoughts that weren’t really represented.

The first is that I object to being labelled (by society, by anyone) as radical just for living my life. Sure, I don’t have children, but that's only a small part of what makes me who I am. This idea makes me bristle. I object to the idea that just because we differ in only one way – the fact that we haven’t reproduced or parented – we must be seen as radical. I know many No Kidding women (and men) who are the very opposite of radical. They live normal lives – they go to work or school, love their friends and their (extended) families, strive to be better, look after their homes and neighbours, and care about the world. They want to be accepted and recognised and seen, and considered to be an important part of society and their communities. Surely there is nothing particularly radical about that?

Of course, it comes down to the definition, and there are many definitions of “radical,” as pointed out in the panel discussion. There is the “extremist” definition, the one that automatically comes to mind when I first hear the term “radical.” To be radical means “believing or expressing the belief that there should be great or extreme social or political change.” (Cambridge dictionary) A radical holds very different views, opposing the status quo (as opposed to just differing from it), and speaking out about it. By definition, a radical view is or can be seen to be threatening to the existing dominant societal structure. I find it terribly sad that simply wanting to be accepted for being who we are is seen as threatening by those living different lives. I’m not a conformist, and never have been. I’ve certainly never understood why living life differently should be in any way seen as particularly "radical." But I don’t feel like an extremist or particularly militant either. I’m just someone who puts an alternative viewpoint – a viewpoint many people have never considered – out there, and who wants society to see us and accept us. Is that radical? It doesn't feel like it.

The second issue was the question Jody posed, “what do we want to do with our ‘radical’?”

I thought of all of our blogs, the articles we have contributed to or commented on, the social media posts we make or comment on, the art some of us make, and all the other things that we do to put the point of view of people who are childless not by choice, or who are simply living No Kidding lives. We’re already doing a lot!

Then I thought of my neglected Instagram account (@nokiddinginnz), the book I’ve written but never published, all the time I don’t contribute to other online groups (like Gateway Women), and felt guilty. Am I not doing enough with my ‘radical’? I think it is terribly important that we speak up. I think it is terribly important that people remember there are women and men out there who wanted children, but who couldn’t have them for whatever reason. And I think it is terribly important that people are reminded that any of us who don’t have children are still equally important members of society, with valid opinions, lives, and contributions to society. So I am forever grateful for those who do so, who represent us in public. I play a small part, I’ve definitely gone beyond my comfort zone, whether here on my blog when I’ve very nervously pressed “Publish,” in private conversations when I’ve made myself vulnerable by tentatively countered someone’s mainstream opinion, or by very nervously commenting under my real name in articles in national media outlets. My part might not be as big as Jody’s or Pamela’s, but it is still important, as is that of all my readers and fellow bloggers. And I'm going to keep doing it, as long as I have an audience.

But speaking up is not obligatory. Just as we don't have to find our "Next Big Thing" when we don't have children, we don't have to become spokespeople for the childless not by choice. I know that speaking up isn’t for everyone. Some of us feel much more vulnerable about exposing our sadness or perceived failures to the world, and many of us fear judgement. Some of us are uncomfortable with speaking up – so many of us have been taught that it is rude to disagree, for example, when it is really courageous. I’m personally uncomfortable with confrontation, and don’t particularly enjoy arguments, although I know others who thrive on debate. (I do like being able to put my point of view, or make someone think, by a well-placed comment or question, but it can take a toll.) It made me think. Why should any of us feel compelled to do anything with our radical? It can be hard enough just living our radical lives day-to-day, navigating this pronatalist world as people without children, let alone dealing with all the other stresses of life.

Then I came full circle. Maybe that’s the whole point of being “Radical Old Women?” The second definition of radical is as fundamental, “relating to or characteristic of the basic or inherent constitution of a person or thing” (Collins Dictionary). It brings everything back to basics. And the basis of being a woman is, in fact, simply being, whether or not we have children. Ditto, the basis of being a man is simply being. The basis of being a human is simply being a human. And we all do that. We show there is value in our being just who we are. I guess that is radical in both meanings of the word. 

Just living our lives – with meaning and kindness and happiness and love – is enough of an example to others that society is varied, and that variation is valuable to us all. Life isn’t a one-size fits all proposition. How boring would societies and communities be if we were all the same? Embracing our existence, our No Kidding lives, is, after all, a radical act we didn’t think we were capable of at one stage in our lives. Wherever, and however, we live, we are here, and we are not going away. We are living, breathing, feeling role models. Maybe that’s radical enough for us all?

 

 

 

Ageing without Children (Again)

Last weekend, the 2022 Childless Collective Summit was held. I looked at the topics, and there was only one talk that I really wanted to see. One out of forty! A lot of it focused on infertility, grief, and learning to cope with and embrace your childless life. As that's what I've been writing about for over a decade here, and reading about for longer, I didn't feel the need to watch all the talks, though I am very glad that they were there for others who need them. I don't know if they're still available - though I think you can still sign up for the longer term membership that gives you access to all of the discussions.

The talk I did want to see was - surprise surprise! - Jody Day's discussion about Embracing Childless Elderhood. As any of my readers know, it is a subject I have paid some attention to over the years. In case you can't access it online, I will pull out a few of the key issues (for me) from the talk.

Jody is increasingly focus on ageing without children, and the issues around it, as she (like me) approaches the birthday with a zero with a big six in the front! I of course was hooked when she started talking about language, and in particular the language around older women, noting that the only positive word for such women is grandmother. All other words have negative connotations - I referenced just last week my dislike of the word crone. Hence her use of "elderwomen," which I am coming to like. 

She talked about the wisdom that starts coming with age. Though sometimes I wonder if it is solely with age, and if perhaps the wisdom we notice is because we have been through traumatic events or experiences, and having to readjust to the idea of a life that was not the one we expected encourages us to think more deeply, to reflect on our lives past and future, and to rethink our priorities. That wisdom, if I may be so bold, is invaluable, and sometimes puts us ahead of others who haven't been through these things. And she mentioned the fact that without children, we don't have any obvious recipients for sharing that wisdom. And that might be another loss. I think that's why I blog. I can put it all out here, and hope that someone gets something from it. As I've said many times before, I do not think we have to have children to leave a legacy, but do it in many other ways. 

Jody talked about the five myths she has identified about growing older without children. I didn't manage to take note of them all, though I doubt that any of my readers will be surprised by any of them. Issues like legacy (which I have covered several times here), like support networks, like loneliness, or the "Golden Girls" myth, which made me laugh, because I have single, parent friends who talk about doing this with their other single parent friends. (My husband and I were not included, even though I jokingly suggested he could be our "handyman" if we joined their group. Sigh.) In relation to this, Jody asked, "what happens if your friend gets dementia?" This is an excellent point, but one which most people don't think about. It reminded me of talking with a woman whose friends had built "their last house" in a nearby country town. "Does it have steps or stairs?" I asked. "Because if not, it's probably not their last house." She had never even thought about this.

Much of the discussion talked about support networks and socialising with other generations. I found this part of it quite depressing. I know I've talked about support networks before, and I know I need to extend my friend/acquaintance network. But I found myself a bit depressed by this discussion, for two reasons. The first was the reminder that society largely relies on the unpaid labour of women in caring for the elderly. My elder sister and I did most things for my mother, as her dementia deteriorated. Even though the state provided daily "check" visits, some cleaning, and weekly supermarket shopping trips, once my mother was no longer able to drive. It was similar with my father-in-law. We saw both the wonderful value of this help, but also the shortfalls of it. Still, dealing with the "system" on top of their physical and mental needs was where we were best able to help. Knowing there will be no-one who can do that for us has motivated us to think about ways around this. I've covered some of that here.

The second reason I was depressed was the pressure it put on me to have a multi-generational support network. I am lucky. I have two nieces still in this country, and one great-nephew. But that's it. I'm not naturally easy with younger generations, though I can make good connections when I have the opportunity. But I don't have activities that expose me to them, and I can't quite imagine what I could do that would do that. Building contacts amongst the younger generations is easier said than done. Parents are busy, sometimes possessive, and don't always invite others to be part of their circle, to get to know their kids. I've talked of this elsewhere too, noting that it would help both parents and the No Kidding if this happened more. So I felt as if I was being blamed for my lack of contacts. In general, I'm pretty good at making myself do things I'm not comfortable with. I'm shy, but I have forced myself to meet strangers, make cold calls, walk into rooms where I know nobody, etc. But I'm tired of that, and don't t want to have to force myself out into the world, doing things I don't want to do, with people I don't want to do it with, just to expand my social network. It sounds too much like my old work days! <much stamping of feet> Now, I feel a bit better this morning when I think about it. I know it is necessary. I've certainly acknowledged that in part, and I'm glad Jody raised it. But I know too that it is so much harder for some people than it is for others. And that's hard, when we know our parent friends probably don't have to do it quite as much as we do, and that society doesn't really care, or make any provisions for this to happen.

My final point is that I felt the different stages of ageing were largely ignored. (I touched on this in my post Ageing without Children: The Plan.) Now, that's probably because Jody only had a limited time in which to make her many, excellent points! Ageing on its own is a huge subject, let alone dealing with being childless at the same time. But when we talk about older women being wise, having a lot of skills to impart, being active and activist, we're really talking about what I think of as early "old age." It's the vibrant, exciting, free time when most of us are still relatively healthy, active, and alert, and have so much to offer the community, the world. That part of ageing doesn't worry me, but it is the stage of ageing that gets a lot of advocacy, primarily because the people doing the advocacy are that age. I'm enthusiastic about it, and ready to get started (once that birthday is over of course). It is the end stage of old old age that is really most concerning, when health goes, dementia may set in, etc. And the answers of how to deal with that are still few and far between. I think that is what Jody is going to be working on. I hope so, and I'm keen to contribute to her work on it, if she'll have me. Regardless, it is what I will continue to think about and talk about here too, as we all get older, as we enter the planning stages for that stage of our lives.

Finally, Jody recommended a number of books about ageing that I am keen to read. I'll review them here if/when I do.

And I leave you with these five points from my post that summarised a series on Ageing without Children back in 2020.

No Kidding in Auckland

This is a heads-up notice for any of my readers who may be based in Auckland. Gateway Women are hosting a face-to-face get-together - the only one in the world at the moment! - in Auckland this Saturday afternoon at 1.45 pm, and subsequently on the first Saturday of the month. Details are on the Gateway Women website here. (It will only open if you are a member and signed in - otherwise it will prompt you to join.) 

The timing of this get-together is great. Gearing up to the holiday season is not always an easy time of it for those of us who are childless not by choice. I always find this time of year a little difficult anyway - today would have been my father's birthday, and it is also the 19th anniversary of my first ectopic pregnancy. So the appearance of the pohutukawa and warmer weather and the sound of Christmas carols always brings back mixed memories.

I wish I could attend, and I'm sorry for the short notice, but hope that some of you can get together, make some new friends, share some wisdom, or just not feel so alone.

Find your No Kidding tribe

I'm really happy today to do some promotion on behalf of the wonderful Jody Day, of Gateway Women. She is coming to New Zealand, and even though she is coming for a holiday, she couldn't come all this way and NOT lead a workshop! She still has places left on her Auckland Reignite Weekend on 18/19 November; you can find more details and sign up here.

I can't imagine a better way to spend a weekend than linking with other women who share our journey, and who are also struggling to come to terms with their life without children.

But if you can't do that for whatever reason, you don't need to be or feel alone. I have, as you probably know, done a huge part of my healing after infertility and loss, and my subsequent experience of acceptance, online - here on this blog, and elsewhere - with some amazing women who are now lifelong friends.

Even now, almost 15 years later, I am still astounded every day by how reassuring, empowering and encouraging it can be when you find people who understand, especially women who won't judge, or criticise, or condescend.

Whether those people are in the the same street or suburb, or across the world, I know I am not alone, and I hope you know that too.