Does She Have Kids?
On Ruby Warrington's "Women Without Kids"
(This post is about a five or six minute read. To listen to instead, scroll to the bottom of the page.)
“There’s a game I like to play sometimes when my mind is picking at the scabs of my self-esteem, looking for ways to prove what a loser I am. I call it Does She Have Kids?”
I was cooking dinner, my phone propped up beside the stove, listening to Ruby Warrington narrating her book in a crisp British accent. She described her compulsion—when encountering a woman whose talents, creativity, or vision she admires—to Google whether they’re also a mother.
I half smiled, feeling a prickle of recognition. Relatable. I’ve done this more than once. What hit me in the gut was her astute recognition that she wasn’t really looking for more reasons to shore up evidence of her own failure to do more. She was actually looking for other women like her; searching for fellow creative women who didn’t have kids. Subconsciously, I think that’s what I’m looking for too. A reassurance I’m not alone.
Today, fewer people are forming long-term partnerships, and most are delaying having children and having fewer kids. In Canada and the U.S., women started having fewer kids in the ‘70s and ‘80s. By 1990, 14.1 per cent of Canadian women aged 50 or older had never had children; by 2022, that number had risen to 17.4 per cent.
Dropping birth rates are impacted by all kinds of factors, including current economic uncertainties that make having kids harder, even for those who want them. Regardless of the causes, in Canada we’re well past the point of expecting every woman to become a wife and/or mom. But at the same time, we’re not that far past a time when those expectations were still very much the norm. And so, the corollary belief that women’s ultimate fulfillment and purpose is connected to motherhood lingers in all kinds of ways.
Women Without Kids offers an unapologetic and honest window into one woman’s decision not to have kids, as well as some theories about where pressures and expectations around motherhood come from. In exploring her own life experiences against the backdrop of wider trends, Ruby creates a mirror that reflects the issues and pain points around motherhood shared by many women in recent generations. For that reason alone, it’s worth a read.
Ruby’s goal isn’t to convince anyone which path to choose, but simply to help herself and other women make peace with their vocational journeys by taking stock of their particular personalities and families of origin, and by evaluating the cultural narratives in which they are embedded.
In her forties, she moved past the question—Why don’t I want kids?—and reached a more generative curiosity. Why am I expected to want to be a mom? Why are we sometimes shamed for prioritizing other avenues to fulfillment? Why aren’t men expected to want to be fathers (at least to the same degree)?
And the biggest question of all: What if, rather than motherhood being every woman’s natural, God-given role, some of us are simply more suited to the role and the vocation of parenthood while others have different vocations and gifts?
Our temperaments, circumstances, fears, desires, capacities, wounds and limitations shape who we are. These things don’t define the future, but also, it’s much better to be honest about them. We need to recognize the stories we’re a part of, even if there are parts of those stories we want to leave behind.
Whether or not you have kids, if you have complicated feelings about parenthood, Women Without Kids might help you self reflect, and might even prompt you to explore intergenerational healing in your own family.
I’d like to leave you with a series of questions Ruby asks that can help with this self reflection. If you’re willing to go deep with them, they might help you recognize what and who has shaped your current perspective about things like long-term commitments or having kids. You might be surprised at what they affirm or reveal for you.
What are the first words that you associate with “mother” [or “father”]?
What style of mothering [or fathering] did you experience yourself?
What did you enjoy most and least about being a child?
What did you want most for yourself when you envisioned your life as an adult?
How important is family to you?
Who were your first role models—and who inspires you now?
What are your unique gifts, and how have you been able to utilize them in your life?
What untapped potential is still inside you?
What kinds of activities to you enjoy the most?
What kinds of activities do you find the most challenging?
What makes you lose your temper?
When do you feel most content?
What, if anything, is missing from your life?
How do you feel about spending time on your own?
What role does sex play in your life?
Which of your achievements are you proudest of?
What do you fear most about the future?
How are you preparing yourself—materially and emotionally—for growing older?
What does the concept of “legacy” mean to you?
How do you picture the final years of your life?
One last thought. You might notice that I didn’t talk about the additional layer that faith adds to this question. To be honest, considering what my Christian beliefs have to say on this issue sets my mind swirling with questions that aren’t actually about parenthood but about the nature of individual will, surrender, and faithfulness.
There are several drafts of this essay saved on my laptop with various attempts to address those questions. Add those iterations to many drafts of other essays I’ve stored away over the years covering the same idea. Whenever I write multiple drafts of something and can’t write my way to clarity, I take that as a hint my thoughts haven’t coalesced properly yet, so it’s time to put the idea on the back burner again and let it keep simmering. Who knows, if it simmers long enough, maybe I’ll get to write a book of my own on this topic one day.
Thank you, as always, for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts or personal experiences on this topic, if you feel like sharing.
Yes, this audio is AI generated.