I never wanted what I was supposed to want.
On being childfree by choice.
After Instagram kept bombarding me with clips from the new season of Love Is Blind, I finally gave in and watched it. I thought: It can’t be that bad. I was wrong. It was bad. Entertaining, yes, but also a showcase of men who seem wildly unprepared for the kind of emotional maturity a committed relationship requires.
One storyline I got particularly invested in was the one between Emma and Mike. As someone who is childfree by choice, I found their conversations around having children especially interesting to watch. Emma stated clearly, early on, that she did not want kids. Mike responded the way many people do when a woman expresses certainty about not wanting motherhood: started with curiosity, but continued with persuasion. Platitudes appeared right on cue. But you’d be a great mom. You might change your mind.
What stood out to me was not only his insistence, but the way her stance seemed to shift under the weight of it. Her clear no gradually softened into I’m open to it and I can see it in our future. At one point, she even said she was grateful that he had “challenged” her. But that is exactly what feels so familiar about this dynamic.
Women are often taught to reinterpret pressure as an invitation for growth, persuasion as care, and self-betrayal as open-mindedness.
What I kept wondering was this: why is a woman’s decision not to have children so often treated as something to revisit, challenge, or outgrow? Why is her clarity not taken seriously, while his desire for children remains unquestioned and intact? Why was he not expected to become more open to her position? Why is the burden of flexibility so often placed in one direction?
A similar kind of questioning showed up recently when Charli XCX was a guest on the SmartLess podcast. She was asked whether she wanted one child or more, and she replied that she did not want children. One of the hosts responded by telling her she might change her mind when she met the right person. Her answer was simple: “Well, I’m married…” The exchange was revealing in a way that had little to do with her and everything to do with the reflex behind the question.
Even when a woman is clear, even when she is partnered, and self-aware, there is still this impulse to not accept her stance without probing. To suggest that she does not yet know herself. To imply that her certainty is temporary, incomplete, or waiting to be overwritten by the right man, the right love, the right phase of life. That is the part I find so predictable and boring. No genuine curiosity. No thoughtful conversation about different ways to live.
And that is really the deeper issue. Many people are pressured into parenthood without ever giving themselves enough space to examine whether they truly want it or are ready for it. There is little room for ambivalence, refusal, or honesty. Motherhood is still framed as a natural destiny. A woman who does not want it is often treated as suspicious, incomplete, selfish, or simply confused.
If you’re enjoying this post you can buy me a cappuccino. ☕️
Women are supposed to want kids.
This hits close to home for me because where I’m from, a woman not wanting children is not treated as a valid choice. It is treated as a failure of femininity, a refusal of duty, or a sign that something has gone wrong. The expectation is not simply that you might want children. It is that you should. That you are supposed to. That fulfillment is found in motherhood whether it feels true for you or not.
What I rarely hear discussed openly is how many people seem to be more attached to the idea of having children than to the reality of raising them. There is so much cultural romance around parenthood, and far less honesty about what it costs, how permanent it is, and how unevenly those costs are distributed. Having children can be a beautiful and deeply meaningful choice. But it is not automatically the right choice for everyone.
Choosing your own path is selfish.
Before I knew exactly where life would take me, I imagined a life that felt expansive and adventurous. Work that mattered to me. Leaving the village where I grew up. Becoming more fully myself. But even in those early fantasies, I never imagined motherhood, nor was I drawn to a traditional family life. When I was younger, I probably said I would have kids one day, but not because it came from honest desire. It was just something girls were expected to say. It was part of the script long before it was ever presented as a choice.
For me, not wanting children never felt like a dramatic decision. It felt like self-knowledge. It was never something I wrestled with or grieved as a lost future. It simply did not belong to the life I wanted.
I love my life as it is. I love having autonomy over my time, energy, and resources. I can envision endless ways to create meaning, nurture others, contribute, and build a full life. Motherhood is one path. It is not the only path. And for some women, choosing otherwise is not a lack. It is alignment.
I’ve been told many times that not having kids is selfish and in the past, I would try to argue a different point. But I’ve changed my mind—I agree that it is selfish. Prioritizing what I believe is right for me and centering my desires is selfish. Choosing one’s own path is selfish, especially when it’s different from the traditional script. It’s selfish because it centers your truth rather than someone else’s expectations. But that kind of selfishness is not a flaw. It is a part of living an honest life.