I hope I’m infertile.
I have enough money to get by on my own. But everything about the process of having children is expensive, especially in America. Between healthcare and childcare and school bills, one child alone would wreck my finances. I simply don’t have the money or resources that motherhood requires.
I hope I’m infertile.
Anti-abortion activists have claimed abortion is more dangerous than carrying a pregnancy to term, but they’re wrong. They never talk about the many complications that can happen during and after pregnancy. They don’t talk about the health risks, or how many deaths from pregnancy and childbirth could’ve been prevented, or the mental health risks that can come after childbirth. When I was thirteen, I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease. It’s incurable. I’ll have it for the rest of my life. No amount of healthy lifestyle choices will change that. Today, at age thirty, my body has simply gone through enough without adding pregnancy on top of it.
I hope I’m infertile.
They talk about women’s sexuality like it’s a light switch. They teach us avoiding pregnancy is as simple as not having sex, as not showing too much skin, as not giving boys the wrong idea. Anti-abortion activists tout this around like a second Bible. But they never admit or realize that sex doesn’t work like this. Committing to abstinence only works for a) people who genuinely want to wait until after they’re married, and b) people who are asexual. And if the question of rape or incest comes along, the response from the movement is either a shrug or a lot worse.
I hope I’m infertile.
I’ve lived in fear of men for as long as I can remember. From an early age I’ve been subjected to images of men taking what they want without asking, and women not being able to do anything about it. I’ve had boys touching me without my permission since I was a teenager, and everyone told me I was overreacting when I tried to do something about it. They tell me, “Men only want one thing.” “Boys will be boys.” “Don’t make a scene.” I dread the thought of being alone with a man. I dread the thought of a guy hitting on me, me turning him down, and him reacting violently. In my head, I know now that not all men are liable to commit violence. But in my heart and my body, there is still so much fear.
I hope I’m infertile.
The birth control pill is my best friend right now. It’s helped me manage my menstruation symptoms, and it means one less thing to worry about if I get attacked. But I know that their fight to end abortion won’t end with Roe vs. Wade. It’s part of a culture war that’s been going on for decades, and they won’t be satisfied with making abortion illegal again. It’s only a matter of time before they take away my birth control pill. Access to other forms of protection. And it won’t end here, either. They’ll come for everyone’s right to privacy. Everyone’s right to be with whoever they love. Everyone’s right to choose what kind of world they want to live in.
I hope I’m infertile.
If I’d known the horrors of the world as a fetus, I would’ve never left my mother’s womb. I have no desire to subject any child to that. None of my actions will change the fact that any child I bear will inherit a broken, dying world, and the best advice I can give them is to never give up.
I hope I’m infertile.