Happy Mothers' Day

To be, or not to be. That is the eternal question.

Should I become a mother? 

When I look at the world around me, the answer is no. No matter how much I yearn to be privileged with the care of another human being, I do not want to raise them in an environment that consistently limits their capacity for success. I do not want to raise them in a world that is dying and burden them with the responsibility of saving it – of being better. I do not want to raise them in a world that does not care about who they are, but what they can do. 

Yes, there are a lot of 'I's in that paragraph. And yes, I recognise that parenting is not an, exclusively, maternal responsibility. Yet we live in a world where I will be held to greater account for my child's successes and failures than my partners. When this is coupled with my inability to indulge in the possibility of, truly, having a partner, I struggle to envision motherhood as something accessible for me. This is, even, before I consider what it is I owe my community. 

Do I owe them a child? Another life to mould, nurture and, hopefully, cherish? Or will this child - no matter how much they are valued - be another demand upon our dwindling resources and our willingness to distribute them equitably and efficiently. Especially when a child does not choose to exist. They are a by-product of choices that they had no part in making. And even if you plan for children, you could not plan for the reality of those children. Their brilliant individuality. Their frustrating sense of self. It's like Phil said in Modern Family, about Luke: "We planned for Luke, but we didn't plan for Luke."

You see, I am constantly trapped in this cycle of seeing motherhood as an individual burden, and a communal privilege. As a child of a single parent, I am uniquely aware of the role community plays in one's upbringing. My community raised me and taught me the lessons I needed to not be a complete fuck-up. But as a child of a single parent, who lost a father at a young age, I am also frustratingly aware of how the best-laid plans go to waste. I know that when you decide to have children, this decision must hold even when you are alone and must rely upon yourself. I know that parenting can be a lonely and isolating experience. And I know the pain of realising your parent did the best they could, but it still wasn't enough for you. 

As a result, I keep flip-flopping. One day, I imagine that motherhood is divine. I embrace the love and the challenges I know I will experience. The other, I want to get as far away from that experience as possible. I want to revel in the freedom that being unattached - unencumbered - affords me. 

And so, I am stuck. 

But for all my indecision - and for the amount of space I have devoted to my objections - I still like the idea of being a mother. And that is because of the women I have had the pleasure of befriending. To these women,  I am in awe of you. I am in awe of the depth of your love, and your capacity for growth. I am challenged by you. Not to have children, but to live a life of my own making. I am captivated by your capacity for re-invention and self-discovery. 

In many ways, you are my heroes, and I want to be like you. Not because they have shielded me from the Herculean realities of motherhood, specifically, and parenthood, in general. But because they are honest about their trials, and successes. And in their honesty, they emerge like Hercules after his 12 labours. Not divine, but painfully human. Flawed. Resilient. Determined. Compassionate. Brave. Trying to be Better. 

When I reflect upon these women, motherhood seems a little more accessible. A little less overwhelming. But they are not enough to override my anxieties. 

Not yet at least. Because motherhood isn't about the child I may raise, but who I will be as I raise my child. Who I might become. 

And so, I am left with the question that started this mess:

Not, merely "To Be, or Not to Be" but rather "who do I want to be?" Parenthood, be damned.