By Lisa Manterfield
Have you ever been around people who behave as if you can’t possibly know anything about life because you don’t have children?
I’m sure that all of us have heard the old chestnuts, “You wouldn’t understand; you don’t have kids” or “I didn’t understand until I became a mother” (which implies the same thing) or even “Only a parent could know how this feels,” as if being childless strips away all capability of empathy.
And then there are those situations where you just feel invisible, when the conversation about children and parenting is swirling around you and no one even bothers to make eye contact with you because what could you possibly contribute?
These instances make me think of the wonderful “Mr. Cellophane” number from the musical “Chicago.”
And even without clucking like a hen,
Everyone gets noticed now and then,
Unless, of course, that person it should be,
Invisible, inconsequential me.
Personally, I’m done with feeling insignificant because I don’t have kids. It took me a long time to get to this point, but now I hold my ground in conversation. I contribute when I can and simply listen and nod when I can’t, just as I would if I found myself in a conversation on any other topic on which I’m not an expert.
I also keep a list of amazing childless women in case I ever need to remind myself that we don’t need to be parents to make a difference. On my personal list is Amelia Earhart, Dian Fossey, Julia Child, and Juliet Gordon Low, who started the Girl Scout movement. If you need your own role models, Jody Day has put together an outstanding collection on Pinterest.
You’d be hard-pressed to call any of these women insignificant. I remind myself of this when I find myself allowing others to make me feel like less than who I am.
So what do you do when you start to feel like a Ms. Cellophane? Do you feign boredom, try to hop in with an intelligent anecdote, change the subject, or do you slip away and hope no one notices you’ve left?
Thanks for the great post. I admire the way you are now handling this dynamic and have taken some helpful ideas from your article! Ah, I’m sure we all know this issue all to well, sigh. What I particularly dislike is when a terrible tragedy concerning children occurs, and everyone from the president of the US to friends or strangers, issues comments like, “If you are a parent, you join us in mourning the events of today…” I recently had a friend tell me that a recent crime covered in the news bothered her because she “is a mother.” I replied, “well, I’m not a mother, but I’m deeply upset my it, too.” I’m not a soldier, not a Holocaust victim, etc., but I care deeply about the suffering and welfare of those who are. Having children does not instill one with greater compassion or even empathy. Having lost the dream of having children, having experienced infertility, miscarriages, and so forth, all of these experiences and more, allow us to viscerally understand the loss of a child. What is more true, in my thinking, is that I might not fully “get” the fatigue and time-commitments associated with parenting. But just give me a chance…I’m willing to put myself in the other person’s shoes and make a royal effort to do so.
I think we go through phases. In the ttc years, or the years when we are first coming to terms with the “no kidding” life, then it can be very easy to feel invisible. I don’t feel invisible now – like you, I’ll contribute to conversations when I can, and listen when I need to, and when it is apparent I have nothing to contribute to, and in fact my opinion or ear is not wanted or even valued, then I’ll leave. I have better things to do with my time and my wisdom and compassion. (Wow I sound arrogant!)
I don’t feel “less” any more, and though I put that down to time, I loved your Cheroes series. I like it better than the Gateway Women list, because it celebrates these women for their achievements, not simply for being celebrities.
That said, people can still annoy me because I know they consider me “less” simply because I don’t have children. I know though that it is more about them than about me. If they are so arrogant, or in fact so insecure that they need to think that only parents can feel empathy, and so blinded by all the parents who clearly have no empathy or nurturing instincts at all, then I feel sorry for them.
I’ve just dug up this post, written in response to one of your posts over three years ago! http://nokiddinginnz.blogspot.co.nz/2010/11/as-mother.html
Actually, I’ve always been afraid of giving my opinions when it comes to rearing a child/children. It’s because I’ve heard lots of times firsthand on how my then-single aunt’s opinions was dismissed because “she doesn’t understand, she has no children”. So I’ve always been wary about this. Mostly I just listen to people’s stories about their kids and say nothing.
I think there was a time when I felt “less than” very strongly because I really really wanted to join that coveted motherhood club. But I think the core feeling was more like sadness, something I had to let go of many many times as my friends became mothers one by one (sometimes the second time around, not just once). I remember being very upset when another close friend got pregnant and she shared many details of her pregnancy and birth story and the others kept on focusing on sharing their own pregnancy/birth stories and I felt the parts of my emails were disregarded, even though I knew they didn’t do it on purpose. They just had more in common with themselves than with me.
What to do with it? These days I focus on sharing my stories more with the women who walk a similar path – those who are childless-not-by-choice. They’re more able to celebrate my moments with me, so it’s a win-win situation. I don’t feel bad anymore for having expectations from my closest friends who can’t give what I need and I have a place where I belong. 🙂 Being in that forum with other women like me helps me feel that I’m my own person, not someone “less than”. My stories matter and my moments matter, too.