We are like, never, ever, ever having kids. Like, ever.

Question:

Dear Bitches,

Does tuning my coworkers out when they talk about their kids make me a bad feminist? And beyond that, is it bad that whenever a coworker complains about their kids, I just yell back, "Hey man, you made a choice!" and walk away?

Sincerely, 

Not Your Mother's Mother

Answer:

Dear NYMM, 

It's pretty hard to get through your late 20's and early 30's (particularly as a cis woman) without hearing the question, "So... when are you having kids?" Most of us are evaluated cautiously by employers, who assume we'll be checking out for a year at some point soon, only to plague them with questions about top-ups and leave benefits. Parents and in-laws make hints ranging from the subtle to the brick-ish, and your friends are torn between wishing you infertility until they get to use the name you mentioned once that you liked, and begging you to join them in the community-based detention that is parenthood. 

So are you a bad feminist for tuning out the incessant banter about poopy diapers, snotty noses, charming "kids say anything!"-isms and the ongoing drama of where the soother is? Nah. That shit is boring, unless you're also going through that or are very emotionally attached to someone who is. But guess what else is boring? How great your kimchi fries were at that new expensive fusion place where they only take bookings after 11:00 pm, or how wasted you got at the bar this weekend. That's boring to people who care about if their little one is just "going through a phase," or if he has true Dahmer-like tendencies. 

Can we bridge this feminist divide? For sure we can. Strident feminists have already dipped a toe in the waters, with gender-reveal party twists that encourage genderless upbringings, or with spacial apparatus that allow cis men to breastfeed too. That's equality baby, and it's happening. We can also just respect the spaces and choices of the other folks around us, particularly the uteri of those people, which is really and truly none of anyone's damn business. Meet someone not drinking at a party and suspect due to their gender identity and age that it could be because they're knocked up? Don't ask. Notice a particularly round belly of a person in the mall? Don't touch. Hear someone throwing up in the stall next to you at work one morning? Ain't none of your damn business. 

It goes the other way too. Coworker shows up one morning particularly harried, and unloads the treachery of a toddler who has hidden their snow boot on you? Feign some empathy while you pour your coffee (imagine having to search for a snow boot the size of a small romance novel in your house? Horror. That doesn't even take into account it being hidden by a person with the imaginative capacity to invent who friendships in their mind). Next time someone complains about their teenage son's room, take it as an opportunity to fight the good fight of feminism and remind them about the expectations toxic masculinity place on young men. 

You aren't a bad feminist for being bored to tears by the stories of someone else's kid. But it seems that as a species, we feel the need to promote our procreation to those who have not procreated, in some twisted form of community building. So suck it up, pat them on the shoulder, and go out that night at 10:30 pm and spend $149.00 on kimchi fries and wine, because you can do whatever the fuck you want and they can't.